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.
No comments:
Post a Comment