Lack of a parent

What if your Biological dad died one and a half years ago, you did a net search and it came up as you dug, so you now have a picture of what he last looked like.

Prior you had lost the opportunity to meet him, about 20 years back because he didn't know the situation and you were depressed and scared.
Before that, when you received a graduation card from him, in an envelope your grandmother clearly wrote, it read on the inside "Congratulations Dawn P.S. Can you ask your mother to stop asking me for child support?"
While growing up all you knew were there some letters you found, they didn't say anything worth remembering between the two of the parents, that they went away from each other (Michigan), with mother taking me back to where her family was (Florida).
You had pictures of him while he was in the services, marines maybe, Korea definitely, and with a lovely Indian brand Motorcycle.

What if your Biological mother was given the chance to see you one last time, for your birthday, before she can no longer travel, or dies- she spends the entire week, save one section of a day, your birthday, sleeping on the sofa, not taking her prescription properly, being sick because of it, holding up in a restaurant bathroom for an unknown reason for an hour before being retrieved to go back home; and your husband rescuing you by reading her prescriptions, getting her back on track, getting her out of bed for your birthday, making her eat, and making sure she went back home after he paid for all that, after the fire, while we had no income.

She was dependent on men. She was married to her fourth one before I got my first.
Had she stuck to doing things with me, she and I would have had a tie-dye business, and eventually a tattoo and piercing shop, and with my cooking desires, probably would have ended up with a food cart, too.
But instead we had a few precious and not so precious moments:
Both being painted as clowns while visiting the Ringling Circus
Being terrified and screaming at age 5 when I turned around for halloween to see the down face my other had given me after I had asked for it, not stopping until every bit and the outfit was off of me, NO pictures at all.
Her spilling food on her and me knowing that was her being pregnant, again, and threatening to move out, at age 14.
Her worst memories of me are putting every pair of her underwear on me at about 2 or 3, and pouring out a small amount of a powdered cleanser and crawling away as a baby.