zippity
I posted this as a response to a question in a community I'm in, and decided after I'd finished I wanted to post it here, mainly because it's something I never really talked about with anyone, I hadn't poured much thought into until I was asked. Note: Some of the info near the beginning may be off/incorrect as my memory is poor, which makes me figure my mom's and brother's is too. Also, some stuff was added that wasn't in the original comment.
My biological father was arrested around the time I turned 2, for breaking into a doctor's office to steal drugs, and was sent to prison for a long time. My mother married my stepdad when I was 3 or 4. Shortly after that my grandma on my father's side stopped coming around (which broke my little heart)We never got word of when he was released.
I always had this nagging feeling he was gonna show up or kidnap me or something. I would occasionally ask my mom and older brother about him, and they both either avoided the question or give me enough information to satiate me for a time. Mom didn't have any pictures of him (or so she said)
I never felt resentful because I never felt that my family unit wasn't whole.
I discovered that my bio-dad had died from my mom about a few years ago, and when she said his name I thought it was a different person. (friend of the fam with the same name.) He had died of kidney/liver failure. (an anti-abortion protester knew about, because she was at u of l when a family member who was trying to contact me to inform me my bio-dad had died was there getting info. They had seen my name in the The Louisville Cardinal from when I worked there. U of L is bad about personal information. This was probably a bigger decision to stop escorting for awhile then almost getting kidnapped and having to stab some guy on the way to clinic)
I decided to go to his visitation at the funeral home, which hurt my stepdad quite a bit. I tried to explain to him that I needed the closure, to know that this mystery person was never going to be part of my life. I dragged some friends with me, and because I was nervous about the type of people we may be encountering, they shaved their legs because all they had were black knee skirts. In retrospect, it seems so dumb to make such a silly request, but they fulfilled it, and I hope they know how much I appreciate it.
Also, a few people I am not good friends with (not because I don't like/aren't friends with, but because distance sets in) came too, and I appreciate that as well.
It was a strange experience. I was recognised within seconds of walking in by his widow, a tan, blackhaird woman in a leopard print dress. I aparently look a lot like him, which disturbed me because I thought I looked like my mom. I saw grandma and started bawling. I had missed her more than I thought.
They asked me if I wanted to see him. (The casket had been closed because his body was shipped from florida)and I did. That was probably the weirdest part. Yes, he did look like me (redhair squishface), just male, and dead. I don't recall feeling any emotion. I just stared for a few minutes and told the director I was done. I can't even recall the image clearly. The worst part was probably having lot of people/family I don't know wanting to talk to me, especially the widow. She mentioned to me that they both (Her and bio-dad) had wanted to try and contact me but wanted to wait till I was eighteen. I was 19 at the time. I was pissed off for a brief moment, but decided to remain polite. I suppose it was somewhat comforting to know he thought of/remembered me, because I had always wondered why he never wrote or called, especially when we still had contact with his family. I also resent not knowing I shared a birthday with my bio-dad, but I took that up with mom.
My biological father was arrested around the time I turned 2, for breaking into a doctor's office to steal drugs, and was sent to prison for a long time. My mother married my stepdad when I was 3 or 4. Shortly after that my grandma on my father's side stopped coming around (which broke my little heart)We never got word of when he was released.
I always had this nagging feeling he was gonna show up or kidnap me or something. I would occasionally ask my mom and older brother about him, and they both either avoided the question or give me enough information to satiate me for a time. Mom didn't have any pictures of him (or so she said)
I never felt resentful because I never felt that my family unit wasn't whole.
I discovered that my bio-dad had died from my mom about a few years ago, and when she said his name I thought it was a different person. (friend of the fam with the same name.) He had died of kidney/liver failure. (an anti-abortion protester knew about, because she was at u of l when a family member who was trying to contact me to inform me my bio-dad had died was there getting info. They had seen my name in the The Louisville Cardinal from when I worked there. U of L is bad about personal information. This was probably a bigger decision to stop escorting for awhile then almost getting kidnapped and having to stab some guy on the way to clinic)
I decided to go to his visitation at the funeral home, which hurt my stepdad quite a bit. I tried to explain to him that I needed the closure, to know that this mystery person was never going to be part of my life. I dragged some friends with me, and because I was nervous about the type of people we may be encountering, they shaved their legs because all they had were black knee skirts. In retrospect, it seems so dumb to make such a silly request, but they fulfilled it, and I hope they know how much I appreciate it.
Also, a few people I am not good friends with (not because I don't like/aren't friends with, but because distance sets in) came too, and I appreciate that as well.
It was a strange experience. I was recognised within seconds of walking in by his widow, a tan, blackhaird woman in a leopard print dress. I aparently look a lot like him, which disturbed me because I thought I looked like my mom. I saw grandma and started bawling. I had missed her more than I thought.
They asked me if I wanted to see him. (The casket had been closed because his body was shipped from florida)and I did. That was probably the weirdest part. Yes, he did look like me (redhair squishface), just male, and dead. I don't recall feeling any emotion. I just stared for a few minutes and told the director I was done. I can't even recall the image clearly. The worst part was probably having lot of people/family I don't know wanting to talk to me, especially the widow. She mentioned to me that they both (Her and bio-dad) had wanted to try and contact me but wanted to wait till I was eighteen. I was 19 at the time. I was pissed off for a brief moment, but decided to remain polite. I suppose it was somewhat comforting to know he thought of/remembered me, because I had always wondered why he never wrote or called, especially when we still had contact with his family. I also resent not knowing I shared a birthday with my bio-dad, but I took that up with mom.