I have had a great life. I have been a lot of places, had a lot of great experiences, and built many long lasting relationships. Despite all of the good that I have been able to experience, there has always been something missing. I never knew who my father was. Well after 28 years, all of that is about to change. In about 24 hours, I am going to be getting on a plane to go meet my biological father.
I never thought this would happen. For me, my father always has been like a mystery… a myth. I mean I knew he had to exist, but I felt it was the question I would never have the answer to. It ranked up there with the mystery of GOD and the assassination of Kennedy. My mother wasn’t exactly open about the situation. She definitely had some hard feelings, because when I would ask her about him, she would always say she didn’t want to talk about it. The times she did give me any information she would say he was a good athlete, but he wasn’t a good man. After that, I was only left with the name on my birth certificate.
So growing up, I was so confused. I was a light skinned black kid with a white mother in a mostly minority neighborhood. It was tough. I mean I was black, but nobody in my family was black. I was even sometimes mistaken for being puerto-rican(I still get that too). All of my knowledge and interaction with black people took place in my community, not in my home. Now don’t get it twisted, my mother and the rest of my white family did a great job raising me. My grandfather is the greatest man I have ever met. My mother instilled morals in me, and was the best example of hard work, sacrifice, and humility anyone could ever ask for. But there was always that other side, that unknown I was missing. When I was a kid in school people used to always ask me what was up with my father. I came up with every story in the book, because I had no idea. I would tell some people he was in jail for selling drugs, or was in a Military prison for shooting someone, or that he died. As I got older I stopped making up stories and just settled on the fact that I never knew.
Not knowing who my father wore on me more and more as I got older. I mean I was married, had two children of my own, but I still didn’t really know who I was or where I really came from. There were times where I would put the thought of not knowing my father in the back of my mind, but there were other times where it would come to the forefront and tear me apart inside. Part of me didn’t even want to know, but the other part of me made me feel like I had to know. I didn’t want to live my whole life and never find out who my father was. What if he would die and I never had the opportunity to speak to him? What if he was already dead? There were so many questions… and no answers. I would again confront my mother and this time she basically told me everything she knew, which wasn’t really all that much. I mean she gave me some possible locations, an age, and left it to me from there.
So I would again struggle with myself back and forth whether I should or shouldn’t try to find my father. I got some valuable encouragement from a few people. They told me I shouldn’t be scared of what I would find, and that I should just do it. For that… I am forever grateful. So one day I just had enough. I sat at my computer and told myself today is the day. It was a Thursday. I would sit at work that day, use my resources and internet savvy, in hopes of trying to find my father. I searched a few people finder sites. There were quite a few people who shared his name. There were some that would list the name, age, location, previous addresses, people who he may be associated with, and there age, all for free. So I found one of a man who lived in San Antonio, TX, and was 48 years old. This matched the information my mother gave me. When I looked at the people who were listed that he could possibly be associated with, there was one who had a very distinct name. So I put that name in Google, and the first thing that came up was a Facebook account. When I clicked on the link, it was the picture of a 26 year old black woman. HMMMmmmm. So what I did was I created a Facebook account, and wrote her this long email telling her my story. I told her about my mom, how she met my father while she was in the army, that they were stationed in Texas, Boston, and every other little piece of information I could think of. So after I sent this email I took a look at the friends this woman had, and there were two other black women who had the same last name as my father. So I said you know what, I am going to send them the same email I sent to the first girl. So I sent it, and after only a few minutes, one of the girls emailed me back. A lot of the information I provided sounded to her like her father. So that whole afternoon we emailed each other back and forth collaborating information, and everything kind of came together. She called her mother that night, she spoke to him, and he confirmed it. I found my father.
All of that happened last March. I went from being an only child, to having 8 brothers and sisters. All of this was so overwhelming to me. I spoke to my father for the first time on that Saturday. I told him I didn’t want him to be my father. I didn’t want any money or any advice. I just wanted to find him and find out who he is because that would help me better understand who I am. His opportunity to actually be my father was long gone. Our conversation was so surreal. I was talking to the man who I wasn’t sure even existed. My conversations with his children were all very interesting. It turns out one time or another he did the same thing to them that he did to me. They understood what I was going through. They talked to me and tried to make me feel comfortable about my situation. I ended up talking to my father 2 or 3 times after the first time, and that was it.
So now I am here. I have to meet him. I just have to get it over with. I have no expectations. Hopefully he won’t try to give me any advice or any sob story about him trying to find me. Two of his children will also be there so it will be cool getting to meet them too. My best friend is going with me to give me some support. I am excited. I am nervous. I am anxious. I just want to get it over with. I need to do this so I can achieve some inner peace. This will be a big step in my relentless pursuit of piece of mind. I don’t know what is going to happen, but we will see. I will keep you updated.
I never thought this would happen. For me, my father always has been like a mystery… a myth. I mean I knew he had to exist, but I felt it was the question I would never have the answer to. It ranked up there with the mystery of GOD and the assassination of Kennedy. My mother wasn’t exactly open about the situation. She definitely had some hard feelings, because when I would ask her about him, she would always say she didn’t want to talk about it. The times she did give me any information she would say he was a good athlete, but he wasn’t a good man. After that, I was only left with the name on my birth certificate.
So growing up, I was so confused. I was a light skinned black kid with a white mother in a mostly minority neighborhood. It was tough. I mean I was black, but nobody in my family was black. I was even sometimes mistaken for being puerto-rican(I still get that too). All of my knowledge and interaction with black people took place in my community, not in my home. Now don’t get it twisted, my mother and the rest of my white family did a great job raising me. My grandfather is the greatest man I have ever met. My mother instilled morals in me, and was the best example of hard work, sacrifice, and humility anyone could ever ask for. But there was always that other side, that unknown I was missing. When I was a kid in school people used to always ask me what was up with my father. I came up with every story in the book, because I had no idea. I would tell some people he was in jail for selling drugs, or was in a Military prison for shooting someone, or that he died. As I got older I stopped making up stories and just settled on the fact that I never knew.
Not knowing who my father wore on me more and more as I got older. I mean I was married, had two children of my own, but I still didn’t really know who I was or where I really came from. There were times where I would put the thought of not knowing my father in the back of my mind, but there were other times where it would come to the forefront and tear me apart inside. Part of me didn’t even want to know, but the other part of me made me feel like I had to know. I didn’t want to live my whole life and never find out who my father was. What if he would die and I never had the opportunity to speak to him? What if he was already dead? There were so many questions… and no answers. I would again confront my mother and this time she basically told me everything she knew, which wasn’t really all that much. I mean she gave me some possible locations, an age, and left it to me from there.
So I would again struggle with myself back and forth whether I should or shouldn’t try to find my father. I got some valuable encouragement from a few people. They told me I shouldn’t be scared of what I would find, and that I should just do it. For that… I am forever grateful. So one day I just had enough. I sat at my computer and told myself today is the day. It was a Thursday. I would sit at work that day, use my resources and internet savvy, in hopes of trying to find my father. I searched a few people finder sites. There were quite a few people who shared his name. There were some that would list the name, age, location, previous addresses, people who he may be associated with, and there age, all for free. So I found one of a man who lived in San Antonio, TX, and was 48 years old. This matched the information my mother gave me. When I looked at the people who were listed that he could possibly be associated with, there was one who had a very distinct name. So I put that name in Google, and the first thing that came up was a Facebook account. When I clicked on the link, it was the picture of a 26 year old black woman. HMMMmmmm. So what I did was I created a Facebook account, and wrote her this long email telling her my story. I told her about my mom, how she met my father while she was in the army, that they were stationed in Texas, Boston, and every other little piece of information I could think of. So after I sent this email I took a look at the friends this woman had, and there were two other black women who had the same last name as my father. So I said you know what, I am going to send them the same email I sent to the first girl. So I sent it, and after only a few minutes, one of the girls emailed me back. A lot of the information I provided sounded to her like her father. So that whole afternoon we emailed each other back and forth collaborating information, and everything kind of came together. She called her mother that night, she spoke to him, and he confirmed it. I found my father.
All of that happened last March. I went from being an only child, to having 8 brothers and sisters. All of this was so overwhelming to me. I spoke to my father for the first time on that Saturday. I told him I didn’t want him to be my father. I didn’t want any money or any advice. I just wanted to find him and find out who he is because that would help me better understand who I am. His opportunity to actually be my father was long gone. Our conversation was so surreal. I was talking to the man who I wasn’t sure even existed. My conversations with his children were all very interesting. It turns out one time or another he did the same thing to them that he did to me. They understood what I was going through. They talked to me and tried to make me feel comfortable about my situation. I ended up talking to my father 2 or 3 times after the first time, and that was it.
So now I am here. I have to meet him. I just have to get it over with. I have no expectations. Hopefully he won’t try to give me any advice or any sob story about him trying to find me. Two of his children will also be there so it will be cool getting to meet them too. My best friend is going with me to give me some support. I am excited. I am nervous. I am anxious. I just want to get it over with. I need to do this so I can achieve some inner peace. This will be a big step in my relentless pursuit of piece of mind. I don’t know what is going to happen, but we will see. I will keep you updated.
Ok that's all for now... thank you for visiting and stay tuned...
ay that risk was worth it, glad u came thru! My nigga cool and laid back enjoyed kickin witcha! Please come Again...lol
ReplyDelete