Before he passed away, his father revealed that he had a wife and a daughter outside. The son traveled thousands of kilometers to find his sister. When he met her, he was stunned and speechless. It turned out that his sister was…
Daniel Parker’s father passed away on a cold late winter afternoon in San Diego, California. In a small room, there was only the sound of a ventilator and the lingering smell of antibiotics.

Before closing his eyes, he held his son’s hand tightly, his voice hoarse and trembling:

“Daniel… in the East… I still have… a wife… and… a daughter… Please… find… them… for me.”

The broken words left Daniel speechless.
Since childhood, he only knew his father as a quiet, devoted man who lived alone after his mother died early.

He never mentioned another woman – or about his past somewhere far away.

After the funeral, Daniel sat all night at the makeshift altar, looking at his father’s photo on a wooden frame.
He found a yellowed piece of paper in his father’s old box:

“Mary Collins – Maple Creek, Vermont.”

Along with it was an old black and white photograph:
a young woman holding a little girl, about 3 years old – with deep eyes like his father’s.

Daniel held the photograph, feeling as if the world had tilted.

“Did Dad have another family? Who was I in his life?”

But instead of resentment, he felt a strong urge – to find the truth.

He quit his job and drove his old car more than 2,000 miles from California to Vermont.

During the trip, crossing vast states and snow-capped mountains,
Daniel was filled with indescribable emotions:
part fear, part curiosity, and somewhere in between –
that on the other side of the journey, he would find a part of his family that he had never known.

Three days later, he arrived in the small town of Maple Creek,
a peaceful place with cobblestone streets and rows of red maple trees.

Daniel went to the mayor’s office and told the story.
The old secretary listened and sighed softly:

“Mary Collins has been dead for more than twenty years.
But her daughter – Helen Collins – still lives here.
She is an elementary school teacher, teaching at the town school.”

Daniel’s heart stopped beating.
He asked for the address and walked along the small road covered with red maple leaves.
In front of him was a small wooden house covered with moss, with a trellis around the gate.
From the yard, the laughter of children – and a warm, gentle woman’s voice – rang out:

“Come on, line up, I’ll give you a gift.”

Daniel stood still.
The woman – in her forties – wore a simple dress, her brown hair tied up, and a gentle smile.
She turned around, her eyes meeting his.

“Who are you?” she asked, her voice filled with surprise.

Daniel stammered:

“I… I am Daniel Parker… the son of Mr. Robert Parker.”

She was stunned.
When she heard that name, the smile on her lips suddenly disappeared.
Her voice trembled slightly:

“What… did you just say?”

Daniel bowed his head and spoke slowly:

“Before he died, my father said… he had a wife and a daughter in the East.
I went to look for… and… it seems… you are that person.”
Helen said nothing.
She ran into the house and came out with an old wooden box, opening the lid.
Inside was a black and white photo identical to the one Daniel had brought with him –
a man in military uniform, a young woman, and a 3-year-old girl.

The two looked at each other, unable to say a word.
The first tear rolled down Helen’s cheek.

“Your father… was a soldier stationed here during the war,” she said, her voice choking.

“He and my mother fell in love, and then I was born.
But when the war ended, he had to return to the West.
He promised to come back for us… but then… he never came back.
My mother waited until the day she died, still keeping this photo.”

Daniel could not contain his emotions.

He remembered the nights his father sat silently in front of the old photo frame, his eyes distant.

Perhaps he had lived in torment and remorse all his life.

Helen smiled sadly:

“I never hated him.
Perhaps the circumstances at that time were too harsh.
I just wished to see him once,
to call him father.”

Daniel held her hand, choking:
My father carried that regret until the end of his life.
He said, if possible, let me go in his place to light a stick of incense for your mother –
and apologize on his behalf.”

That afternoon, the two brothers went to the small cemetery at the end of town, where there was a tombstone with Mary Collins’s name on it.

Daniel knelt down, placed a bouquet of white chrysanthemums, and said with a trembling voice:

“Miss… I apologize on behalf of my father.
He did not forget, he just did not have the courage to come back.”

The wind blew gently, rustling the maple leaves around them.

Helen put her hand on Daniel’s shoulder, tears falling but a smile still on her lips:

“From now on, I will no longer be a person without you.
Thank you… for traveling more than two thousand miles to bring my family back.”

Since then, Daniel has returned to Vermont frequently.

He and Helen – two people born in two different parts of the country –
now sit together on the porch of the wooden house, drinking tea, talking about the father they both loved.

Every time the wind blows through the red maple forest,
the two brothers light incense, watching the thin smoke rise,
as if seeing the silhouette of their father smiling in that vast sky.

“Sometimes, the journey to find a loved one is not just finding a blood relative,
but finding a part of the heart that has been torn in two by time and fate.”

And Daniel understood:
His father – though he left in regret –
was finally at peace,
because his children had found each other,
after more than forty years apart