musings . . .

I borrowed that line from Marty McFly because that’s how I’ve been feeling lately.

Friday night (Feb. 8th, I suppose) around 10:15 the phone rang.  Being the hard-partying girl that I am, I was getting ready to settle in for the night and go to bed soon.  I didn’t recognize the phone number, but due to the time of night I could only guess that the phone call was important.  I picked it up and I think it changed my life.

I was greeted by someone who could tell me everything about myself.  She knew my name, DOB, mother’s name, grandmother’s name, etc.  It was Wilma, my biological father’s wife.  Dennis, my biological father, was soon to join me on the phone.  I learned a lot that night about his life, and about how unprepared I am to talk about myself and my life.  I also learned that, no matter how much you think it doesn’t mean anything to you, it really feels good to know that you are wanted. 

I never knew Dennis until that day.  He and my mother divorced undes less-than-ideal circumstanceswhen I was about 2 after having been seperated since I was a baby.  I don’t remember him at all.  I have a few pictures, but I can’t even really tell what he used to look like.  I guess he’s a short guy.  And I found out he had a stroke in 1984 that brought on many medical conditions like epilepsy.  And since then he’s had two brain surgeries.  He’s lived on social security disability since then.  So I’m guessing there’s no huge inheritance to be had.   And that’s okay because I never expected anything anyhow.  I never really expected him to find me.  And now I have more people in my life to deal with.  Not that that’s a bad thing, i just don’t quite know how to handle it. 

I started writing him a letter, but I can’t bring myself to finish it.  I had written a letter a couple of years ago as sort of a literary exercise.  I titled it “The Letter I’ll Never Send” more because I had no address to send it to, but now I won’t send it because he’d be hurt and I don’t want to do that. 

I spent so much emotional energy as a kid feeling rejected and lonely.  And angry at my situation.  I just wanted a family like everyone else.  Now he wants to be a part of my life and I don’t know what to do.  I guess I really do.  Just get to know him, take it slow, and see what kind of a person he really is.  People can look incredibly different depending on the lens you use to view them, and just because my mom saw him through the “wife” lens doesn’t mean I can’t see something different through my “estranged child” lens. 

I got a flower delivery yesterday from him.  He sent me 8 roses for Valentine’s Day and enclosed a card on which he wrote “I Love You, Dad.  PS. I’m glad I found you.”  In a way, it’s kind of creepy.  In another way, it’s sad and sweet all in one. 

I’m almost 30 and I feel like I have enough past to cover 60 years.