Cara McDonough is a freelance writer living in New Haven, Conn.

When my father died in June from glioblastoma — an aggressive brain cancer — my mom, brother and I began the difficult but important task of passing on the news to loved ones.

Among the many people I wrote to was a man who goes by the Twitter handle "TruckerBobS," an ultra-conservative whom my dad had encountered on the social media platform.

They'd never met, but were — against all odds — good friends.

My father, Fred Rotondaro, was the kind of liberal who thought Hillary Clinton was too corporate to be our candidate. He chaired a progressive Catholic organization, served as a fellow at the Center for American Progress and lent his voice to many Democratic causes. He enjoyed watching MSNBC over coffee in bed where he would write emails to fellow activists who were — because of his long career in D.C. — well-connected and capable of influencing politicians.

But my father also thoroughly enjoyed engaging political adversaries in spirited discourse, especially on social media. Twitter was the perfect medium, which is funny because he was not a tech-savvy individual (as evidenced by his regular spelling mistakes). Despite this, he gained hundreds of followers and used conservative hashtags to discover what the "enemy" was talking about.

That's how he came across Robert P. Smith, an avid President Trump supporter who lives in Missouri. Trucker Bob — or just "Trucker," as my dad called him — is, indeed, a trucker. He's also the type of voter whom the media has intensely analyzed since November.

My father and Trucker first began interacting on Twitter before the Trump circus had vehemently divided the nation. Even so, they had plenty to fight about: gun control, President Barack Obama and, of course, how stupid each other's party was. They drew others into their tweetstorms, often devolving into name-calling. To be honest, I think my father was guiltier of the two in that regard.

At some point during the campaign, I took a deep breath and "followed" Trucker on Twitter. My liberal Twitter feed quickly became less pleasant with his earnest commentary on the Pizzagate conspiracy theory, Democratic politicians and Clinton's emails .

But I resisted dropping him. Forging connections was my dad's thing, and I wanted to be more like him. After watching them engage for awhile, I realized Trucker had the same gift. The two inquired about each other's families and interests, forming a long-distance friendship marked by — yes — aggressive language but also true affection.

In February 2016, Trucker had asked my dad about some harsh East Coast weather. My dad replied that my young children loved the snow, but "they aren't old farts like me." A few months later, my father forgot his password and locked himself out of Twitter. Trucker Bob wrote me to ask if my dad was okay.

Sometimes, unbelievably, they agreed on the issues.

"I think our govt is for sale to whichever big business gives them the most money. Fix that = fix govt," Trucker wrote in January 2016. "I think big business has hurt Americans far more than government ever has," my dad replied to him, with a follow up: "What can I say? Yi@u (sic; I told you about the spelling) are right. A few live like kings and millions get screwed."

The tone of their relationship helped me look past the politics, noting the details we never dig deep enough to unearth in these surface relationships with our adversaries: I found Trucker's adoration of his cocker spaniels, for example, endearing.

When I told Trucker my dad was sick earlier this year, he said he missed their daily banter and was praying for him and us. When I wrote, just a few months later, to tell him my father had died peacefully, surrounded by family, he told me how incredibly sad he was.

"I never met Fred but grew to love him in a sort of adversarial sort of way," he said. "You couldn't not like him. Truly."

Trucker and I have stayed in touch. He's invited me to come meet his family in Missouri, and says they'll make me their specialty, Fettuccine Lemonada and Cajun Chicken. I'd very much like to do that. I hope we'll keep the tradition of Twitter sparring alive, too, but Trucker says he won't be nearly as hard on me as he was on my dad, out of respect for him.

These friendships might be the key to fixing the political mess we're in right now. I wonder how to make them happen more often.

Shortly after my father's death, Trucker told me that John Podesta, former chairman of Clinton's presidential campaign, had mentioned my dad's passing on Twitter. I found Podesta's tweet in question with a notification that would have been unthinkable on any other occasion: "Robert P. Smith liked."

My heart swelled.