Lost & Found

I can’t believe I have neglected to write about a pretty life changing event. I have written in here some about my father who I wasn’ close to most of my life and who committed suicide when I was 19 years old. It was hard for me to grow up without him, especially since the door was there but he never started knocking. I’d be lying if I said even after these past few years I didn’t still harbor resentment, anger, dissapointment, even a small amout of hatred towards my father. In my heart I know he loved me, and I know he wished there was something more between us, that we had the kind of relationship a father and daughter should have, but his fear of facing his own fears and drinking problem kept him from getting to know his only daughter, his first born. I keep wondering when the day will come that I will find peace in his passing, forgiveness in his passing, and contentment with his passing and the lacking of his presence in my life. It hasn’t come yet. Despite all the negative feelings I harbor towards my father, I’d also be lying if I told myself I didn’t miss him a great deal. It has taken me this long to come to terms with my hurt, and my anger. I think it’s because I don’t necessarily have to share it alone anymore.

When my mom and dad were married my dad fooled around with a great many women (if you want to call them that.) He was nice, charming, a little simple but he had a way with women. He cheated a lot on my mom. Six months after my birth, my father struck up a relationship with my mom’s (at the time) best friend and got her pregnant. He owned up to his "son" in court but didn’t own up to him in life. He made no attempts to get to know this boy. When I was young my mom told me the story of my half brother, I always knew he was out there and maybe in the back of my mind I was a little curious as to who he was, but I really didn’t make attempts to get to know him. I think partly because I was bitter towards the surroundings of his conception. He was created by my dad and this woman who called herself my mom’s best friend, but I also knew that it wasn’t his fault he was created. I think a small part of me didn’t want to share the role of my dad’s child. Even though he wasn’t around, maybe I took pride in being his only daughter he didn’t try to be close to. A selfish part of me I presume. Maybe because in the deepest recesses of my mind and heart I have good memories of my dad, and because I know he loved me more than anything, I didn’t want him to have those same feelings for another child. I didn’t want to share the very small spotlight I had in my father’s life. If that makes any kind of sense.

When I became a teenager and my dad started contacting me again for the first time in years, I began to confront him about all the lies he’d told me, promises he’s made, things he’d done to my mom and I, and one of the things I confronted him on was that of my rumored half brother who he testified in court was his. He denied Sean the second I mentioned him. I think because he already looked so bad in my eyes he didn’t want his daughter to think any worse of him. I don’t know. Maybe he didn’t really consider Sean his son since he didn’t have contact with him, since he was born out of wedlock, because he was born out of a 2 week one night stand and not of "love" like I was when he was with my mom. I can’t really say for sure why he lied. Maybe that’s just what he did to try and cover his own butt and it’s just that simple. I never brought Sean up again to him.

After my father died, I began to wonder if he’d ever been in contact with Sean, and if Sean even knew my father….our father had died. My mom found his name while doing some of her geneology work, but we could never find anymore information. Finally, one day, after three years of searching I found him on none other than myspace. I look at his pictures every day, trying to find traces of my father in him, maybe to try and figure out if my father was after all telling the truth, or maybe because aside from me, he was the last piece of my father. My feelings are so torn regarding Sean. On one hand I am happy I found him, because he is my half brother. On the other hand, I feel betrayed. How could my father go out and have another child with another woman when he had me? His little girl? Does that make sense? But at the same time my heart breaks for Sean because my father denied him, wanted nothing to do with him, never spoke of him to anyone. I hae memories of my father, albeit they aren’t the best memories, but I have them none the less. Sean didn’t do anything wrong to deserve a father who wanted nothing to do with him. I feel guilty for my dad priding in me more, for loving me more, for wanting me more, for having my pictures in his house, in his wallet, for teaching me to drive for the first time, for taking me to work with him, for sending me home videos of him in Michigan, for sending me birthday cards, for taking me to Grand Rapids Adventures, for every single shred of decency he’s ever shown me. Which out of 22 years, thats all I really have to mention. How do I tell Sean the memories I have with my father without coming off as the special one? The one who mattered more to him? I’m not really sure.

Here I am, I should be embracing my new half brother, but instead I don’t want to share the spotlight with him. My relationship with my father was so strained, so disfunctional, but at the same time I know my father adored me. He just didn’t know how to show it. He tried in the ways he knew how, they weren’t always the right ways, but he tried. A small part of me liked thinking of myself as his one and only true heir. Maybe that comes from being an only child my whole life, I am so used to my mom, and people of parental figures being all about me that sharing the lime-light isn’t easy.  Are these feelings that horrible of me? I hate myself for even being the slightest bit selfish about this.

I am doing my best to paint a portrait of my father to Sean. The good, the bad, the ugly. He has all the rights in the world to our father as I do. He has a right to pictures, stories, something to cling onto for the rest of his life. He doesn’t seem to bitter about his growing up without a father. Maybe he’s just really good at telling himself he doesn’t care, just as I was. Or maybe because he didn’t know our father it is easier for him to move on from the abadonment. I’m not sure. He said when he turned 18 he found our father and asked him about me and my father wouldn’t tell him anything, said he didn’t have a right to know, and also said my dad denied him as his son. It was rare that my father was ever completely honest with me, so I find it hard to figure out what is motive behind telling Sean that he wasn’t his father was. There are several possibilities, but now we’ll never know the answer.

Sean is very excited that I have found him. He said he’s been looking for me his whole life, and he’s making plans to come here next year from California to meet me for the first time. That’s a bit nerve wracking. But maybe seeing eachother in person will start the healing process and we can come to terms with our fatherless childhoods and figure out where to go from there. Maybe even figure out what to do with his remains. Although the thought of spreading them or sharing them with Sean is a bit difficult for me.I know how morbid this sounds, but a big part of me feels that since I didn’t have my father with me in life, I can finally have him in death. I finally have control over our relationship by my having his remains. How "Psycho" does that sound? *insert shower scene music here.*

I guess it’s normal to be going through the emotions I am going through. Not only dealing with the fact I permanently don’t have a father anymore, but now I also have a half brother by this father. I guess no one would find these feelings easy to deal with right away. I am doing my best to sort through them though.