I know my blogs haven’t really offered up much in the way of entertainment recently, if I blog at all. But trust me, I’m going to get back into my blogging groove soon. Just feel like I’m blogging to my three followers. Not that you three aren’t important, but I just thrive off an audience, which, of course, I lack at the moment.
But, before I get into those blogs, I must get this one off my chest. It’s probably the most personal one I’ve had, so hopefully you can appreciate it for what it is and find some type of enjoyment out of it……
I met my real father today. It was strange. I never thought the day would ever happen, and never really thought about it. Before today, I honestly didn’t care if I ever met the man. I didn’t know a thing about him, and I never thought to ask. I just knew that I was here, and that I was awesome. That’s all I really ever needed to know. I mean, I had my mom. She was a great single mother. She gave me all that I needed. She raised me to be awesome.
When I was younger, there was another man around. After my mom broke up with him, he was still around off and on and still is to this day. He treated me like his son, but never called me it. And I never really called him “dad”. I never thought into it (which seems to be a reoccurring theme to my life). Just thought that’s how it was. He’d hang out with me, and never once did I question his role in my life. That is, until I was in 10th grade when he dropped the “I met you when you were 2” bomb on my lap. When I questioned my mom about it, you can physically see her brain seize up. She sat there with a “deer in the headlights” look. She was caught completely off guard. At that moment, I knew a door was opened that she hoped never was. And she tried to brush it off as “oh he’s just playing with you” type of banter. But I could see through that. But I didn’t care to push any farther. It really didn’t matter to me that much to.
For the next decade or so, we’d joke about it. Mention it in passing with no real conversation attached to it. And when people asked me about my nationality, I just said “I don’t know”. I never met my father to really give that answer straight. It perplexed some on why I didn’t give a shit. Because, in reality, it doesn’t change who I am, and how I was brought up. So, I didn’t have the urgency to investigate.
That all, of course, changed this past Wednesday morning. I get an unusually early call from my mom at 630am. She goes on to tell me that someone wants to meet me when I come up this Sunday. I blow it off thinking she meant the man that has been in my life on and off forever. But then as I was driving to work, the details of the call were finally setting in…..did she really just say? No…..she couldn’t have. Could she? This thought was confirmed when she said it again Friday. Yup, she said it. My father wanted to meet me Sunday. I honestly didn’t feel a thing when she said it. It was out of the blue. Unexpected. Wasn’t prepared for it, but then again, never thought about it either to need to be prepared.
So, Sunday rolls around. I’m still not nervous about this whole ordeal. I guess a part of me was thinking it still wasn’t going to happen. I mean, it’s been so long. Why would he want to see me? What can us meeting offer either of us? But either way….the moment of truth was upon me. He arrived at my moms house. I was still sitting. Still, not nervous. Couldn’t really understand why. I mean, this has to be life-altering, right? The first glimpse of my existence was when I was conjured up in this mans nutsack being ready for deployment. This was the core creator of awesomeness. But, I was still kind of chilling as if he were an old friend of my mom, and nothing more.
In he walks. Tall, thin, and older gentleman. Looked like he’s been a few years deep into retirement. I was told when I was younger that my father could have been Cape Verdian, and seeing that every CV I knew looked black, I kind of expected it. It’s like, yeah, I HEARD he was, but actually confirming it was definitely crazy in a way. But I saw some similar features as I examined him for closure. Eyebrows? Yeah. Nose? No. Head shape? DEFINITELY! This was him. The man who helped bring me to life. Sitting no more than 5 feet from me. It started to seep in. Yeah, this was real.
Of course, I don’t speak much. I never do. But then again, he didn’t seem like a man of many words either. He was polite, and seemed like a really nice guy. His current wife did most of the talking. But from what I gathered in the hour we spent together, I have many similar personality traits. He seemed to rather watch things develop from afar without interference. The whole time, the father I never knew was living less than 12 miles from me. I probably passed him a dozen times on the streets. He disliked phones and rather use the computer such as myself. He was in the military and automotive industry like me. He didn’t give a shit about the little things that didn’t really matter as well. I can see a pattern of personality similarities. I don’t know if they are real, or I was just digging for some type of connection. That, I guess, I will have to find out as this plays out. It was crazy when he was talking about how he kept tabs on me and my where-abouts for most of my childhood. Just observing from the distance…..no interference. Yeah, I can definitely understand that.
At the end of our meeting, we exchanged information. Whether or not I ever see him again is up in the air. I have a habit of not keeping in touch with anyone. But, this person, I may just give more effort to. Just out of curiosity, if anything.
