Something

I’ve been thinking and wondering if I might be “ready” to send a letter to my father.  I use quotations around “ready” because, well, what the hell does it mean to be ready to do something like this?  I know when I’m ready to go to bed or ready to go to the library or ready to tear my hair out, but I don’t really know the sensation that is “ready to try to introduce myself to my biological father”.  Is there a tingling somewhere I should be looking for?  Or maybe I’d see some sign in the sky?  Yeah, probably not.  So, after sitting on the idea for… a year?  or maybe two?  I feel like, fine.  Let’s just do it.

I guess I have to write something.  And then probably proof read it 70 times or so.  And then stick it in the envelope, write what is hopefully his address on it, smack a stamp on and send it on its good way.  

And then just wait for some irrevocable change to come about.  Possibly some calamity and misadventures will ensue.

But I have to do that first part first. Which isn’t any sort extraordinary feat nor does it  require any special skills.  Just horrible, boring patience.  And acceptance of the terrible reality of possibly being rejected by someone who is important for no reason other than blood and DNA.  

Seriously though, my life is sort of shitty right now.   What’s one more thing?  It can’t possibly be that bad of an idea, right? (Famous last words.)

Day 55

Dear Dad,

Do you think there’s ever been someone who didn’t know about a child but just knew they were missing one?  What?

Bye.

Day 54

Dear Dad,

I am incredibly interested in people: what they do, why they do it, who they do it with or to. Patterns emerge; charts can be made; people are more or less predictable. So interesting.

But I think that’s also why I want to know more about people e found their bio dad or mom. Maybe I should actually look that up. But I’m afraid the only stories I’ll find will be the remarkable ones; the ones deemed worthy of written recognition.

I wonder what the “normal” response for either one of us is? I know it doesn’t matter– normal– but I still wonder.

Bye.
AM

Day 52

Hey Dad,

I was thinking today, “Hey, why not do a Lent-type thing in addition to my irrevocable vow to blog everyday?”  So I think I will.  And I think it’s going to be something lame, like a prayer every day.  Although I did toy with the idea of giving up blogging for 40 days…

Yeah, I know:  not super creative or new, but whatever.  Why fix what ain’t broke?

So, what will I write a prayer about every day?  Probably different junk; but I want to try to focus on my familial relationships– you, my mom, my family, perhaps even my in-laws; my relationship with God.  I don’t know what I hope to gain out of this, but I’ve probably never intentionally prayed every day for more than a few days in a row.  I hate praying sometimes and think I suck at it.

Here’s hoping it doesn’t suck too bad!

AM

Day 38

Dear Dad,

I don’t know why I didn’t just make a blog where I write about my life.  Well, I mean, I guess I did that on accident, ’cause this blog is basically me writing about my life.  I just pretend to write you a letter while I do it.  Is that like lying?

On nights like tonight, when Zoe screams for approximately the entire 2 hours she’s awake between her “nap” and bedtime, I wonder if you and I don’t have a better chance than most parent/child relationships.  I say that because tonight I dumped water on Zoe’s head as she was screeching that she did not want her hair to get wet (she was in the tub); which made her howl even louder and made me wonder what kind of parent I am.  And, more importantly, what kind of wounds I’m already inflicting on her.

But you!  You weren’t around to scar me.   You weren’t around to dump a glass of water on my head when I threw a tantrum (I was not in the tub).  You didn’t slam my fingers in the door not once but twice and leave a scar on my fingers (it was an accident, really).  You weren’t there for all the extremely painful pubescent moments from age 12 on.  We have a clean slate, you and I.

I have hope for meeting you yet.

AM

Day 36

Dear Dad,

Meet Zoe Feodora.  This is her a month or two ago, wearing a crazy outfit, with her eyes closed, paci inserted, mid-twirl and dance.

She is almost 2.5 and very full of life (which is what “Zoe” means).  She is incredibly passionate, caring, sweet and funny.

She likes to just sit and read, to dance and run, to give kisses, and ask a lot of questions.

She loves cookies, french fries, grapes, and apple juice.  She eats oatmeal almost every morning for breakfast and has since she was just 6 or so months old.

She loves baths, kitties, walking and running.

She likes to help around the house:  doing dishes, sweeping, cleaning up spills.

I wonder if I was like her when I was little?  I wonder if I really had a chance to be.

Maybe you’ll get to meet her one day,

AM

Day 35

Dear Dad,

This is Lazarus, Zoe, and me without my head during Christmas this past year. I love my kids, my babies so much. They are so funny and sweet and absolutely perfect.

But I often wonder what life would be like if we had all met at a different time in my life. If Joe and I had “planned” to get pregnant versus our current “oops-a-daisy” philosophy of conception. How would I be different if we had waited? How will my kids’ lives be different because I was in the place that I was when I had them?

I feel like we, you and I, are in this interesting place, right? Like what if we had met when I was first born? Maybe you would’ve sucked. Maybe now– you’re older, have kids and a wife, presumably a job, maybe even a house– you’re in the right place to have me.

But maybe it’ll never be and would never have been the right time, the right you. Maybe there’d never have been a right me for my kids.

But then I think of all that “you’re the perfect mom/dad for your kids” stuff you hear (has anyone else heard that? And it’s almost always “mom” and not “dad.”). How the hell does that play into all of this? Sometimes one is a sucky parent who is emphatically not the perfect parent for one’s child. That does happen, doesn’t it? So maybe you suck; or maybe I really suck. (I don’t. I’m a good parent, really.)

Man, maybe you really, really, truly do suck. Maybe you are a giant asshole who I’ve been fortunate enough to avoid. Maybe you belong to a cult. Or are just a creep. What kind of pain am I willing to put myself through in trying to figure out who my father is?

Bye,
AM

Day 31

Well Dad,

I’m too tired for this right now. I don’t have the emotional energy or motivation to even care about you. Everything seems like a lot, and you are, frankly, still a nothing in my life.

Today, I just don’t care to care.
AM

Day 30

Dear Dad,

I’m sort of running dry on topics tonight.  I’ll tell you something that might surprise you (or not):  I really like Sci-fi stuff.  I grew up watching Star Trek: TNG and always pretended to be LeVar Burton’s character by putting a headband over my eyes.

I sometimes think that I don’t like Sci-fi, but I totally do.  I like Alien/s; I like Terminator; I like anything having to do with time travel and/or the space time continuum.

I just do!

AM

Day 27

Dear Dad,

I’m feeling a lot better but still not quite at full force.  It was really hard being sick and having the kids to take care of; they really don’t get it when mommy is not feeling well.  And, unfortunately, if you try to stick them in bed all day, they get pretty pissed about that kinda thing too.

But I made it.  Probably by the grace of God.  I prayed a lot when I was sick.  For healing.  For strength.  To say that I felt like Job (which of course is always an exaggeration… but I really connect to Job’s story in the Bible) and hated God for letting me get sick.  I also kept thinking of times when I would get sick, and not even as sick I was this past week, and all I had to worry about was school and work.  Ah, those were the days.  Those were still stressful times.  And now these are also stressful times.  Go figure.

Luckily, Lazarus is really cute, and Zoe’s quite helpful.  She would often give me things that I “needed” with a “Oh, here you go, Sweetheart.”  That sweetness probably melted the infection right out of me.

But, right now, everything is chaos and feels like I’ve lost the past 2 weeks to illness (first L’s and then my own).  And we’re hoping that no one else gets sick.  Because if Joe gets sick, well, that becomes a financial issue.  Which always causes stress.

Oh, my kidney is hurting I am so stressed out just thinking of Joe getting sick.  Or maybe it’s the massive amounts of Tylenol and cough syrup I’ve taken in the last 4 days?  I’ll never know for sure…

 

Maybe something that makes sense awaits you tomorrow?  (But I wouldn’t hold my breath.)

AM