Jackie.F member for 27 weeks 2 days Send a message

When I was 21, I was casually watching the Ricki Lake Show. During that period, the show had become very fun and popular exhibiting real life issues and scenarios. I never thought that her show would influence me until that day...

The topic related to paring up dads with their daughters that they had not seen since "who knew" or had never seen before. The reasons many of these men were not in their daughter's lives was because they didn't even know they had a child. At the time I thought to myself: "What could drive a mother not to tell a man that he is the father of her baby?" There were a million reasons but soon I would find out that my dad did know of my existence but never acknowledged me...that felt worse. I can imagine, hear his feelings right now--"Well you know...I just never came around to it. Not really, your mom was dating so many men. You know how it is."

At the end of Ricki's show, I was determined to find my dad, as if he was lost or something. I called the 800 number posted at the end of her show. I was so eager, anxious, and excited that I would find the other half of me that I didn't know. I was hoping it would at least explain why I looked the way I did. Why I felt different than the rest of my family, yet not knowing what the difference was.

After two hours of research and a week later, I received a letter from the military stating that my dad lived in Fort Benning, Georgia. I called the info line in that state and got his number. Just like that. I knew where my daddy lived and I had access to my other family that I was dying to meet.

I summoned courage to call. I spoke nervously and respectfully. I introduced myself to his wife who answered the phone and she passed the phone to the voice ringing in my ears 'till this day. I was expecting my dad to be so happy to hear from me. But I heard, "How did you get this number?" My heart was startled but nonetheless I had hope. I explained how I did my own search and how happy I was to hear his voice. I was expecting an invitation to meet him in Georgia. I wanted to tell him that he had a grandson. But I heard, "I only had sex with your mom once and besides, I heared she was going out with another guy..." What ever else he said I could not hear as numbness ran all up me.

It all happened in slow motion for me. I was frozen, regretting every step I had taken to that moment. Wondering how I could just hang up and the conversation would also be disconnected from my memory. Is he really denying me? Am I being rejected? Wow...that's what it feels like, I pondered.

I caught myself in a blank, staring out the window and heard my voice say, "Sorry to bother you. May God bless you." He responded to the effect--do not lose hope, everyone has their story, etc. What did those empty words mean, I still don't know.

TEN YEARS PASS...
I'm 31, having the time of my life. Discovering new things about myself. I was maturing and tring to forget things of the past.

My half brother partied with a friend who happened to be my cousin. They knew eachother for years but had not made a connection until my brother mentioned me having a related last name. My cousin tells his dad the story and brings my uncle to meet me and my son. We have a blast. He tells me that he was looking for me for many years but no results. He turned out to be an alcoholic and the black sheep of the family, the comlete opposite of my dad, according to his family. It did not matter to me, that made me love him more because we were both being outcasted from the family.

My uncle tells me that my dad is a deacon. Has been for many years. My uncle told me that my father is seen in the family of nine brothers and sisters as the "perfect one." He told me that people in the family would be shocked if thet knew my dad had me. I did not pay much attention to the things he said about my dad because I was finally happy to meet someone from the "other half." At that moment, I was elated just to have someone who was a part of me, even if it wasn't my dad.

Months passed and my dad's brother-in-law dies. My dad came to NY and the wake which was a block and a half away. His eledest sister called and pleaded with me to come and see him. Why, I thought to myself. This man rejected me ten years ago. They told me that he wanted to see me (it was not true). And I believed them. When I entered the apartment, I heared the voice ringing in my ears...again. It was praying to God like how Jimmy Swagert used to pray. It was believable. It sounded genuine from the heart. But how could this same man not find love in his heart for me? As he prayed for a dead man's soul, his daughter stood outside alive wanting to be prayed for, yet praying for him.

I wanted to leave and my uncle wouldn't let me. My dad's wife came out of the praying room and I met her. She was so loving and embracing towards me. I was confused. I hugged her with passion and she kissed me. She told me how she was glad to have met me. Then my uncle waited for my dad to finish praying and when he approached the kitchen area it happened. I was introduced to him, a second time...this time face to face.

My uncle called my dad loudly to call everyone's attention and said this is your daughter. I shook his hand and he asked me for a hug. I felt nothing. Actually, I felt empty inside. There was no love, joy, nothing good. We did not talk after that. He said nothing to me but stared at me hard, examining every trace of my face. I could feel his look even from a peripheral view. It was intense. I felt really uncomfortable because nothing was being said, no Q & A's, no small talk, zilch. I said goodnight to all present and left.

What is holding him back from accepting and loving me? No one knew until this moment that all my heart desired all this time was for my son to have a relationship with him. To hear my son say, "grandpa." I guess it is not the right time but I will remain with hope...for my two boys at least. I sometimes can't believe why I pray for him still. I talk to my mom but I limit telling her certain portions because what she already knows, kills her inside.

I love my mom and I believe in her words. She was the one who clothed, bathed, and fed me. Sacrificed to place me in private school. Helped pay for college, taught me how to salsa dance. Gave me my first drink because she didn't want me "tryin' things in the street." Dressed me in the same outfit as her, put makeup on my face and took me to my first club affair. Introduced me to world music. I love opera because of her. I went to Paris and fell in love because of her. I love my mom because she trusted me to do good. The least I can do for her...is believe.

I wonder what surprises are in store for me at 41?