Okay, this might get a little hard on me. And it is quite long. Some of you may not understand. But after last weeks revelations, yet again, I get turned upside down.
Technically, I have three (3), yes count them, three fathers. My biological father, the guy who's name is on my birth certificate and the guy who took it upon himself to raise me knowing I was not his. With the later being the man whom I call dad.
As I was growing up, my parents (the last of the three men) split. I would spend sometime at my dads house during the summers. But the majority of it was spent at my moms. And for the longest time, up until I was a teen, I would blame my mom for their split, though i knew deep inside that was not the case.
During my years of growing up, another man came into my life that I did not know. He being my biological father. Or so it now seems to be not the case. The first time I met this man, he had a girl with him. A few years younger then me in fact. They were around for a summer. The girl and I played together a lot. But they never did stay at our house. This is a key point to this. One day, they just weren't there.
A few years later when i was a young teen, he showed back up. But she was not with him. It was at this time, that I found out that this man was my biological father. It was at this time, that he showed something that some would try to assume was fatherly duties. Yet again, a very short time later, he was no longer there.
Being me, i was inquisitive. Still am, so I guess I learned young. I began asking and grilling members of his side of the family for years to get the truth. Only to be shunned, spurned and treated like I was the Son of Satan. During all these years, I would keep getting the same tidbits. So I had a life puzzle to put together with no clues. Hell, I always liked scavenger hunts. This one however, would take half of my life up to this point.
Back in 1997 while i was ending my college life, I was dating a girl going on 4 years. Out of the blue, this guy showed up again. By this time, both of us had an understanding who he was. But at this point I would not and could not call him dad, father or anything less then a dick. But we did get a long. It was at this time, he went with me to Ohio to pick up my girlfriend at the time, so she could come back to NY for Christmas that year to spend some time with me and my immediate family. Few days later, Houdini struck again. that was the last time I had seen him or spoken with him until last week. That covers a span of 15 years.
Now, during all this time. I was under the assumption that I had a sister. Where did I get that idea from you ask? Well, the little girl that he had brought with him the first time I met him. According to people on his side of the family, she was in fact my sister. Different mother, same father. I always wanted a sister. So during all these years, I would keep asking about her and when the internet finally became the norm, I kept trying to find her, based on what few clues of her name and possible locations I had. All to no avail.
Skip forward about 20 years. I logged into Facebook last week to post a image for stopping SOPA/PIPA. I hadn't been to Facebook in months. There was a message waiting for me, in which I thought it might have been a friend from the BMX world. No, It's was my sister. She had found me. I'm elated. Static and even overjoyed. We began to talk about our pasts. A lot of questions. She remembered things that only the two of us would know. Things we did as kids that one summer she was around.
I ended up calling her that night. And we have spoken a few times on the phone during all last week. Now, here's what really pisses me off beyond no end. After our first phone call, I find o ut that this father of mine, live about an hour away. And that he is on Facebook. (all of this is in another post on this blog)
Needless to say he emailed me. The content of this email was heart shattering to say the least. He states without doubt, that this girl is not my sister. That he is not her father. That his sister likes to make things up. And not to stop at the her level on that. Then he proceeds to tell me, that he may not be my father. That he had no reason to doubt my mother. And that while he was in the service around the years of my conception and birth, he wasn't in NY that often.
Talk about a slap in the face. All these years of a possible lie. All these years of false presumptions based on words from family, (supposed) family members. We had carried on our email conversation for a few days. in the end, he gave me his number to call him. My only reply was, "Don't be hesitant if I don't, after all it's been 15 years."
So I sent this email to my (sister?). And we have spoken a few more time and even had text conversations through the week. Some information, if in fact was true from the supposed family members. In that she has had a hard time with drugs. More then once. Though I would love to help, that I long to help, i can't. Not because she may not be my sister. For all intense and purposes, SHE IS my sister. And I told her that. Based on our conversations, she keeps referring herself as a total fuck up. She has to be willing first to help herself. Then and only then can I offer some morale support. But that's as far as it can go. Don't ask me why. As I sat here the other night and thought deep and hard to the point I started to cry. But that was the same answer I came back to.
I thought about all the consequences. And the consequences of those actions, and built a tree. And for some reason, all branches lead back to the same answer. And I can honestly say, I don't know why.
But be that it may, a part of my life in which stood an empty hole for so long has been closed. I found something that I had spent a better part of my life searching for. Now, whether or not it turns out to be the real thing or not, who knows. But to me, it is real. To me, sometimes a heart with stands the battle tested time of lies, deceit and emptiness.
We may not ever be chummy buddies. Nor may we even see each other for a few more years, if ever. But the fact that I can speak with her means a lot.
As for my (father?), i might call him. I might even go see him. Why, call it curiosity. Call it what ever. I may even fork over the cash for DNA testing. If it comes out that he is my father, will my feelings change toward him? Probably not. Though I was raised by a single mom, she did the best she could to teach both my brother and I respect and love. But I find it very hard to both love and respect someone who doesn't show it in return. If he's not my father, then nothing changes. Regardless of either way it is, we won't be best pals. We won't go out for a drink or to a race. We will just continue the way we have for the last 20 or so years.
Call me ignorant. Call me what ever. But through my life's journey so far, I've become cynical with the best. I've learned to forgive where it can be forgiving. And in the end, I may forgive and forget. But a part of me will always be empty and hurt.
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