These are the images captured by my family and given to me over the years while I was lost in the search of my identity and chasing after my childhood. I did not realize the very definition of my being was redefined by the birth of my daughter. That my identity was in front of me all a long, I did not come to my senses until I noticed the streaks of grey in the mirror. As I looked at the man in the dirty mirror I felt my absence in her life, stronger than the absence of my father in mine.

I chased after my fathers shadow for many years, I sought him out and a searched diligently in a self-destructive fashion, selfishly denying my daughter her own father, and essentially a part of her own identity.

Every time I look at these pictures of her, I weep, even as I write these words tears are flowing down my cheeks. I can never get these moment in time back, I have stolen them from myself, and I am ashamed.