My name is Daryl, and here’s my story.
Since high school, I’d only ever loved one woman, Charlotte. But we were never able to be together.
Years later, she died at age 35, leaving behind her nine daughters, who were half-sisters, with no willing parents. Charlotte had them over the years, with four different men. All four fathers were unable to take them in. Two had died, one was in prison, and the other had left the country.
But the truth was, none of the fathers actually wanted to be parents.
We were never able to be together.
When I heard what happened to Charlotte and her kids, through a former high school friend who helped me keep tabs on her life, I couldn’t just walk away. I’d already had the pleasure of meeting Charlotte’s children
I immediately discovered where the children had been taken and arrived unannounced.
I’ll never forget the look on the social worker’s face when I told her I wasn’t leaving without all nine girls.
The adoption process took time.
I wasn’t leaving without all nine girls.
But the social worker didn’t want the girls stuck in the system or separated, so she worked behind the scenes to fast-track the process. In the meantime, since no one else wanted them, all the girls lived with me under a trial period.
People called me insane. I had moments when I believed they were right.
My parents were so unsupportive of my decision that they even stopped calling me!
People would whisper, loud enough for me to hear, behind my back, “What’s a man like him doing with nine girls who look nothing like him?”
People called me insane.
But I didn’t care. All I could think about was the girls. I had a deep desire to save them. For Charlotte, and for the love I still carried for her.
I’d never married or had children of my own, so the concerns people had were valid. And honestly, life wasn’t easy as a new parent of nine.
***
At first, the girls were afraid and didn’t trust me. Even social workers worried I might hurt them.
But every single day, I proved that I deserved to be their father.
I had a deep desire to save them.
I sold everything I owned that would give me a leg up. Luckily, I already had stable housing and some savings.
I also worked double shifts until my hands bled. At night, I spent time learning how to braid hair from YouTube.
Slowly, we started growing closer, and I was allowed to adopt them.
As time passed, I began to forget that they weren’t actually my biological daughters. I grew to love them more than anything in this world, and I did everything in my power to make them happy.
The years passed, but we remained close, even after they grew up.
I also worked double shifts.
On the 20th anniversary of Charlotte’s death, my babies showed up at my house without warning.
Of course, I was over the moon! The thing is, we hardly saw each other as much as I would’ve liked. We were all together only twice a year, at Christmas or Easter.
To celebrate being together on such a special occasion, I made dinner.
We spent some time remembering their mother. But all evening, I noticed that my daughters sat with strange expressions on their faces. They also barely spoke.
My babies showed up at my house.
I could feel something was wrong, but I didn’t want to spoil such a rare occurrence.
Then suddenly, my oldest daughter, Mia, said, “Dad, there’s something we need to confess. We’ve actually been hiding this from you our whole lives. But it’s time for you to know the truth.”
“What happened? What’s going on?” I asked.
Mia looked at me carefully before answering.
“Mom never stopped loving you.”
Her words gave me a sinking feeling in my stomach. The room went quiet.
“It’s time for you to know the truth.”
“What?” I said, barely comprehending what she’d said.
My other daughter, Tina, reached into her bag and pulled out a bundle of old envelopes, tied together.
“We found these in our old house years ago. They’re letters. Mom wrote them about you.”
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