"Neither orphaned nor adopted, I spent my middle and high school years adrift." Last winter, I received a distraught message from a man’s voice I didn’t recognize. “Daddy’s dying, can you come?” My brother was in Washington state, where he and my father lived together in an overgrown and unincorporated part of the county near the Canadian border. I hadn’t seen or spoken to either of them in 30 years. When we were kids, my younger brother and I were inseparable, and people called me Daddy’s girl.