July 11, 2014, on your 18th birthday

Dear Melissa,

Happy birthday.  As always, I’m thinking about you and wishing you well.  It’s hard for me to accept that you are now eighteen years old, an adult. By doing so confirms that I will never be reunited with that adorable two year old that used to call me Papi.  By constantly reliving those few but precious memories part of me is stuck in 1998.

To say that I’m disappointed with the Colombian judicial system is an understatement.   In 2006, when you were only ten, the courts closed the case.  After eight years of heart breaking legal proceedings I was devastated.  My opinion is that a grave injustice was committed to both of us.  At that time I came to the realization that we would be reunited only when you were ready.    The only viable course of action I had was to wait and hope that that natural curiosity within all of us – to want to know our heritage – kicks in.  I realized that I had to wait for you to grow up.

Even though it’s been sixteen years, the pain, sorrow, and the desire to be with you feels like it were only yesterday.   Melissa, you have nothing to fear from me.  I don’t want to control you in any way.  You will always be free to come and go as you like.  All I want is to get to know you.  I need to know who my precious little girl grew up to be.

Since we never know what tomorrow will bring, and since there is a possibility that we will never be reunited, I wanted you to know that I have loved you with all my heart.  Also, I want you to know that everything I have done has been done with your best interest in mind.  Finally, I want you to know that from my point of view, there is no ethical, moral or fair justification for us having been separated.  Our most fundamental basic human rights have been violated.  I have my suspicions that you have already seen shades of the truth.  Please remember that I will always be waiting for you no matter how long it takes.

Papi