It's a deeply personal story for me, and at first, I was scared to share it. But many people that heard it were moved and inspired, and I received tons of love and support. I've learned to forgive and understand the ones that would call it impossible or fantastical. If it helps even one person believe, I have fulfilled my purpose.

"I always wanted to know what my father looked like."

I never met him. Mother has always been secretive about it, and always changed the subject when I asked questions.

My mother was one of a kind. A free-spirited and artistic soul, she ran a pottery workshop. I still remember the sweet smell of burnt clay and the warm light of the workshop. We used to do everything together. Painting, dancing, watching the stars. "Trust your intuition" she laughed at me, while I was breaking another clay pot or ruining another painting.

It all changed when Michael came into our life. At first, I was excited to have a "new dad".

But it quickly turned out that things are taking a turn. For the worse. Mike was a very cold and rigid person. He didn't believe in anything spiritual, and he wouldn't allow us to express this side of ours. Mom closed the pottery workshop, and warmth and laughter slowly disappeared from our house. But the problems started to appear in my teenage years. I've always felt this deep, spiritual energy inside me. I wanted to learn how to channel it, and started studying tarot and astrology. I also built a small altar, which I covered in crystals.

Michael hated it. He told me this was all nonsense. I believe in things greater than ourselves. I believe in faith, in love, in kindness. So I stood up to him. He didn't like it. We started having fights. He wasn't physically violent, but over time, the fights would only get worse.

My mother never took my side. She was too afraid of losing him. I hated her for it. I was angry, and thought she's weak, stupid, and doesn't care about me. How could she not stand up for what's right? Little did I know at that time how broken her heart was. One day when I was getting back from school, I had a massive shock. My room was empty. My cards, my crystals, my drawings, my items. Gone. All of them. It was like someone stole a part of my soul. I ran outside as the garbage truck was leaving, and there was Mike, with a huge grin on his face. I cried and screamed, but he didn't say a thing, and just looked at me. Smiling.

That night I moved to my friend's house. While leaving, my mom looked at me with a sad face, but she never tried to stop me.

The following months were tough. I was angry, disappointed, and felt disconnected from my spiritual self. I would lay in bed and think about my mother. What happened to her? How could she turn into this? I didn't want to give up on her. "I need to save her".

In moments like this, when I felt sad, I had an uncontrollable urge to draw. But I wasn't sketching random images. A man's face appeared vividly in my mind, clear as if I'd met him. The same face would appear every time I picked up a pencil, and I couldn't stop drawing him. Deep down, I knew he was important, though I didn't yet understand how.

I had tens of sketches of the same, mysterious man. I didn't know who he was, or what it meant, but I felt a strong connection between him, my mom and I. I had to know the truth. I had to ask her. "Trust your intuition", she always told me. Now it's time I did just that.

I went to her house, my old house, and rang the bell. My mom opened the door. I didn't say anything, just showed her the sketch. She was shocked. Her lip was trembling, and I thought I saw a small tear rolling down her face.

I still remember every word she said. "Who is this? How did you know?" I couldn't answer, and she ran upstairs, without saying anything else. Sad and defeated, I went back to my friend's house.

The following day, mom called me crying and told me everything. The man in my sketch was my father, her one true love, her soulmate. She hurt him so bad, and he left. She always believed he would come back, but as time went on, she lost hope, and started hating herself and the world more and more. Not anymore. It was time to forgive herself, and heal. She had broken up with Mike and wanted me to come back home. We were together and happy again. I could see life springing back into my mother. She was starting to look like her old self, again. One day, I heard the doorbell ring. Mom wasn't around, so I went and opened the door. To my surprise… It was the man in the sketch.