Today is my dad’s birthday. He would have been 85 but his life got cut short at 45. He was 44 when he was handed a prognosis of 12 months to live. I can’t even imagine what he was feeling or thinking. He was barely 7 years older than I am. How wild is that? When I was young, of course he felt old and like it was a long life. Now , I feel like that was barely enough time for most.
He passed away a month before I was born and I spent a childhood of traumas due to an emotionally unavailable parent that was, I can only assume, traumatized by his loss, depressed, and trying to find healing at the bottom of a bottle and other people. The revolving door of men, the constant moving, having a full-time adult role as a child, taking care of a victim-minded pathologial liar, with no roots or family. It was tough. At time I remember finding comfort in a dream of a home with my dad.
For a long long time, In my head, I believed deeply that if he were alive, my whole life would have been different. Maybe not fair to put that much weight on a man I never met but let me tell you, in my head – I was daddys girl with a protective dad who wouldn’t have stood for half the shit that went down. I’d have a father daughter dance once day and a grandfather for my kid. Then reality hit me like, hard. I don’t know anything about this person. My life could have been worse.
About 10 years ago, after a very long time of researching, I found where he was buried. I went to visit him and to my surprise he didn’t even have a tombstone or plaque. The reason they couldn’t find him was because he didn’t have any markings and the grounds had been repurchased multiple times his paperwork was handwritten in an old storage they said. I couldn’t understand why it was so damn hard to find a body that can’t get up and move. Until the day I showed up and the guy took me to a plot, at the very end of their grounds and a small electrical flag that marked him. SO MANY QUESTIONS.
No one had visited him in 20+ years, no one marked his grave, no one has called about his location. Nothing. I know his best friend, he had no answers for me. My remaining parent of course only said she never had the funds to mark it, the funeral took all she had financially. She was super pregnant and alone. So I understood that. What about everyone else? What about his own planning?
This man who I dreamed of as my rescuer from all evil left nothing. He made it almost to the day of his year prognosis, I have 7 siblings from his side that I don’t know anything about names included, he owned a business at one point and other side hustles.
How was nothing left? Forget the money, why didn’t he even write me a damn letter?
He knew I was coming, he knew I was going to be there soon and even if he made it to my birth, he knew he wouldn’t be around for long. So why the hell didn’t he leave me a single thing? A letter, a video, a photo, fuck.. anything! Did he not want me? Hell, did SHE want me or did she just want me because it was a way to keep a piece of him? I have so many questions, every year that passes I have more. The older my son gets, more questions arise because I cannot imagine being told I was leaving this planet and I wouldn’t even leave him a note at the very least.
I have 1 thing that was his and it’s not even something left for me, just something I took from my mom. A leather suitcase. (Go figure lol) Besides that throughout the years i’ve gathered things like his medical documents, death certificate, native license, his Mason certificate, and 3 pictures. I searched with the Mason brotherhood and no one got back to me with any information. It’s dead end after dead end. I did Ancestory to try to find my paternal family, literally anyone, and no one that I matched with knew who he was. No one looked like him or me. One person had a theory that seems the most likely but even that, we have no proof. This person would have been my grandfathers nephew, if his theory is right.
The three people that I know that knew him all have amazing things to say about him but yet, they never visited him? They know nothing about him or his kids? They don’t have photos of him? The stories I hear range from he a drug lord to a CIA agent… I mean wtf. It’s all madness.
So here I am with one unemotionally available parent whom I barenly have a relationship with and a dead parent who I know just under nothing about except word of mouth. Yet, every birthday and death anniversary I feel it deep.
I feel sadness – I miss someone I never met. It’s like a piece missing in my heart.
I feel anger – ohhh I feel so much anger. Towards my remaining parent mostly but truthfully with him too. Though I feel awful for being angry with a deceased person so I try to avoid that.
Then, more sadness because again the one consistent pattern shown with actions by both is clear – I wasn’t wanted.
I am grateful I was born, it took me a while to get here but I am grateful to have been birthed and for this life. I am grateful for the opportnity to heal more and more each day. The ups and downs remind me i’m alive and i’m grateful I pushed through some of my darkest days where I really didn’t think I would see another day. I’m grateful to be in a place in my life where even with the clouds that follow me, I still feel my heart beating full of love for those I do have. Even if I don’t fully know yet how to feel loved back by them, I feel the closest thing to it each day they choose to remain in my life. To you – Thank you.
Alright well, to wrap today’s mess of emotions – Happy heavenly Birthday, Dad. Here is to another day of questions and emotions.
Sending you all so much love,
-K
P.s. Go hug someone you love. No words needed because actions speak louder than words. Especially to those of us who maybe struggle a little differently.
Journey 2 Zendipity 