Growing up, my dad never spoke much about mom. He always told me that she died when I was very young, and that I couldn't possibly remember her. He did tell me that I looked a lot like her, but never even told me my own mother's name. Why? I've always wondered why he would never tell me the name of my own mother. What did he gain from withholding that knowledge?
I'd long dismissed it as something I just wasn't meant to know, but as of late it's been driving me mad. I have been out of rest, and thoroughly distracted for a few days now.
I've asked around my dad's old work place, and Daisy is going to try and find some of his old belongings for me. I'm hoping to find a journal of some kind, or some indicator of what actually happened to mother.
I don't really care if she's dead or not, but I need the closure..
.
.
.
I actually would rather her be alive.

