A friend once made the remark (upon visiting my family home) that there were "no photos of [my] dad." I had to explain that my parents had been divorced prior to his passing, and for that he was embarrassed. I have no connection to my dad's past nor his immediate family. All I have are photos of cousins I don't know the names of, homes in Mexico I don't know the owners to, and stories from my maternal side's perspective. I'm grateful for whatever I can get. I guess I'm most lucky that my parents were together for so long, because oddly enough, I look to my mother for the answers to my dad's past. In some ways she grew up with his family. Upon sifting through old photo albums, I found photos of my mom and dad at the Wharf in San Francisco with my dad's cousins. Perhaps the most special connection that I have to my father is being able to work with my cousin Jasmine. We coincidentally have the same employer (this I didn't discover until days before moving to San Francisco and transferring my job.) It's really odd and special at the same time- our coworkers make comments about her in reference as my "cousin." Yes, she is my cousin. I didn't know her growing up though; we hardly spent time together (I lived in Los Angeles and her family always resided in the Bay Area.) I'm not even sure where I'm going with this or why I'm writing so loosely... I just mean to show gratitude for the connections I'm building with my dad's family, even after his passing. Thank you fate, you work in mysterious ways. Thank you God, you work in mysterious ways too.