9. After the Fact

Meeting my father was only the beginning. The hard part was yet to come. Keeping contact and trying to forge some sort of bond would become the next emotional task. I made a promise to myself to see to it that I would get in touch with him every few months or so. I have kept that promise.

Over the next few years though, Scott would begin to confuse me. I realized that our relationship was fragile and still in the early stages, but it was the way he acted and responded that would make things difficult. Since our meet up in Oklahoma, it has been me and only me initiating any contact with him. He had said that he wanted to keep in touch and wanted to have a friendship. I knew he couldn't be my father and I didn't expect him to be, so we agreed to a friendship. That is all I wanted to begin with anyway. I kept my end of the deal by sending him a text message every once in a while. It was always me who had to do this. He would respond most of the time. It would mostly be a simple response. I would send him three or four texts full of questions and he would usually answer one. It was always the "how are you doing" question. He would reply with "good" or "getting along." Other times he would not reply at all.

I remember sending him an email about a year after we met. I had gotten frustrated with the fact that he kept his distance from me. He would say one thing and do the exact opposite. The email expressed my feelings about our situation. I told him he was confusing me and I assured him that all I wanted was to be friends. After our conversation over lunch we had, I expected a little more from his end, but I wasn't getting anything. I was almost thinking that he was just doing all of this to be nice. Everyone said that he was a really nice guy, even my mother. But was he a little too nice? Did he really just want to call it quits give up? Did he even want to start something to begin with? I asked him all of this.

I thought about what he had said of my mother. He had said that he wasn't sure that I was his. He said that only my mother would know. He also said that a way to be completely accurate was to take a DNA test. But then he quickly went to say that it was unnecessary because my mom knew best who my father was, and if she said it was him then he wasn't going to argue. But over the months I began to wonder about this. My mother was infamous at changing her stories and keeping things from me. What would be any different with this situation? Maybe I wasn't his. So I told him in the email. I said that even though my mother told he was my father, there was just no way at the time for me to know the absolute truth. So I asked him if we could get a DNA test. I was ninety-five percent sure that he was my dad, but there was that five percent of me that was not satisfied. If he was telling the truth, then my dad could quite possibly be someone else. During this time I hadn't talked to my mother yet about meeting him, and so it was only his side of the story that I was hearing. I hadn't heard my mother's yet. I knew I was getting risky in asking him this. I didn't want to scare him or cause him to avoid me. I was just angry at how things were going.

He never responded to that email. I really honestly think it was because of that question. Thinking about it now, I'm guessing he told me to begin with that a DNA test was not necessary because he didn't want one. Once one gets done and the proof is there, then that's it. There would be no more denying it. It would become reality on paper. I know he got the email because it was his main address. He must have thought it would be easier to not respond. I got the hint. It would be the first of many hints. Deep down I knew that he didn't want to get any closer. As long as no one found out on his end and as long as he could keep me happy with one-liners in a text message, then he was satisfied.

I understand that he has his own life and his own family. But I deserve something. If he doesn't want anything to do with me, I would be fine with it. But rather than drag me on for years, just tell me. Personally, if he wanted to keep it a secret, I would be fine with that too. But he seems to want both. He just doesn't want to tell me. It was a pretty big deal for me to get the guts to contact him. I was so young.

The conversations we would later have were less and less about us, and more and more about things such as the weather. I used to email him every once in a while, but quit because he wasn't responding as much. So I would just text him. It was quick and easy. He answered most of the time. It was weird because I almost knew if he would respond or not, just by what I wrote to him. If I simply asked him how he was doing or what the weather was like, he would respond. But if I asked him a question about something personal, nine time out of ten he wouldn't respond. That would be okay. I could play that game. I would just text him until he did respond. I knew he was getting my messages.

There was this barrier it seemed that I was not allowed to go over. If I did, he would cut me off. As long as I kept it short and sweet, he was okay. I remember asking him in an email for his address one time. I knew he wouldn't give it to me, but it was worth a shot. I already had his address. I just wanted to see what he was willing to say. I figured that maybe he thought I would stop by or show up knocking on the door at his place. I am hardly like that. Yeah, sometimes I have actually thought about it. With an address and Google, it's pretty easy to do. I used to dream before I met him, back when I had the crazy idea he and his family would take me in with open arms, that when we met I would be able to hang out. I envisioned sitting with him on a porch drink a few beers laughing and talking about how we both live our lives for the last two decades. Again, this was just a dream. I really do wish it would come true. He seems to do so much with his son, so sitting on a porch with a few beers having a conversation doesn't seem like it would be the toughest thing in the world to do.

It was in May of 2011, when he opened up a little bit. It wasn't exactly good news though. He told me that his wife had passed away a few months prior and that he was taking it really hard. I felt really bad. I had read about her. Her name was Judith Kim. She went by Kim I'm guessing since that is how I was mainly able to look her up online. She was a breast cancer survivor. In late 2010, the cancer came back and she passed away that December. I don't know the details or what actually happened, but after reading about her, I learned that she was a very sweet and caring person. When I was talking to my mother, she even said that, after reading about Kim, my mom saw that she was a very nice woman and had a lot to offer the world. That was a lot to hear, coming from my mom.

I don't know what it would feel like losing your spouse, or your mother at that. I have dealt with death in my family for a long time, but nothing like losing someone this close. It would be hard. I texted him and told him that I was sorry to hear that and if he needed someone to talk to, I was a great listener. I would be there if he needed me to be.

The next several weeks all I was thinking about was him. So many things now were reminding me of him. It was hard not to think about him when I work at a hospital and hear the word cancer like once a day. He was all that was on my mind. I started texting him more. Then in June, I texted him and asked him if he would want to meet up again. I said Aug sixth was a good weekend for me. He didn’t respond. I texted a few more time, this time about how hot it was outside. He still didn't respond. After four days, he finally wrote back. He asked how I was and how the married life was going. Then he said he would check his schedule and see if that date would work out for meeting up. I was kind of disappointed that he wouldn't say something a little more promising. But I couldn't expect much out of him. So to hear that he would check and see would have to do. I left it at that.

A few weeks went by and I decided to text him. I asked him how he was getting along and if they had gotten any rain lately. He didn't respond. A few hours later, I got some guts and decided to ask him how he felt. I still have the text messages. This is what was said.

T. Do you ever wonder like what I'm up to, how I’m doing, or think about me period? I've just been thinking about you more lately and that's why I've been texting you.

S. Yes to all above. Just lately I've been trying to get my head together. I have a quote from one of my favorite movies that sums up where I am emotionally in my life right now. "Life has a way of making the foreseeable that which never happens and the unforeseeable that which your life becomes." I'm so sorry the way our story has played out. I believe everything happens for a reason, although the reason for our situation is not currently known to me and most certainly not fair to you. I can only hope that someday we will be able to understand...

T. I hope I didn't upset you. It's just hard for me to figure out how you really feel about me. After twenty-two years I finally got to meet you, which was one of the most monumental times of my life. And three years later the extent of our conversations is the weather. Even asking you that simple thing makes me feel like a burden. Ninety percent of me feels you want nothing to do with me (like I'm just a skeleton in the closet), and ten percent thinks maybe you just don't know what to say. It's tough on me too. This has never been about me jumping in saying "hey dad, what are we going to do today?" I just wanted a relationship, friendship, or something. A phone call saying hi. Maybe learn a little about my other half, anything. A kick in the ass for me bothering you lol. I don’t even know if you care to know me.

S. Your right... I don't know what to do. August 6th is still a possibility, will know for sure the week of. I like to ride my Harley. It gives me a chance to think... Maybe I'll ride it up to OKC. Bear with me... We'll figure it out.

After this I waited. I was hoping that he would reply with whether or not he was going to be able to make it or not. The days passed and August fifth came. I hadn't heard from him, and I was sure he didn't forget about what weekend it was. I decided to text him. I have these texts as well and this is what was said.

T. Are you free tomorrow or do you have plans?

S. It's not looking good. I have to work tomorrow.

This really upset me. Over a month to make the plans and at the last minute, he says he has to work. Maybe everyone was right. Maybe my gut feeling was right. Maybe he really doesn't want to know me. I was so upset at this point. I had thought this whole time that he would be too nice to not show up. I had even told a few people that I was going to be meeting my father again. I was excited. The people told were happy for me. How was I going to tell them that he pulled a fast one and had to work?  I understand if he had to work. But what about the next day which was Sunday?  He didn't even offer. In fact he didn't even say when a good time would be. I texted him back.

T. Well you got to get as much work in as you can in this economy. I guess if you ever want to visit just let me know when and where. I'm available 24/7 and can meet, drive, or fly anywhere. I do feel like I'm chasing something that is not there but I've been trying to ignore the hints and vibes. But it is clear as the sky above us. I'm like an annoying fly that won't go away. Reading about you, you were this genuine, fatherly, family man. That's where the hope for at least a friendship came from. I read about your son, and it's weird knowing that I have a brother out there that I'll never know. Maybe that is what scares you the most. I don’t know. I do know that you obviously have boundaries that you want to keep firm and I totally respect that. I'm not trying to ruin what you have built or make you feel like you have to explain your past to anyone. I don't believe that what I am asking for is wrong. I'm just living. Many go through this same deal. And the outcome goes both ways. Good and bad. I thought it would work out okay, since you actually replied to me and wanted to meet and said that you were okay with a friendship. But it really just feels like a three year rejection. If you wanted the slightest anything, I think it would have happened by now. but like I said, maybe I'm chasing something that your running away from.

He then called me. I didn't answer. He left me a message saying that he couldn't text all that he wanted to say. He said he was sorry for having to cancel the plans to meet. His wife used to run their magazine publishing company and since she passed away he has been having to do it all. His magazines were supposed to be printed early in the week, but they were not finished until Friday, so he had to spend all of Friday and Saturday delivering so they would get out on time. He also said to keep him posted.

I texted him back, telling him that I got is voicemail. I asked him if it would be alright if I called him that evening. He said that would work. This happened to be the day that I told my mother about him. I had called her right after I got off work and was headed to the gym. Later on that evening after knowing what really happened. According to her story, I called Scott. The conversation didn't last very long. It was only about seven minutes or so. He apologized and said that he would let me know as soon as a weekend opened up for him. He said that it shouldn't be too long and that he would try to make it happen before the end of September. He said that he was still coaching hockey and the season would be picking up then, which would take up all of his time. So the way he was putting it, it wouldn’t be long before we could meet up. It is now the last weekend of August and I'm still waiting on that call. I doubt it will happen, but I could be surprised.

None of this I've been writing has been to make Scott out to be the bad guy. This has been about my journey. It's the way I have seen and interpreted things. He may have entirely different reasoning for keeping his distance. He may feel bad. He may feel like he made a mistake in meeting me. Whatever the case may be, life will go on and the World will keep spinning. I just want everyone to be happy, including him. This has been a very difficult time in my life and I know that it will get better. It always gets better. There is always a light at the end of the tunnel. I just have to learn how to reach it.

8. Telling My Mother

If there was ever a way to know how people would react to certain things, I would have loved to know what that way was. Most people that know my mother know that she is one of the hardest people in the world to understand. She shows no emotion. She keeps all of her feelings in so no one ever knows what she is thinking or feeling. So imagine what I was going through when I was contemplating how or if I was going to tell her about meeting my father. I had no idea how she was going to react to news like this.

In early August it happened. I told her. It was kind of random and unexpected. I never rehearsed or prepared for it. I just saw an opportunity and I took it. I had called her after work and was asking her some questions about my health history. The day before I had gotten some news from my doctor about some issues I was having. He asked me to try and get a little family history rounded up. So I called my mother, and started right off the bat. I asked her about her side of the family's health. Most of the stuff she told me, I already knew. But she talked for about twenty minutes on this portion of the topic. I didn't expect the conversation to last very long. I had called her on my way to the gym and had been sitting in the parking lot for a few minutes. She discussed her mother's side as well as her father's. Then out of the blue, I just said it. I said "what about my dad?" I asked her what his health was like and if she knew anything about him. Just bringing him up to her was raising the hair on my neck. It was a hit and miss with her and I was waiting for screaming or a dial-tone. Instead I heard something a little different.

She was calm. She said that as far as she could remember, he was healthy as an ox. There wasn't a lot she could remember about his family, but she remembered he was a healthy and pretty fit guy. This was no surprise to me as from what I knew about him, he seemed very healthy. I had already met him and I asked him about his health. He too said that he was healthy as can be. So I already knew, so to speak, but I just wanted to know what my mother knew about him. The news I had gotten from the doctor was pretty big, so I really needed to know as much as I could.

After she told me as much as I needed to know, I began to think. "Should I say it? Should I ask?" There was a moment of silence. I went for it. I told her. I told her that I there was something that I needed to tell her. I said that I didn't know how she would react, but I had to tell her and she needed to keep a cool head. I said that she had to understand my point of view and why I did it. I said that in 2008 I had met Scott. The phone was silent. I thought this was it. I'll never be able to talk to my own mother again. She was going to disown me. Then she spoke. The first thing she said was "what did he say?"

I went silent. Her tone was somewhat peaceful. I had kept it from her for three years and it was like she knew all along. At least that's the vibe I got. There was no yelling. There was no screaming. She was calm. Was this even my mother I was talking to? Who was this imposter. I thought she would be choking me through the phone, but she was curious. I'm a professional at outcomes, and the two outcomes that I was considering, didn't happen. What was going on here? I was confused. She was calm.

I started to feel guilty. I had kept this from her for so long because I was scared of her reaction. But when I told her, her reaction was, well, normal. I caught my breath real quick and cleared my head. It was a long silence before I spoke. I almost didn't know what to say. I thought quickly. I said that yes, I did meet him. He was a great guy. He seemed like a nice guy. He had a family and a son. My mother responded with a "yeah I know." She then went on to talk about him and what she had read about him. Apparently she had looked him up off and on as well. I don't blame her for that. I'm sure every time she looks at me, I remind her of him.

I asked her how long they were together. I put it straight forward and to the point. I asked when they started dating and when he took off for good. She was easy to talk to and it was kind of weird. I felt like I could ask her anything and it felt good. This is how I always wanted to talk to my mother. I mean, she was my mother. I didn't want to be afraid to talk about things. The feeling I was getting during this was almost a feeling of relief. I asked her if it was just a bar fling or was it a real relationship. She said she was with him for about a year and a half to two years. I was in shock. I had always thought that he hadn't been around for very long. But I would come to realize that I was mistaken.

He had told me that "do to the circumstances" he didn't know if I were his or not. He said that he and my mother were not together for very long. I heard his side of the story first. He didn't say it was a fling, but he sure as hell made it seem like one. Things at this point were down right confusing, but as the conversation went on, the puzzle pieces started putting themselves in place. Things were starting to make sense. My mother said that they were dating for quite a while. She went into details. She said that yes, he was a very nice, genuine, well-mannered man. She said that he was the love of her life at the time. He was the one. They had dated for the entire time he was around. Nothing more, I guess. She said that he was from money, but if you ever met him, you wouldn’t have the slightest clue. What she meant was that he was simple. His parents were wealthy, but it seemed like he didn’t want any part of that lifestyle. He was the simple life kind of guy. My mother said that he had bought a little shack out in the country, north of Fort Worth.

My mother at the time lived in Lancaster, Texas, and would drive out to his place often. After a while she got an apartment in Grapevine so that it would be easier for her to see him. She said that she was in love. He was such a great guy. I'm listening to all of this trying to figure how to feel. This guy left me and my mom and she is talking about him like he is the greatest thing ever. I would understand when it was all said and done. She said that he played the guitar and when she went out there to his place, he would sing songs to her. He must have been something if she remembered all this after twenty-five years.

I asked her when she last saw him. This boggled me. Apparently he saw me last when I was nearly six months old. That verifies the amount of time that she said that they were together. So his version of not that long was actually quite a while. I asked her what happened. Why did he just leave? She went on to tell me that he didn't just up and leave. It was gradual. She said that he was from money and she was not. And a lot of times the two don't mix. Her case for being with him was like a Cinderella story. It was something that shouldn't have happened but it did. She said the main reason for him leaving was his family, his parents especially. They wanted what was best for their son and my mom wasn't it. My mother said that he had two sisters. One was okay with the idea of them having me and the other one wasn't. She said that one sister actually came to the hospital with him to see me. My mom thought her name was Lisa, but she couldn't be absolutely positive because it's been so long and she might have the name confused with the other sister.

I was excited at the fact that he came to visit me in the hospital. My aunt had been the one to call him to let him know I was born. He came after a few days of me being there. My mom said that his sister came with him. His sister was emotional. She was teary eyed and saying how she was an aunt. I was ecstatic. Someone on his side was actually excited about me for a moment. This was awesome. I made me wonder if that sister ever thought about me. How could you not. You think you would remember your first nephew. Everyone would remember that. Anyway, my mother continued with how his family thought it was best if he leave. They thought that maybe my mother was just in it for the money. Maybe my mother wanted to keep me so that she could get into his pockets. This seems harsh, but I know this attitude is out there all over in full force.

What my mother was saying also made a lot of sense. Scot had told me "due to the circumstances, he didn't think I was his." This all was connecting. He didn't want to settle down at the time, so leaving seemed easier. Maybe he was getting pressured by his parents. That kind of pressure has a lot of impact. Maybe his family thought all that my mother wanted in keeping me, rather than abort, was money. Maybe they assumed that my mom would try and take him to the bank. My guess was that they did assume that. My mom said that one of the few ways of getting back at them was to prove to them she was not after money. She said that's why she never contacted him again and why she kept him from me for as long as she could. She wanted to prove his family wrong. She wanted to prove that she did not want to abort because I was real. I was not a ticket to money. And according to my standards, she did prove them wrong.

His comment now comes to play. If they thought so much that my mother wanted money, then after so many years of not asking for money or getting in touch with him for that matter, they must have thought I wasn't even his and that my mom was lying or my mom had cheated. After hearing this or telling yourself this for so long, you'll start to believe it. It's called fooling yourself. It's the same as the story of the fox and the grapes. The fox tried and tried to get the grapes. And when he realized he couldn't reach them, he told himself that they were sour anyways. He was fooling himself. It's the same in real-time with me. Now I understand that this may have not went down exactly like this, but after hearing both sides of the story, and listening to my gut, I can picture how it went in some manner. He himself said that he was selfish and thought only of himself. He knew I was his. Deep down he knew. There is no doubt in my mind that he knew what he was doing.

Over the course of this conversation with my mother, I was happy. So was my mother. I could tell that she was glad to finally get it off of her chest. I learned a lot. My life started to actually make sense. Out of everything she said though, not one thing bad was said about him. It was surprising. She had told me for so long that he was an asshole. If he ever wanted to see me, he could have. I asked her about this. She said that it was just easier to tell me that than the truth at the time. She said he was a good guy. He didn't want to settle down yet and she understood. The way she figured it, even if he would've stayed with my mom, it most likely wouldn't have worked out because of conflict with the family. So she didn't take that portion of it too bad. She also said that she wasn't the type to take him for child support. She said that if he didn't want to be in my life, then there was no reason for him to have to pay. My mother decided she could take care of me on her own and she would allow him to leave with no strings attached. After all, the only dated for a year and a half to two years.

She was mostly upset that he never desired to contact me. All those years and he did the exact same thing my mother did. He hid me form everyone. I am so glad that my personality and attitude can take this kind of beating. Getting lied to on one side and being completely hidden on another is rough. Obviously I was an accident and I am totally okay with that. I'm only an accident to my mom and dad. God above intended for this to happen and he has a plan for me. Whatever it is I'll just have to find out. But he gave me the tools to at least get through the rough times like this. And I thank him for that.

I love my mother for everything she has done for me. The lying and secrecy are small things that don't even have an impact on what she has had to go through to raise me. As for my father Scott, I forgive him. Why wouldn't I. He seems to be an extraordinary man. He is a father, only to someone else. His secrets are for a reason as well. He is only trying to protect the ones that he loves. All I want out of all of this is a feeling of purpose. I want to feel wanted by my dad, but I just don't know if that will happen in this lifetime. I can only try. And I will continue to do so until I get either closure or a relationship.

It's been three years since I've met him. All I can do is continue trying. If it is supposed to happen, it will.

7. My Mother

It's easy to say that my mother has always been there for me. If I was in need and she could give a hand, she would. She is like any mother, and would do anything to protect her children. There were a lot of times when I needed her. She was there every time. One of the ways she thought to protect me was to hide my true identity. I believe that she felt that if I knew about my father, then I would seek to know him. I had a curious attitude and she was right. I would have tried to find him. I think she may have thought I would get hurt in the process. A mother’s love is something only mothers can feel. I don’t know what it is like so I don’t really know how to deal with it.

I also believe that there was another reason for not telling me. Keeping secrets isn't easy. And in doing this she had to include some "white lies" that made it even worse. She basically resorted to keeping silent and just not saying anything. "If no one asks, then there was no reason bring it up." This would seem like an easy way out to most, but eventually someone would ask about it. Then what? I would eventually get old enough to figure it out. I think she was just kicking the can down the road for a later date, which is understandable. But, when all this involved keeping it from more than just myself, it turned into something more.

What I mean is, literally, the only people that knew about my real father were the people that were there in the time that I was born. That means that she kept it from her second husband, and even her current husband. I talked in an earlier chapter about the day that I scratched the name from the family tree page in my baby book. I said that when my step dad came in and found out what was going on, he started asking questions as well. This is because my mother never told him. And according to my mother, he still doesn't know to this day. I will explain this later on.

As soon as I figured out that there were others my mother kept my story from, I figured out why it was so hard for her to talk about it when I finally started to question her. From the time I asked her about my dad before I deployed, to about a few weeks ago from writing this, she had no idea that I actually met him. I kept it from her for years because I never knew what to expect as a reaction from her.

One thing that kept me from telling her was I didn't want her to get upset. In my mind, if I told her, the outcome would be one of two things. She would either be very angry or very upset. I figured that she would be very upset because she spent all those years raising me without him. He wanted nothing to do with me, and yet I still wanted to meet him and be friends with him. I thought that maybe she would feel as if I didn't love her or something. She was and still is a hard woman to understand. She is one of those who doesn’t often show their emotions. So she seemed unpredictable. The outcome for this could have gone any direction.

The other way that I had this outcome predicted, was that she would get very angry. I told myself that her reaction could be like the day when she ripped that page from my baby book. She went hysterical then and I thought she may do the same now. My reasoning for this is because maybe she would feel like I betrayed her. He left her to raise me on her own. He just took off.  For her to see that I wanted to know him and that my personality wanted to forgive him and start a fresh relationship, would've devastated her. Also, maybe she wanted to keep me from him in case he ever wondered about me. She would get that satisfaction of his wonder. That was about all she could do to get back at him. And my curiosity took that away from her. After all she went through to raise me just so he could have it his way and live his dreams. She sacrificed everything to make sure I grew up. I would've ruined it all with one simple phone call and maybe that was why she was keeping it from me.

It was something I would think about for about three years before I made the decision to talk to her about it. I thought about him a lot and would talk to him occasionally through texting. Every time we talked wondered what she would think if she knew. I felt a little guilty. But I told myself that I was a grown man, and that I deserved to know. Texting him wasn't a crime. I would eventually tell her and she would just have to understand. I wanted to know my other half and she couldn't keep it from me.

I recently told her about Scott and meeting him. Her reaction... Let's just say that it was a complete shock.

6. Meeting My Real Father

It was in April of 2008. I don't remember which day to be exact. It's funny because after the fact, I swore to myself that I would remember the exact date and time.

My gut had been clenching all day. The night before I was so fixated on what the big meet-up was going to be like, that I barely got any sleep. The plan was that were going to meet in the middle at a restaurant in Oklahoma City around noon. I considered this a covert operation because I did not want my mother to find out what I was doing. I didn't know how she would react to all this. I didn't want to have to deal with the pressure of meeting my real dad while trying to dodge bullets from an hysterical mother. I assumed that most likely she would not have said much about it, but I didn't want to take the risk.

The only people who knew about all this at the time was my girlfriend (now wife), my sister-in-law, and my aunt and uncle. There were some relatives down in Texas that knew about my search, but they didn't know about the meet-up. I told my wife about the entire situation because, well, that's what she was there for; to listen and comfort. My aunt and uncle knew because I was very close to them and was at their house when I got the first response email from Scott, so they knew about him already. It helped to tell a few people about what was going on. It was moral support. Finally, my sister-in-law knew because I asked to use her car, which she was totally fine with. She understood the circumstances. I drove a Dodge Ram 4x4 that got about thirteen miles to the gallon, so I really didn’t want to have to drive that on a six hour round-trip lunch. My wife's car was new and I could've taken it, but it was in serious need of some new tires. And the cash want falling from the tree limbs like they said it would in grade school. So I didn't want to risk a blowout half-way down there. So I asked Ashley if I could borrow her car.

I smoked cigarettes at the time. You should've seen me though that day. Early in the morning I had a cigarette before I showered. Then I got ready. I didn't want to smell of smoke on the big meet. I had already picked up the car the night before so I was good there. I took off at around 8am. It was about a three hour drive there. I wanted to give myself plenty of time to get there. All I had for directions was a print-off from Mapquest, so if there was construction or something then I would be screwed. About half-way into my drive, I stopped at a gas station to get a drink and have a smoke. People probably thought I was crazy. I was standing on the sidewalk by the building, and as I took a puff and blew out, I was walking backwards. I was trying to keep the smoke from getting on my clothes. It was awkward. And it probably did no good. But now it's just a funny memory. And I've quit, by the way. As of writing this, its been two yeas, and twenty-four days.

I got back on the road after I finished my cigarette. I'm sure everyone saw the Kansas license plate as I left and thought "wow, Kansas, no wonder!"

I finally got to Brick Town OKC. I had never been there before. It was the older part of the city, but it was really nice. All the building were brick. Of course though, right. I pulled into a parking lot where you had to pay. I paid, I parked, and  waited a little bit. I was about thirty minutes early. I wasn't complaining. It gave me time to think and scope out the area. The restaurant, called The Bricktown Brewery, was right across from the parking lot, so I did great. I mean Mapquest did great.

I remember I was standing in front of the entrance to the brewery when he showed up. I was so nervous though that I can't exactly remember what he said or how we both reacted. I think we shook hands and then went inside. Once inside, I do remember we were seated right away. It was noon time on a Saturday, and it really wasn't that busy. The waitress gave is a booth. We sat down and talked a little bit. He was wearing a black shirt, and a hat. He's bald on top, so maybe he didn't want me to see what I'm going to look like in the future, ha! I do remember when the waitress asked for drinks, he asked for a Shiner Bock, but they didn't have any (so I know at least one type of beer he likes). But that's the only drink I remember. We both had a few beers, but I 'm not sure what kinds. The nerves took over, I guess.

From the get go, the obvious questions were asked. “Why did you leave?” He gave me his side of the story, or at least what he wanted to share. He said that he was a young stupid man, twenty-five at the time, and was selfish. Then he said that due to the circumstances, he didn’t know if I was even his. I asked what the “circumstances” were and his response was that he and my mother were not together for that long and he didn’t know if she had fooled around with someone else and was lying to him, just saying I was his. So rather than find out the truth, he just decided to leave.  He told me that he thought everything happens for a reason (something he would say a lot in the future). He was sorry for what he did, but he was not sorry for where it got him. By leaving me, he was able to marry his wife, father a son, and reap the benefits of success. It does sound enticing. But I guess my mind works differently. I analyze everything and try to come out with different outcomes in my head for every situation. And in this one, a father could stick around and still do what he wanted. He could still have been in my life and not with my mother. But, he said it like it was. He was selfish.

Most of our conversation was about me. Most of the questions were about me. He didn't seem very open to the idea of talking about himself or his family much. I do remember him giving me a spill about how, yes, basically he had money, but then he went on to say that when you live a higher lifestyle, you're not really better off, your bills are just bigger. I'm thinking "ok, why is he telling me this." First off, it was a slap in the face to lecture me about how he is better off and lives a better life. Now I'm sure he wasn't meaning any of this in a bad way. But it definitely came out wrong because I was thinking "yeah I bet you do live better than me, because you left my mother to raise me on her own, you prick." A single mom with a kid isn't exactly a fast-track path to the higher lifestyle. But I didn't let it get to me. I think he told me that because he thought that maybe I was after money or something and he wanted to clarify right then and there that it wasn't happening. Everyone that knows me would know that's the last thing I would want. If anyone were after anything, it would be my mother. She could've taken him to the bank years ago if she wanted to, but she didn't, because in her mind, why the hell should he have to pay for something that he doesn't want. He didn’t want me, so she gave him what he did want, which was no strings attached.

All I wanted out of this was a friendship. Maybe it would lead to a close relationship. Maybe it would lead to nothing. That's why I was there. I don’t have much to offer. A friendship is about all I can do. Why ask for more from him, than I can give.

While talking, he seemed to be an okay guy. He was very nice. He was also well mannered it seemed, just like everyone had said. We talked about some other things. There was a discussion about my military time, and questions about leaving for Afghanistan. We ate and talked a bit more, mostly about me. I would try to ask a question about him and his family (to hint around) in hopes that he would mention something about his son. But that didn't happen. I got close though. He did open up about how he coaches hockey and travels a lot with the team. But then he went to say that he basically does it for free, since all the money he got paid went to the travel costs. Once again he was lecturing me about money, without me even giving him a reason to. I did tell him several times what I wanted was only a relationship of some sort. Maybe he just wanted to tell me several times as well what he didn’t want.

The waitress had cleaned up our table already, except for the last few beers that we were still polishing off. I tried dinking as slowly as I could so that we would be there longer. I didn’t want to order another one because of the long drive. And we were running out of things to talk about. He sure wasn’t like the guy on the phone (Dwayne) that had millions of questions and was excited to hear about my likes and dislikes. Scott didn’t seem like he wanted to open up a lot.

I had a ton of questions to ask. But when he didn’t seem to want to talk about his life, it kind of silenced me. What was I going to talk about if he didn’t want to talk? And maybe he wasn’t like this on purpose. Maybe he just didn’t know what to say, or maybe he felt bad and didn’t know what to do. I’ll never know exactly how he felt that day.

I drank the last drop of my beer, and we got up. Scott had already paid for my meal, which was nice. I had told him it wasn’t necessary, but he insisted. On our way out there was an ATM machine in the entryway. He asked me if I had money for gas. I told him that I did and that I’d be fine. But he pulled out his wallet and decided to pull out some cash from the machine. He said he’d pay for my gas since I had to drive so far.  I told him no, but again, he insisted. When he finished he handed me thirty bucks as we walked out the door. We started to walk down the sidewalk towards the lot where I parked. When we got there, we stopped. He asked where my car was and I pointed towards a little black Nissan Sentry. I then explained that it wasn’t mine and told him about my truck, the car, and why I borrowed a vehicle. I asked him if he was parked nearby, and said I could give him a ride if it was a few blocks away. He said “no, I parked right over there.” He pointed across the street. If I remember right, he was driving a black H3 Hummer. It had to have been because I said something about the gas mileage. Remember, this was 2008, during some of the peak four dollar gas prices. He just laughed it off and said something.

It was time to part ways. The total time together was probably two hours, if that. In the back of my mind, I was hoping he would say “are you sure you don’t want to walk around and talk some more?” But he didn’t. He told me to have a safe trip home and that he wanted me to keep him posted (something he later says a lot). I went to shake his hand, and instead he gave me a hug. For a few seconds I was being embraced by my real father. My whole life’s wondering and questioning was as close as it was ever going to get. It was a good feeling. And it was totally unexpected. I never saw it coming.

After that I just remember getting in my car. I was excited about the hug. I remember trying to back-track my Mapquest directions to get out of the city. It was on the way home that got to me. I started thinking that he hated me because he wouldn’t open up. I thought I had ruined my shot at getting to know him. I was thinking about all the things I should have said. Most of the trip home had some tears involved. It was emotional. My dad was right there. He bought me lunch. He hugged me. And it was all over, just like that. Would I ever see him again? Did he like me? I think I left with more questions than I had before I met him.

About to the Kansas border, I got a text. It was from Scott. I don’t remember exactly what he said, but it was encouraging. He said something about me growing up, looking good, he wants to keep in touch, and that he thought the meet went well. It was what I needed to hear. It gave me some closure on the day. It also gave me something to look forward to. I gave me hope that this was the start of a friendship.

For the time being, I was satisfied.

5. My Brother

Well it is nice to know that I have a brother. Whether or not he knows that I exist is still beyond me. I don't know if my father has told him yet. I don't know if he ever will come to think of it. I'll tell you what little I know about him.

He is about my build. We are about the same weight and height. He has lighter colored hair though. My hair is dark. He seems to be pretty athletic. He plays hockey, like previously mentioned. He currently plays hockey in college. He's a goalie. I guess he is pretty good. I really don't know that much about hockey other than people get into fights a lot and ride around on ice skates performing triple axles and other various tricks. I'm kidding. It seems like a very tough sport. So maybe he is tough. Hopefully one day I'll get to finally see in person what he is like.

It’s time for one of the most painful parts of this journey. I was looking at a web page with his information on it. It stated his birth date and I started to cry. Yeah, I was in my twenties and crying. I know. But the emotions set themselves up high when I saw his age. He was two and a half years younger than me. that's it. My father left me. My mother said he saw me for the last time when I was a few months old. So that cuts the difference down to two years. Add the nine months in for the pregnancy, and it equals out to be about a few months over a year. Fifteen moths is my guess. I know a lot can happen in fifteen months. But come on. You leave your child because you’re not ready, and then all of the sudden fifteen months later, you have a change of heart. You decide that you’re going to keep this one that's coming. That was the biggest blow to my chest.

You have to wonder what was going through my father's mind when this was occurring. I know deep in my mind that he had to of been thinking about me at one point or another, especially during the pregnancy.

His name is Garrett. He's a single child. Well that's what he has grown up to realize anyway. One day he may know the truth. I hope that day is soon.

I added him on my Facebook shortly after I met my dad. I didn't know whether I should. I kept thinking about what he would say to me. Would he ask me who I am? After a while of thinking I decided I would go ahead and add him. If he said something I just wouldn't respond. I clicked add. It's been three years or so and he still has never said nothing to me. I am not a Facebook stalker by any means. I just like to go to his page from time to time to get a feel of what he is into, and what he does. Okay, so I guess that meets the criteria for stalking. But I do it meaning no harm. It's not like I get on there every day. I bet he sees a post of mine from here and there, yet he has no idea that's his big brother posting away.

One day I would like to meet him. It would be nice to go fishing and just talk about growing up. I would like to get to know him on a personal basis. But just like dreaming of a family taking me in with open arms, this too is probably a far-fetched dream that won't ever happen. I'm sure that if we ever meet, it will be short and sweet. We are probably two total opposites and have nothing in common. But on the other hand, maybe something will actually go my way for once. Maybe we will click and start a good friendship. Time will tell.

4. My Real Father

I remember when my mother first showed me a photo of him online. He looked good. After studying the picture for a while I could start to see a little bit here and there of how he could be me. I was skeptical at first, and you read my story you would know why. My mother had a tendency of keeping things from me. She assumed it was for my own good. But I think it was more about hiding her past than it was for protecting me.

You'd be surprised what Google can do these days. You can find out a lot about a person once you know who they are by name. Once I had the three Scotts down to one, I began to dig. I wanted to know what he was like before I contacted him. Was he a nice guy? Was he a family man? Or did he leave because he hated kids? These questions among hundreds of others were on my mind. As I began to uncover and read about him, things about him started to come up that upset me. There were also things that made me angry.

The first thing I read about was that he had owned a business. Had as in past. He sold it a few years prior. I was a large limousine company. It was located in the Dallas area. He was very successful. That was one of the many questions that I had. Was he some poor inconsiderate man who left everything behind only to find himself lost? Or could he be rich beyond your wildest dreams? Both turned out to not be the case, but he was successful. He also owned a few magazines that were all family oriented it seemed. He seemed to be doing well.

 I will admit that it was kind of hard at first to see this. My mom had to spend her life raising me at the expense of a man that was selfish and wanted to skip fatherhood to reach his goals. He wanted to please himself. That is what it seemed like to me when putting the pieces together. Although the thought of money did cross my mind, I wasn't making this journey about money. Yeah I thought sometimes to myself that "oh maybe he will want to help me out with school or with life since he is loaded." Those childish ideas did come to mind. But my true self took over. I am NOT the type of person to ask someone for a handout. I wasn't raised that way. I was brought up to work for what I want. Those thoughts were simply the same as thinking of winning the lottery. Besides, it wasn't money that he owed me, it was time. All I wanted was time to get to know him and for him to get to know me.

My intentions of meeting this man were to learn. I was hoping at the most that he would accept me. I read so many stories about people who reunited with their lost families. And I tried to only read the good stuff. I was hoping for a Reunion like the ones I read about, where the families are of total acceptance and would bring me in with arms wide open. If you’re reading this and are thinking of looking for your real families, please do not set your standards this high. It will only get you hurt. It hurt me all the plenty. I wanted what most would call a fairy tale. He obviously left for a reason, and I don't think it was to jump right back into my life twenty two years later. No sir.

I started reading about his family. This is when I found out about his wife and son. I got excited. I don't know why, but it was kind of cool to know that I had a long lost brother out there. I had always wanted a brother. I grew up with a younger and older sister and that was rough. It would have been nice to have a brother to beat up on. Someone I could have competed with. It would have had a profound impact on my childhood. But I can't drown myself in what could have happened. That's a road to nowhere. I can't change time. Knowing about my brother has ended up being the most exciting thing and the most painful thing I've had to learn about since venturing off into my journey.

My father seemed to be quite the family man. Every single article I read about him was about family and how important it is to stay together and so on. This was encouraging. Maybe he was very nice and our encounter would be easy going. Maybe he would be apologetic rather than in denial. It was hope.

He was also a "little league," so to speak, hockey coach. He coached his son as well as others. After reading this I knew he had to be a tolerant man that was good with kids. Who would do this that had no patience with kids. I read in an article that while he was living in upstate New York, he himself played hockey. So it fit with how and why he was into the sport. It's just a weird thing to be into in the southern states and before reading about his past, it was a little hard to understand. Not the fact that he was coaching, but why. I checked out a schedule for one of the teams and they seemed to travel a lot. I thought that he must have really loved doing it to want to travel that much.

I finally started to get a clear picture of what my dad was like. He was this genuine man, that obviously was very family oriented and that loved kids. The question seemed to be, if he was such a great guy, then why would he just up and leave his kid. It was something that I had to find out. I had to know what happened when I was born and what his side of the story was. I learned a long time ago that you never trust just one side. You always need to know both sides of the story before you can be completely comfortable with the answer.

Maybe I was the reason he was such a great guy. Maybe he felt so bad that he decided to make up for it by helping others. I don't know exactly what he was thinking, but meeting him was the next step.

3. The First Email

In 2008, I was in the service and got word that I would be leaving for Afghanistan. This got me really thinking about my life. I wanted to know who I was as well as who my other half was. I considered this a natural feeling. I'm sure that most people that don't know their parents go through this at some point. I decided it was time to go out and find him. I was going to figure out just who my dad was.

I got the guts to do some research. I asked a lot of question to some family down south in Texas. Some that I asked didn't have any answers. But some of them knew quite a bit. When I started to ask them they felt a little sad that all this time went by and I never knew. They had thought that I had always known. They assumed that I just never cared to know. It wasn't something they were just going to bring up at a family reunion or something. They told me all that they could.

Scott was a good looking man. He was very well mannered it seemed. "He came from money", is what my relatives said. His parents had money and they wanted more for their son than what my mother could offer. They were from New York. That was about the extent of their knowledge. One of my relatives said she remembered him going to dinner with my mother, grandmother and a few others I believe, while my mom was pregnant with me. But she couldn't remember much of that particular event. All of my relatives were glad that I was looking to meet him and encouraged me to. They said I had every right to know. They also said that it was wrong for my mother to hold it back from me.

I had a friend in the service, who knew a thing or two about finding people, look my dad up. He gave me info on about seven guys with the same name from all over the U.S. He narrowed it down to a few. There were names in New York, and names in Fort Worth, and Houston. It was down to three. I had no clue if at the time he just lived in the Dallas area for school or what. His family was from New York and there was a Scott there that was on my list. All I could do was guess and give it a shot. Or I could ask my mother, which was like asking for a slap in the face.

Over the span of a few weeks, I decided that I needed to talk to my mother. I was deploying and I had to know. I went to my parent's house one afternoon and asked her outright. She started laughing and giggling like she was embarrassed. Kind of like a kid that is laughing when they know that they did something wrong. That was fine with me. As long as she wasn't yelling at me or screaming then I was good. She decided to tell me as little as she could about him. She said that Scott really was his name and that he was worthless. If he wanted to see me then he would have. She said he knew where I was and if he cared then he would have been around. She then got online and went straight to a website where there was a picture of him. It was almost as if she had recently looked him up, like she still thought about him. She showed me the picture. There he was right there. So close that I could touch him on the screen, yet so far away.

To tell you the truth, I still had a doubt in my mind. What if she was lying and just said that he was the Scott out of the three, just to get me to shut up. She had lied about everything else so far so why not this. But she had gone to the site so quickly that it had to be him. It was a question I would find the answer to once I contacted him. Afterwards she told me that there was no point on knowing who he was because he obviously didn't care about me. In the back of my mind I thought. Well, what if he tried to get in touch with me but we moved out of state and then my last name changed. Then he wouldn't have known. I had to find out.

After that conversation, and a few days later, I decided to look up some people in the DFW area phonebook. I found a list of people with the same last name. I called. I wanted to see if people knew him before I actually called him. I called around and if they answered, I told them that I was looking for Scott, hoping they didn't ask why. When they did ask why I told them I was looking for my father. Most of these people thought I was crazy. I had some old man tell me that his son Scott didn't have any estranged son and that I was a maniac. Then he hung up. Sadly, I think that this man was my would-be grandfather. I think I had unknowingly called him and when he said "my son Scott" I put two and two together.

I had a few people hang up on me. But one guy, he stayed on the phone with me. This guy was so interested in my story, I thought that maybe he was my dad and he was pretending not to be. His name was Dwayne. He had said that he was from upstate New York and had moved to Dallas years ago. When he said that, I thought that there was a connection. But no such luck. He said that he too had never met his father. So he didn't know his dad's side of the family. I thought that maybe he was just telling me this so that he didn't have to get involved. I thought maybe he was a cousin or something, but just didn't want to say it. He went on for about two hours asking me question. I mean deep questions. He wanted to know how growing up was, what sports I played, what my favorite teams were. He wanted to know everything. I was to the point where I almost wished he was my dad. For a moment I became important. Someone wanted to know about my life. But sadly, we had to end the conversation, and part our ways. He told me that he hoped for the best and that he knew that I would find my dad. He wanted it to go well.

He was the last person I had called before I contacted my dad. He gave me the encouragement I needed. I think that same day I decided it was time to get a hold of Scott. I'm not going to lie. I was too scared to call. I especially didn't want him to freak out. So I emailed him. I asked him if he remembered my mother. I told him a little bit about myself and that I was leaving for the war. And I said that I wanted to meet him if he was interested.

I waited...

A few days later, I got a response. He emailed me back! I remember the first thing he said. "I always wondered if this day would come." I was in panic mode. I was running all over the place freaking out about what he might say next. He said he was sorry about how our story has played out. He thought that everything happens for a reason. What he was really implying was that he was sorry that he just took off. He then said in a later email that he was would call me.

In the meantime, while waiting for his call, I looked him up again and researched his family a little bit. I found out that he had another son. After he left me and my mother, he got together with a woman who later became his wife. His son is two and a half years younger than me. I think that is what bothered me the most. Simply because of my mother’s economic status, this guy leaves a son behind. But then shortly after (year and a half) he conceives another son, this time to stay. I'm not ashamed of where I am today. It’s just that knowing someone could give up a child and take on another just like that, is hurtful. I feel like I'm this object that nobody wants. And when you hear things coming from a man on the phone who you think may really be your grandfather, then it really amplifies it all.

He called. We talked for about five minutes. Before he called, I was thinking about all I wanted to say. I wanted to tell him about growing up, and my dreams and aspirations. I was thinking he would be like Dwayne and want to know everything right down to the very detail. I was wrong. The five minute conversation didn't amount to much. He asked me how I was, how my mother was, he gave me the spill again about how everything happens for a reason, and then he said he had to go, but he would keep in touch and get with me by email to discuss meeting up.

After years and years I wanting to know, he made me feel like I was taking up his time. And when I think about it, I wonder if some of those people that I called really did know him. And I wonder if they got in touch with him and questioned him. This made me wonder if that was the only reason he responded to me in the first place. Was I stirring up the pot by calling those people? Was I a skeleton in the closet that found the key and was now trying to open the door? Was he responding so I wouldn't call anyone else? It could really be the reason. And to this day I still wonder.

He said that his wife had encouraged him to respond to me. But I don't know what to believe. I've been lied to my whole life, so it’s hard to say. Maybe she did.

In the end, he called me and that is what matters. I couldn't be too demanding. After all, it was me looking for him, not the other way around. So I had to take it slow and not let him shut his doors on me. I had to ease my way in to get to know him better and not scare him away.

2. Finding Out His Name

I was around seven years old when I began to ask question about my real father. My mother had divorced her second husband Jim (the first person I called Dad) and we had moved in with a new man, who would later become my stepfather till this day.

It was then when I realized that dads were not permanent. They could leave, and new ones could replace them. And I knew that my dad wasn't always my dad. So This is when I started to ask questions. I asked my mom who my real dad was. She had told me that me and my sister had the same dad and that he was gone. He lived in England. She was referring to her first husband. I remember when I looked at my birth certificate and it said the dad was her second husband. This is when I got confused. My mother said my dad was one man, but the certificate said it was another. But I left it alone.

It wasn't until I was fourteen that things really got weird. And I mean weird. I was bored at home one day (we lived in the country and during the summers it could get very boring for a kid) and I was sitting in my room organizing a shelf that had all my books on it. I grabbed my baby book (everyone has one of these from when they were born). I was flipping through the pages looking at my pictures and seeing random things like hair from my first haircut. I turned the page and saw a family tree. It had my name at the top, and then the mother's side and the father's side right under it. My mother had put her name and all of the close family on her side. Nearly every line was full.

The father's side was a different story. The line for the father had been covered in white-out. Over it was my dad's name Jim (her second husband). I remembered back to when she said who my dad was and thought to myself "what if I scratched the white-out off?" So curiosity took over. I took a paper clip. I bent it straight and began lightly scratching off the white out. It slowly-but-surely came off and I could see the ink underneath it spelling out a name.

The first letter of the first name showed. And to my surprise, it was not a letter I was expecting to see. I remember I was so excited (not in a good way) that I threw the book down, ran to door of my room. I opened it and ran out looking for my mom. I yelled for her throughout the house until I found her. She was in her room taking a nap. I think she had a migraine that day. I said nothing. I just ran back to my room. The purpose was to know where she was so she would not catch me in the act of scratching. I knew something was up now, and I had to get to the bottom of it.

I began scratching some more and letter after letter began to uncover. When I was finished, it was a name I had never heard or seen. Scott was the first name. Her first husbands name was Hugh, and her second was Jim. So something wasn't adding up here. I'd never even heard of this guy. My emotions were running high. I was crying, and I felt like I was having a panic attack or something. My heart was beating to where I could feel it pulsate throughout my body. It was time to get some explaining. I had turned my emotions to anger.

I opened my bedroom door and screamed for my mother. She finally came into my room to see what was going on. I broke down in tears and demanded an explanation for what I was seeing in my baby book. I was screaming at the top of my lungs. She started yelling back at me as if I did something wrong. I guess uncovering her past was wrong. She told me that the name was no one, and that my dad was still who she said he was. She had supposedly written this other name in there on accident or something.

My step dad Chris walked in the house and heard the yelling and screaming. He came to my room. Once I saw him I started screaming to him asking if he knew who this guy was in my baby book. Apparently my mom never told him either because he started to question my mother as well. Then all hell broke loose. My mom went hysterical for the moment, grabbed my baby book, and ripped out the family tree. She ripped it in several pieces and went out of the room. My stepdad and I followed her. She told me to get to my room. I did. Then after some commotion from my parents arguing, she came back in blaming me. She was accusing me, at fourteen, of trying to ruin her marriage with Chris. She yelled at me for causing them to fight. It was suddenly all my fault. I'm already emotional for finding out my dad is a different person, and then to top it off I'm getting this thrown at me. What a great way to build the self-esteem in a young man. Then weight of the world was on my shoulders that evening. The real reason for the blame was simply because my mom got caught in a lie. She had never even told Chris about her past. She had kept it a secret from everyone but the few people that were involved. Those people will come out at a later date.

My mother threw that page away. But I had memorized every letter of that name. So throwing it away just got rid of the physical proof. I had it in me. I knew that someday when I had the tools, resources, and enough freedom to do it, I was going to find out who my real dad was.