With the story of Ketch meeting his father and the thread about Ancestry.com I want to relate a story, my story. For the 90% of you that won't find it interesting you can stop reading now as it has nothing to do with UT or Football, or naked breasts. Unfortunately. For the 2% of you that want to bitch about the content, go away.
This story is for the people that never knew they weren't alone in the world, that good things do happen, and that people are good. For the last 56 years of my life I was alone. I am married and have 2 great girls, but my mom died 20 years ago, I was an only child and my fatherS, capital S for plural, had a propensity of dying or disappearing. I have a cousin on my mother's side but her brothers, sister and parents are all dead. In other words I was alone.
When cleaning out my my mother's house for sale after her death I found old records that showed I was adopted. I thought this meant my father adopted me. I asked my cousin and she told me I was adopted by my mom and dad at birth. There is the old wives' tale of a person's life flashing in front of their eyes at the moment of their death. Well, for me it was all the things in my life that didn't make sense unless I was not my mother's biological child.
Fast forward 18 years and my girls get me a DNA test to find out where I'm from. I have a Doppelganger from Kuwait and my youngest daughter looks like she could pass for a Latina. I get the results and its a little weird, but nothing earth-shattering. I get an email from someone saying we are related. He lives in Tyler and his dad was a player back in the day, so I was probably his brother.
Two years go by and I get another email from a 23 year old kid that says we are 2nd or 3rd cousins. I start to put a few pieces of info together to call the first guy and I get another email from a 3rd person that says we are 1st cousins. I sent the guy my phone number and at 8:30 on a Monday night he calls me. Says his dad and uncles are trying to figure out which is my father.
I told the guy/kid that I was born in 1961 and the phone is really silent. He says his dad was born in 1959 and his uncles in 63 and 64. I must be an uncle and that I have 3 brothers, some sister-in-laws, a brother-in-law and a more nieces and nephews. I told him I was born in November in Midland, TX. We hang up and as I'm watching TV and talking to my wife about all of this my phone blows up with friend requests on Facebook.
I head to my office to research my new family, still thinking its not real. My older brother doesn't look like me because our grandmother ran over his face with her land yacht a month after I was born. It de-gloved most of the side of his face and has left a lot of scars. My other brothers look like me. And one appears to be married to a man. Holy shit.
As I'm processing all of this my phone rings at 10:30 at night and the call is from Houston. Its my little brother. He says that Ma Bell is making a fortune off all of the phone calls that day between all the family members. Turns out their mother was sent to Midland in November of 1961. We are brothers.
The next night my middle brother calls. Both told me that our oldest brother would need time to figure out if this was true and probably woudn't call me right away. He calls Wednesday night.
I made a video of me giving a boy dating a longtime friend's daughter the "Dad Speech" and posted it to Facebook. My older brother had just watched it and it left no doubt we were brothers.
We all talked in the coming days and weeks all planning a get-together so they could 'eat me up.' That happened in June in East Texas. Last weekend they came to Dallas for the weekend. We are like little kids again, and I'm getting to know the 3 guys I should have grown up with. But my mother's lies kept us apart. I try very hard to not have regrets, but the tears on my keyboard tell me I'm failing.
The moral of this story is things happen when they are meant to happen. If you get an email or phone call, listen, and have an open heart. I wish Ketch had a better response from his dad, but sometimes people are too involved in themselves. His dad is missing a chance to experience a son. Don't let this happen to you. People... I'm trying hard to think of something witty to say, or profound, but the truth is that there is nothing you own, or your ego, or whatever that is more important than another person, especially someone who is family.
I learned to go through life with the idea that family is NOT always about blood, sometimes its the people that you love and the people that love you too that makes family. Now I know that sometimes it is blood.
This story is for the people that never knew they weren't alone in the world, that good things do happen, and that people are good. For the last 56 years of my life I was alone. I am married and have 2 great girls, but my mom died 20 years ago, I was an only child and my fatherS, capital S for plural, had a propensity of dying or disappearing. I have a cousin on my mother's side but her brothers, sister and parents are all dead. In other words I was alone.
When cleaning out my my mother's house for sale after her death I found old records that showed I was adopted. I thought this meant my father adopted me. I asked my cousin and she told me I was adopted by my mom and dad at birth. There is the old wives' tale of a person's life flashing in front of their eyes at the moment of their death. Well, for me it was all the things in my life that didn't make sense unless I was not my mother's biological child.
Fast forward 18 years and my girls get me a DNA test to find out where I'm from. I have a Doppelganger from Kuwait and my youngest daughter looks like she could pass for a Latina. I get the results and its a little weird, but nothing earth-shattering. I get an email from someone saying we are related. He lives in Tyler and his dad was a player back in the day, so I was probably his brother.
Two years go by and I get another email from a 23 year old kid that says we are 2nd or 3rd cousins. I start to put a few pieces of info together to call the first guy and I get another email from a 3rd person that says we are 1st cousins. I sent the guy my phone number and at 8:30 on a Monday night he calls me. Says his dad and uncles are trying to figure out which is my father.
I told the guy/kid that I was born in 1961 and the phone is really silent. He says his dad was born in 1959 and his uncles in 63 and 64. I must be an uncle and that I have 3 brothers, some sister-in-laws, a brother-in-law and a more nieces and nephews. I told him I was born in November in Midland, TX. We hang up and as I'm watching TV and talking to my wife about all of this my phone blows up with friend requests on Facebook.
I head to my office to research my new family, still thinking its not real. My older brother doesn't look like me because our grandmother ran over his face with her land yacht a month after I was born. It de-gloved most of the side of his face and has left a lot of scars. My other brothers look like me. And one appears to be married to a man. Holy shit.
As I'm processing all of this my phone rings at 10:30 at night and the call is from Houston. Its my little brother. He says that Ma Bell is making a fortune off all of the phone calls that day between all the family members. Turns out their mother was sent to Midland in November of 1961. We are brothers.
The next night my middle brother calls. Both told me that our oldest brother would need time to figure out if this was true and probably woudn't call me right away. He calls Wednesday night.
I made a video of me giving a boy dating a longtime friend's daughter the "Dad Speech" and posted it to Facebook. My older brother had just watched it and it left no doubt we were brothers.
We all talked in the coming days and weeks all planning a get-together so they could 'eat me up.' That happened in June in East Texas. Last weekend they came to Dallas for the weekend. We are like little kids again, and I'm getting to know the 3 guys I should have grown up with. But my mother's lies kept us apart. I try very hard to not have regrets, but the tears on my keyboard tell me I'm failing.
The moral of this story is things happen when they are meant to happen. If you get an email or phone call, listen, and have an open heart. I wish Ketch had a better response from his dad, but sometimes people are too involved in themselves. His dad is missing a chance to experience a son. Don't let this happen to you. People... I'm trying hard to think of something witty to say, or profound, but the truth is that there is nothing you own, or your ego, or whatever that is more important than another person, especially someone who is family.
I learned to go through life with the idea that family is NOT always about blood, sometimes its the people that you love and the people that love you too that makes family. Now I know that sometimes it is blood.
