I was born in the United States to an Afro-Puerto Rican Mother and a Mestizo, Mexican Father. When I was nearly 3 years old my father was arrested and sent away for 7 years out of 15 year sentence to federal prison on Marijuana charges. Upon his release his Green Card was revoked, thus resulting in my father being deported. Despite the tumultuous relationship my parents had, around my junior year of high school my mother encouraged me to have a conversation with my father and to give grace. From the calling card era to Whats App, I spent years boundary setting and restarting my relationship with my dad with the help of a few therapists who would serve as my advisors on how to navigate my curiosity and healing. The last time I was in Mexico, we were living there for a few months, and returned to the states months before my younger brother was born. Between our return and my brother’s birth, my father was no longer physically in my life. It would be 26 years before I saw any of my Mexican family again. These few photos are precious recollections of my paternal family reunion between Guadalajara and Mexico City, where I shared many memories with folks who recognized my face, even 26 years later, and who were strong enough in their vulnerability to welcome me back in their reality.