Growing up, Melissa Shultz sometimes felt like she had two fathers. One version of her dad, she told me, was playful and quick to laugh. He was a compelling storyteller who helped shape her career as a writer, and he gave great bear hugs. He often bought her small gifts: a pink “princess” phone when she was a teen, toys for her sons when she became a mom. Some of their most intimate moments came when she cut his hair; it was, she said, “a way to be close without talking.” He was there for her