My father has always been a natural-born adventurer, and I’ve definitely inherited that trait. It’s something we’ve shared ever since I can remember.
A week before his birthday, I dropped by the nursing home to see him. He greeted me with, “Make sure your tank is full—we’ve got a long trip ahead!” He also mentioned a “very important meeting,” but wouldn’t give any more details. All he said was, “You’ll find out soon enough!”
Trusting his sense of adventure, I decided to roll with it. Three days before his birthday, we hit the road, heading toward a coastal town he pointed to on a map.
After two tiring days of driving, we arrived at our destination. My father seemed nervous as we waited on an empty beach for what felt like an eternity. Then, out of nowhere, a young woman, probably in her mid-twenties, appeared behind us.
“I’ve been expecting you,” she said, breaking the silence.
She introduced herself as Eliza, speaking gently but with a certain excitement. Dad recognized her name immediately, though it momentarily left him speechless—a rare occurrence for him. Smiling warmly, she added, “It’s about time we finally met.”
We followed her to a nearby café, where she began explaining why she’d been waiting for us. Eliza was the granddaughter of my father’s childhood best friend, a man my dad lost touch with years ago when he moved away. He had passed away recently, and while sorting through his things, Eliza came across old letters—correspondences between him and my father. One of the letters mentioned a promise Dad had made to visit his friend on this very beach, a promise he couldn’t keep due to life’s unexpected twists and turns.
Continue reading on next page…