When my son Tommy was four, he asked me to write letters to the father he never met, sealing them in bottles and tossing them into the canal every year. It was easier than telling him his dad had left and never returned.

On Tommy’s tenth birthday, two men showed up at our gate. One, Sam, dressed as a sailor, claimed to be a stand-in dad; the other, Daniel, was Tommy’s real father who had never known about him.

The men clashed, each wanting a place in Tommy’s life. I told them neither had the right to use Tommy’s heart to settle old guilt.

After a long silence, Tommy decided to watch who truly stayed and supported him.

In time, Sam became part of our family, and Daniel stayed close. Tommy finally had the two fathers he’d always dreamed of—both loving him in their own way.