In 1998, my dad was living in Philadelphia. I was in Texas (where I've been since 1966 when my husband joined the Air Force). My dad said the photo didn't belong to him, so I promised that I would make a copy of the image and return it right away Although I followed my dad's instructions, I never believed that the photo wasn't his. When I asked about the "other man" in the photo, my dad would only say, "Just a man who stepped in because he wanted to be in the photo."My dad and my adoptive mother [Hanka Weinstock Taus] died 11 days apart in October 2001. It wasn't until September of 2011 that I had the opportunity to go through my parents' documents, hoping desperately to find clues about the past. I wasn't consciously looking for the photo; no matter, it wasn't in among those papers.There were so many secrets - my mother's murder, my aunt's survival, my aunt's mother (who was my grandfather's second wife and my grandmother) and so much more. Why did my dad not just unburden himself when the opportunity presented itself? Why did he keep holding on to those secrets?