My father was eighty-nine years old.<\/p>\n
For three years, dementia had been taking him from us in pieces.<\/p>\n
Not all at once.<\/p>\n
That would have been easier.<\/p>\n
Instead, it took little things first.<\/p>\n
Names.<\/p>\n
Dates.<\/p>\n
Faces.<\/p>\n
Then eventually, entire years.<\/p>\n
I drove to the memory-care home in Council Bluffs every Tuesday and Friday.<\/p>\n
Some days, Dad knew me.<\/p>\n
Other days, he thought I was his sister.<\/p>\n
Sometimes he called me by my mother’s name.<\/p>\n
Once, he insisted I was one of the nurses and asked me why I wasn’t wearing blue scrubs.<\/p>\n
The staff taught us not to correct him.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou have to meet them wherever they are,\u201d the nurse told me.<\/p>\n
So I did.<\/p>\n
I answered to a lot of names.<\/p>\n
Last Friday started like any other visit.<\/p>\n
I brought Dad butterscotch pudding.<\/p>\n
We watched the birds outside his window.<\/p>\n
Then I sat beside him and read the sports page aloud.<\/p>\n
He drifted in and out.<\/p>\n
His eyes closed.<\/p>\n
Then opened.<\/p>\n
Closed again.<\/p>\n
I had just reached an article about the Huskers when his hand suddenly closed around my wrist.<\/p>\n
Hard.<\/p>\n
Much harder than I expected from an eighty-nine-year-old man.<\/p>\n
I looked at him.<\/p>\n
He wasn’t really seeing me.<\/p>\n
His eyes seemed to be somewhere far away.<\/p>\n
And they were filled with tears.<\/p>\n
\u201cMargaret,\u201d he whispered.<\/p>\n
I froze.<\/p>\n
\u201cMargaret, you came back.\u201d<\/p>\n
I had never known a Margaret.<\/p>\n
Not in our family.<\/p>\n
Not among his friends.<\/p>\n
Not at his church.<\/p>\n
I started to say, \u201cDad, it’s me.\u201d<\/p>\n
But he squeezed my wrist harder.<\/p>\n
His voice cracked.<\/p>\n
\u201cI did what they told me to do, Margaret.\u201d<\/p>\n
He swallowed.<\/p>\n
\u201cI’ve been sorry for it every day of my life.\u201d<\/p>\n
My heart began pounding.<\/p>\n
\u201cDid the boy turn out all right?\u201d<\/p>\n
I stared at him.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat boy?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cJust tell me the boy turned out all right.\u201d<\/p>\n
Then his eyes closed.<\/p>\n
A few seconds later, he released my wrist.<\/p>\n
The moment was gone.<\/p>\n
He opened his eyes and looked at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cThere you are,\u201d he said cheerfully.<\/p>\n
\u201cCan you get me some pudding?\u201d<\/p>\n
I couldn’t move.<\/p>\n
My father had two daughters.<\/p>\n
No sons.<\/p>\n
So who was the boy?<\/p>\n
And who was Margaret?<\/p>\n
That weekend, I barely slept.<\/p>\n
I kept replaying his words.<\/p>\n
I did what they told me to do.<\/em><\/p>\n I’ve been sorry for it every day of my life.<\/em><\/p>\n Did the boy turn out all right?<\/em><\/p>\n On Monday morning, I called the one person old enough to remember my father’s childhood.<\/p>\n His last living cousin.<\/p>\n Marvin.<\/p>\n Ninety-four years old.<\/p>\n He lived in a veterans’ home in Sioux City.<\/p>\n When he answered, I said,<\/p>\n \u201cMarvin, I need to ask you something.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat is it?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDo you remember anyone named Margaret?\u201d<\/p>\n There was silence.<\/p>\n Not normal silence.<\/p>\n The kind where someone is suddenly trying to decide whether to open a door that had been locked for decades.<\/p>\n \u201cWhere did you hear that name?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDad said it.\u201d<\/p>\n Another long silence.<\/p>\n Then Marvin whispered,<\/p>\n \u201cYou’d better come see me.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd you’d better come soon.\u201d<\/p>\n Wednesday morning, I filled my car with gas.<\/p>\n I told my sister I was going shopping in Omaha.<\/p>\n Then I drove north.<\/p>\n Three hours later, I was sitting across from Marvin in a quiet room overlooking a courtyard.<\/p>\n He looked smaller than I remembered.<\/p>\n But his eyes were sharp.<\/p>\n When I said my father’s name, he sighed.<\/p>\n \u201cYour father never told you?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTold me what?\u201d<\/p>\n Marvin looked toward the window.<\/p>\n \u201cAbout Margaret.\u201d<\/p>\n I leaned forward.<\/p>\n \u201cWho was she?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMy father’s daughter.\u201d<\/p>\n I frowned.<\/p>\n \u201cYour aunt?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n He shook his head.<\/p>\n \u201cYour father’s sister.\u201d<\/p>\n I stared at him.<\/p>\n \u201cThat doesn’t make sense.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYour father had an older sister.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMy father had two brothers and one sister. Her name was Elaine.\u201d<\/p>\n Marvin shook his head.<\/p>\n \u201cElaine was the sister everyone knew about.\u201d<\/p>\n I felt a chill.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat are you saying?\u201d<\/p>\n He looked directly at me.<\/p>\n \u201cYour father had another sister.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMargaret.\u201d<\/p>\n He nodded.<\/p>\n \u201cAnd she disappeared when she was seventeen.\u201d<\/p>\n I sat there stunned.<\/p>\n \u201cDisappeared?\u201d<\/p>\n Marvin nodded slowly.<\/p>\n \u201cIn 1952.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat happened to her?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat depends on who you ask.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI’m asking you.\u201d<\/p>\n He sighed.<\/p>\n \u201cMargaret got pregnant.\u201d<\/p>\n I stared at him.<\/p>\n \u201cWith whom?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe don’t know.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat happened to the baby?\u201d<\/p>\n Marvin looked down at his hands.<\/p>\n \u201cThat is where your father comes into the story.\u201d<\/p>\n My stomach tightened.<\/p>\n \u201cTell me.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYour grandparents were deeply ashamed.\u201d<\/p>\n He paused.<\/p>\n \u201cThey were afraid of what people in the town would say.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSo they sent her away?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTo where?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cA home for unwed mothers in Nebraska.\u201d<\/p>\n I felt sick.<\/p>\n \u201cAnd the baby?\u201d<\/p>\n Marvin shook his head.<\/p>\n \u201cThey told everyone the baby died.\u201d<\/p>\n I whispered,<\/p>\n \u201cBut he didn’t.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n My heart began pounding.<\/p>\n \u201cHow do you know?\u201d<\/p>\n Marvin looked at me.<\/p>\n \u201cBecause your father told me.\u201d<\/p>\n My father had been nineteen years old.<\/p>\n Margaret had been seventeen.<\/p>\n Their parents told them the baby had been born sick and died shortly afterward.<\/p>\n But my father didn’t believe them.<\/p>\n He secretly visited the facility where Margaret had been sent.<\/p>\n He found out the truth.<\/p>\n The baby was alive.<\/p>\n A healthy boy.<\/p>\n But the family had already arranged for him to be adopted.<\/p>\n My grandfather told my father that the adoption could not be stopped.<\/p>\n \u201cYour father was terrified,\u201d Marvin said.<\/p>\n \u201cHe wanted to tell someone.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy didn’t he?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBecause your grandfather threatened him.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWith what?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cEverything.\u201d<\/p>\n His inheritance.<\/p>\n His education.<\/p>\n His future.<\/p>\n And most importantly, Margaret’s future.<\/p>\n \u201cIf he talked,\u201d Marvin continued, \u201chis parents said Margaret would be sent somewhere even farther away and never allowed to see the family again.\u201d<\/p>\n My father was nineteen.<\/p>\n He obeyed.<\/p>\n The baby was adopted.<\/p>\n Margaret was sent away.<\/p>\n And my father spent the rest of his life carrying the guilt.<\/p>\n I thought about his words.<\/p>\n I did what they told me to do.<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cWhere did Margaret go?\u201d<\/p>\n Marvin’s eyes filled with tears.<\/p>\n \u201cShe changed her name.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDo you know where she lived?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI did.\u201d<\/p>\n He reached into a small drawer beside his chair.<\/p>\n Then he pulled out a yellowed envelope.<\/p>\n \u201cI’ve kept this for forty years.\u201d<\/p>\n He handed it to me.<\/p>\n Inside was a photograph.<\/p>\n A young woman stood beside a teenage boy.<\/p>\n On the back was a name.<\/p>\n Margaret Collins.<\/strong><\/p>\n And beneath it:<\/p>\n Thomas.<\/strong><\/p>\n I stared at the photograph.<\/p>\n \u201cWho’s the boy?\u201d<\/p>\n Marvin swallowed.<\/p>\n \u201cThe boy your father thought he lost.\u201d<\/p>\n I looked at the photograph again.<\/p>\n Thomas appeared to be about sixteen.<\/p>\n He had dark hair.<\/p>\n A crooked smile.<\/p>\n And something about his eyes felt strangely familiar.<\/p>\n \u201cWhere is he now?\u201d<\/p>\n Marvin shook his head.<\/p>\n \u201cI don’t know.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThen why did you keep this?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBecause Margaret sent it to your father.\u201d<\/p>\n My breath caught.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYour father received a letter from her years later.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDid he answer?\u201d<\/p>\n Marvin looked ashamed.<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe was married by then. He had children. He was afraid of opening that door.\u201d<\/p>\n I stared at him.<\/p>\n \u201cMy father never knew where the boy was?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe knew the boy’s name.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThomas.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd he knew Margaret was alive?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThen why didn’t he find them?\u201d<\/p>\n Marvin’s voice became quiet.<\/p>\n \u201cBecause by then, he was too ashamed to face what he had done.\u201d<\/p>\n I drove home that evening with the photograph beside me.<\/p>\n I couldn’t stop thinking about the boy.<\/p>\n Thomas.<\/p>\n I searched the name.<\/p>\n Nothing.<\/p>\n Too many possibilities.<\/p>\n Then I remembered something.<\/p>\n My father had an old military trunk in his bedroom.<\/p>\n I had seen it my entire life.<\/p>\n He never let anyone touch it.<\/p>\n I had always assumed it contained medals and old uniforms.<\/p>\n That night, I opened it.<\/p>\n Inside were photographs.<\/p>\n Letters.<\/p>\n An old watch.<\/p>\n And at the very bottom, beneath a folded Army jacket, was a small envelope.<\/p>\n On it, in my father’s handwriting, were four words:<\/p>\n For Thomas, someday.<\/strong><\/p>\n My hands began shaking.<\/p>\n I opened it.<\/p>\n Inside was a letter.<\/p>\n It had never been mailed.<\/p>\n Dear Thomas,<\/em><\/p>\n You don’t know me.<\/em><\/p>\n But I have known about you since the day you were born.<\/em><\/p>\n I sat on the floor.<\/p>\n My father continued:<\/p>\n Your mother is Margaret.<\/em><\/p>\n She loved you.<\/em><\/p>\n She never abandoned you.<\/em><\/p>\n I was the one who failed you both.<\/em><\/p>\n I couldn’t breathe.<\/p>\n The letter went on.<\/p>\n My father explained everything.<\/p>\n He admitted that his parents had forced him into silence.<\/p>\n But he didn’t blame them completely.<\/p>\n He wrote:<\/p>\n I was nineteen. I was scared. But eventually I became an adult, and I still remained silent.<\/em><\/p>\n That part is mine.<\/em><\/p>\n I have no excuse.<\/em><\/p>\n Then came the final paragraph.<\/p>\n If you ever read this, I hope your life was kind to you.<\/em><\/p>\n I hope someone told you that you were loved.<\/em><\/p>\n I hope you became the man your mother always wanted you to become.<\/em><\/p>\n And if you ever wonder whether your family remembered you, please know that one man never forgot.<\/em><\/p>\n I just didn’t have the courage to find you.<\/em><\/p>\n I’m sorry.<\/em><\/p>\n Your uncle, Daniel.<\/em><\/p>\n I stared at the signature.<\/p>\n My father.<\/p>\n Daniel.<\/p>\n For the first time, I understood why his dementia had brought Margaret back.<\/p>\n She wasn’t just a forgotten name.<\/p>\n She was unfinished business.<\/p>\n The next morning, I called Marvin.<\/p>\n \u201cDo you know where Thomas is?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDo you know his last name?\u201d<\/p>\n Marvin hesitated.<\/p>\n \u201cHis adoptive family was named Carter.\u201d<\/p>\n I searched.<\/p>\n Thomas Carter.<\/p>\n I found dozens.<\/p>\n Then one result stopped me.<\/p>\n Thomas Carter \u2014 Council Bluffs, Iowa.<\/strong><\/p>\n I stared at the screen.<\/p>\n Council Bluffs.<\/p>\n The same city where my father lived.<\/p>\n The same city where my father had spent the last three years of his life.<\/p>\n My hands went cold.<\/p>\n I called the number.<\/p>\n An older man’s voice answered.<\/p>\n \u201cHello?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIs this Thomas Carter?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMy name is Emily Miller.\u201d<\/p>\n There was silence.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy are you calling?\u201d<\/p>\n I took a breath.<\/p>\n \u201cBecause I think I know who your mother was.\u201d<\/p>\n Silence.<\/p>\n Then he whispered,<\/p>\n \u201cMargaret?\u201d<\/p>\n I closed my eyes.<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n He didn’t speak for several seconds.<\/p>\n Then I heard him crying.<\/p>\n We met two days later.<\/p>\n Thomas was seventy-one.<\/p>\n He walked with a cane.<\/p>\n He had gray hair and the same crooked smile from the photograph.<\/p>\n When he saw me, he stopped.<\/p>\n I handed him the envelope.<\/p>\n He recognized my father’s handwriting immediately.<\/p>\n \u201cHe’s alive?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n Thomas stared at me.<\/p>\n \u201cWhere?\u201d<\/p>\n I told him.<\/p>\n He looked at the ground.<\/p>\n \u201cI’ve spent fifty years wondering about him.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou knew about him?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMy adoptive mother told me I had an uncle who tried to find me.\u201d<\/p>\n I shook my head.<\/p>\n \u201cHe tried.\u201d<\/p>\n Thomas looked at the letter.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy didn’t he?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe was afraid.\u201d<\/p>\n Thomas gave a sad smile.<\/p>\n \u201cSo was everyone, apparently.\u201d<\/p>\n Then he looked at me.<\/p>\n \u201cDoes he know I’m alive?\u201d<\/p>\n I nodded.<\/p>\n \u201cNot consciously.\u201d<\/p>\n He looked confused.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d<\/p>\n I explained the dementia.<\/p>\n The memory loss.<\/p>\n The way Dad had suddenly grabbed my wrist.<\/p>\n The name Margaret.<\/p>\n The question about the boy.<\/p>\n Thomas covered his face.<\/p>\n \u201cHe remembered me?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI think some part of him did.\u201d<\/p>\n Thomas began crying.<\/p>\n \u201cSo he didn’t forget.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n I reached into my bag.<\/p>\n I had brought the photograph.<\/p>\n Thomas stared at it.<\/p>\n \u201cThat was the last picture my mother sent him.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYour mother kept it?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShe kept a copy.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDo you know what happened to her?\u201d<\/p>\n Thomas nodded.<\/p>\n \u201cShe died twenty years ago.\u201d<\/p>\n I felt tears in my eyes.<\/p>\n \u201cI’m sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShe talked about my uncle Daniel until the day she died.\u201d<\/p>\n He looked at me.<\/p>\n \u201cShe never hated him.\u201d<\/p>\n That sentence broke something inside me.<\/p>\n The next Tuesday, I brought Thomas with me to the memory-care home.<\/p>\n My father was sitting beside the window.<\/p>\n He was watching the birds.<\/p>\n I walked in.<\/p>\n \u201cDad?\u201d<\/p>\n He looked at me.<\/p>\n For a moment, he seemed confused.<\/p>\n Then Thomas stepped forward.<\/p>\n My father’s eyes changed.<\/p>\n Not slowly.<\/p>\n Instantly.<\/p>\n His face went still.<\/p>\n His lips parted.<\/p>\n And he whispered,<\/p>\n \u201cMargaret?\u201d<\/p>\n Thomas started crying.<\/p>\n \u201cNo, Uncle Daniel.\u201d<\/p>\n My father’s eyes narrowed.<\/p>\n He stared at Thomas.<\/p>\n Then he reached out.<\/p>\n Thomas took his hand.<\/p>\n \u201cIt’s Thomas.\u201d<\/p>\n My father’s lower lip trembled.<\/p>\n \u201cThomas?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n My father looked at me.<\/p>\n Then back at Thomas.<\/p>\n \u201cThe boy?\u201d<\/p>\n Thomas nodded.<\/p>\n \u201cI’m the boy.\u201d<\/p>\n My father began crying.<\/p>\n Not the confused tears I’d seen before.<\/p>\n These were different.<\/p>\n He knew.<\/p>\n For one brief moment, the years disappeared.<\/p>\n He squeezed Thomas’s hand.<\/p>\n \u201cI was supposed to protect you.\u201d<\/p>\n Thomas shook his head.<\/p>\n \u201cYou were nineteen.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI should have done more.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou came looking for me.\u201d<\/p>\n My father looked surprised.<\/p>\n \u201cHow do you know?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBecause your daughter found your letter.\u201d<\/p>\n Dad looked at me.<\/p>\n I smiled through my tears.<\/p>\n \u201cYou left something behind.\u201d<\/p>\n He looked at Thomas again.<\/p>\n \u201cI thought you were gone.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI was never gone.\u201d<\/p>\n Thomas squeezed his hand.<\/p>\n \u201cI just didn’t know where you were.\u201d<\/p>\n My father closed his eyes.<\/p>\n For several minutes, neither of them spoke.<\/p>\n Then Dad whispered,<\/p>\n \u201cDid you turn out all right?\u201d<\/p>\n Thomas laughed through his tears.<\/p>\n \u201cI did.\u201d<\/p>\n My father’s shoulders relaxed.<\/p>\n \u201cGood.\u201d<\/p>\n That was all he said.<\/p>\n But it was enough.<\/p>\n My father forgot Thomas again the following morning.<\/p>\n He asked the nurse who the strange man had been.<\/p>\n She told him.<\/p>\n He didn’t remember.<\/p>\n But something had changed.<\/p>\n Whenever I visited after that, Dad seemed calmer.<\/p>\n Sometimes he still called me by Margaret’s name.<\/p>\n Sometimes he asked about the boy.<\/p>\n And every time, I told him the same thing.<\/p>\n \u201cThe boy turned out all right.\u201d<\/p>\n He would smile.<\/p>\n \u201cGood.\u201d<\/p>\n Thomas began visiting too.<\/p>\n Sometimes Dad remembered him.<\/p>\n Sometimes he didn’t.<\/p>\n But Thomas kept coming.<\/p>\n He said he wasn’t visiting for recognition.<\/p>\n He was visiting because his uncle deserved the chance to know him.<\/p>\n And maybe he deserved the chance to forgive himself.<\/p>\n A few months later, my father passed away peacefully in his sleep.<\/p>\n Thomas was there.<\/p>\n My sister was there.<\/p>\n And I was holding Dad’s hand.<\/p>\n Afterward, Thomas gave me something.<\/p>\n An old photograph of Margaret.<\/p>\n On the back, she had written:<\/p>\n If Daniel ever finds my son, tell him I loved him every day.<\/em><\/p>\n I held the photograph against my chest.<\/p>\n For decades, my father had believed he had lost a boy.<\/p>\n But the truth was more complicated.<\/p>\n He hadn’t lost him forever.<\/p>\n He had simply spent most of his life believing the door was closed.<\/p>\n And somehow, in the final chapter of his life, dementia had opened it again.<\/p>\n My father forgot many things.<\/p>\n But somehow, the deepest regret of his life survived.<\/p>\n So did the love behind it.<\/p>\n And now, whenever I visit Thomas, we talk about Margaret.<\/p>\n We talk about my father.<\/p>\n We talk about the family secret that lasted seventy years.<\/p>\n And sometimes Thomas tells me about the mother he barely remembered.<\/p>\n I tell him about the uncle who never stopped wondering.<\/p>\n Neither story can change the past.<\/p>\n But they changed what the past meant.<\/p>\n The boy had turned out all right.<\/p>\n My father finally knew it.<\/p>\n And in the end, that was the answer he had been waiting his entire life to hear.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" My father was eighty-nine years old. For three years, dementia had been taking him from us in pieces. Not all at once. That would have been easier. Instead, it took … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":9998,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[14],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-9997","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-new-port"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/ngareadfullstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9997","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/ngareadfullstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/ngareadfullstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ngareadfullstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ngareadfullstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=9997"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/ngareadfullstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9997\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":9999,"href":"https:\/\/ngareadfullstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9997\/revisions\/9999"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ngareadfullstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/9998"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/ngareadfullstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=9997"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ngareadfullstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=9997"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/ngareadfullstory.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=9997"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
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