Biological father

In honor of Father’s Day, I am reposting this. Happy Fathers Day! 6/21/2009

fatheranddaughter.jpgIt was my 16th birthday when Mom told me about my biological father – it wasn’t the man who raised me, Daddy. At that point, it all made sense. It answered the question of why I did not see my face in the face of my paternal grandmother nor the faces of my cousins. I didn’t seem to “fit“. No one in the family dared say a word to me.

Even though my face did not “fit” in the family photos, I did not feel out of place nor unwanted. You see, I was Daddy’s favorite and he spoiled me rotten. My grandmother love and doted on me as she did all of her grandchildren. It was she that took me to my first day of kindergarten. I was tied to her apron strings. 🙂

This news made no bit of difference to me nor about how I felt towards my family. It did not make me long to meet the man who planted the seed. If he didn’t want to be in my life, it was his loss not mine because I was loved and well cared for – I wanted for nothing. So imagine my surprise when, at the age of 28, Mom calls to say she has located my biological father and he wanted to speak with me. I was heated!!! Hot as fish grease!! How dare she try to force this man on me, into my life. “I have a daddy dammit and don’t need another one!” I remember yelling into the phone at her before I hung up. I didn’t speak to my mother for 2 weeks.

After two weeks of crying, praying, and crying some more, I called Mom with my blessing to give the “biological” my phone number. That first conversation with Mr. C was overwhelming. He explained the reason for his absence which aligned with what Mom had told me over the years. I still wasn’t ready to let my guard down though. Hell, it was going to take more than just one 2-hour conversation to get to me, especially after 28 years! We agreed to keep in touch and were ending the call saying our “good-byes” and “talk to you laters” when he said “I love you“. “How can you love me? You don’t even know me!”, I replied. Mr. C responds, “Because you’re mine.” I wept uncontrollably.

To this day, I cannot adequately explain the emotions I felt at that moment.

Two weeks later I was debarking a plane at Chicago’s Midway Airport to meet my biological father for the first time. On that trip, I also met my older sister & brother, 2 nieces (one could be my twin), 1 nephew, an aunt, and a host of cousins.  My sister said, while giving me a big bear hug, “I always wanted a sister.” Each and every one of them were warm, loving and welcoming – so much so that I was again overwhelmed. I saw my face in each of their faces. I fit!

Their only question was why I waited so long to reach out to them. I explained that although I had known since I was 16, I didn’t feel a need to contact them because I had a family that loved and accepted me – a daddy, a grandmother, and a host cousins, aunts and uncles.

My biological father and I talk regularly. I still call him Mr. C, much to the chagrin of Aunt Doll, his sister – she thinks I should call him “daddy“. But he understands and that’s all that really matters.

I had a daddy. I have a father. I am tremendously blessed.

In memory of  my daddy, W.J.M. 12/4/1934 – 1/21/1997

In memory of my father, V.D.C. 07/17/1935 – 11/14/2010