“She Never Came to My Birthday — Until I Found the Card That Changed Everything”

On my 47th birthday, I set the table for three — one seat left empty for the daughter I hadn’t heard from in two years. Karen had vanished without a word. No calls. No cards. Nothing.

That night, Brad lit the candles on my cake as I stared at her chair. I called her again. No answer. Later, I opened our old photo album — her baby pictures, her smile. My heart ached.

The next morning, I told Brad, “I need to face Nigel.” Karen’s father. The one I’d left without explaining, hoping to shield her from the truth. But maybe silence hurt more than honesty ever could.

Nigel looked worn down. When I asked about Karen, he revealed she’d moved to Canada. And then, casually, he handed me a birthday card — one she wrote a year ago. A card he’d forgotten to send.

Tears filled my eyes as I read her words: “I miss you. I love you. I want you to visit.”

The next morning, I flew to Ontario.

As I raised my hand to knock, the door opened.

There she was. My daughter.

No words. Just a hug.

We were whole again.