By KANI XULAM
This is the heart-tugging story of a nearly-lost email, a lost love and lost father—and a daughter’s conscientious search for her lost Kurdish father, whose picture she clutches to her heart while sleeping.
The introductory email came through Facebook, but for some reason I didn’t see it until eight months later. I wish I had seen it earlier.
It was from a woman living in the United States, trying to locate her former Kurdish lover and father of her only child, a daughter.
She had diligently but fruitlessly searched websites such as ancestry.com, not realizing that Kurds were probably listed under Turks, Persians and Arabs. Her last-ditch appeal to me was simply grasping at another elusive, slender hope, another possible disappearing door behind which she hoped to connect with her lost man for the sake of her rapidly-growing-up ten-year-old daughter.
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