Holding onto some kind of hope

Dear xxxx,

My name is xxxx xxxx and I am looking for my biological father. I was born in 1981 in xxxx, Qld. My Mother’s name was xxxx xxxx, and at the time I believe she lived in xxxx Rd, xxxx.

The reason I am writing to you is that Mum said that my fathers’ name was xxxx xxxx, and he lived in xxxx St, xxxx. I have done a name search on the electoral roll for 1980 in xxxx, and saw there was a xxxx xxxx xxxx living there. I then did a current name/address search and your address came up.

I am writing to find out if you are my biological father. I will only write this letter once, because I believe in fate, and I do realise that my existence may not be something that xxxx has shared with his family. I believe his parents knew, and I don’t have any more information than that.

I understand that if you are my biological father, you may not have any interest in meeting me. That’s ok. But if you don’t mind, would you please confirm that I have (or haven’t) found you so that I may stop looking?

Also, if you are open to a conversation with me, would you be prepared to share some information about your family history? I have been tracing my family tree and half of it is blank! Any major hereditary health concerns would be appreciated too J

I did not know that my Step-father was not my biological father until I was 25. It was kind of a shock, but I think I always knew. I once saw xxxx, who worked for the Brisbane City Council, in the mid- 1990s, working on the road outside our house. Mum saw him and waved, and that was it. I did not know or I would have said hello.

If you would like to contact me, my mobile is (blah blah). My address is (blah blah blah).  In case you are interested, I have 2 children, aged 4 and 5, and I am graduating this year with a law degree. I’m also happy and content with my life, so you know I have turned out ok. J

Thanks for your time,

xxxx xxxx 

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He responded, answered some questions and showed a glimpse of himself through text messages. Though nothing has come of it, I am truly thankful that he was brave enough to respond. Especially since he obviously knew my mother ;p Life happens. I know that. Some part of me wants to be accepted, because I never was. There has always been an unspoken condition. That is my narrative.

Its time to burn the books.

And the Universe works in mysterious ways. I don't think I could ever express my gratitude to the family members who found me,  and the peace they have brought to my heart. Photos, stories, medical histories... its almost like the Universe is saying, "Look, you aren't going to win this round, but I'll get you the info you need to move on... yes.. you have a german connection.. now go back to sleep."


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31st May 2014

So this is sort of an update.

I have become good friends with one of his cousins over the last year or so, sharing lives through facebook; she is a very special lady and I feel like I have known her forever. Similar personalities, similar senses of humour. And she seems to really like me, which is touching :) I have nothing but admiration for her... and if she reads this, I hope she knows she means a lot to me :)

Sadly, my biological father died last week. I never met him. I don't know how sudden it was, whether he or his immediate family knew he was that sick, but I was told over a week ago that he was in intensive care. And then the message last weekend that he died.

I never got the chance to meet him.

This saddens me, but I'm actually ok with it. I feel wistful. I don't feel angry, or rejected, or anything negative. If it really matters, I forgive him. I hope he forgives me. He abandoned my mother when she was pregnant, and he rejected me too when I found him. It does sound really harsh when you put it that way, but I honestly harbour no ill feelings.

I have looked deep into myself. Part of me doesn't feel like I have a right to mourn, we never bonded; But then a part of me feels connected to him. I don't know why  - maybe it is cell memory in my DNA.

I would like to meet my half-sister, but she is young, and going through the loss of her father, so now is not really the time. I will pass on my contact details and leave the rest to her. She may never contact me, but I will always be here if she does. I hope she has a wonderful life and feels his loving energy forever. I hope she fulfils her dreams, lives a long healthy happy life. Smiles a lot and travels. Connects with her higher self lol and I hopes she knows she is Divine.

I'm not looking for acceptance, though I don't want to be rejected. I'm so nervous about the funeral... lol I'm sure the family have much more dignity than to yell me out of there. I hope no one notices me. I hope no one approaches me. I'm stoic now, but I'm afraid I'll cry and then know that they feel I have no right to cry. Sounds weird hey?

I don't want sympathy, it's not about me. All I wanted was to know him. Know who he was. Were our mannerisms the same? Did we share facial expressions? What was he like as a person? And really, what better way to find out than to go to the funeral where people who loved him will talk... and no one will say bad things, so my lasting memories of 'him' will be good... logic!

ok, im going to bed. its late. Just felt like updating this :)

ciao for now

The dreaming of Zenefertiti

I wish I could dream again... well I always dream.. but dreaming was so exciting once. It was a humble escape from those awkward teenage years, where life actually had promise and i wasnt dragged down to the pits of affordability and general strangeness.

Can someone really be odd? Or is the odd person the one who thinks the other is odd? Or is the odd person the one who thinks they are odd? Why would you want to be odd? Why wouldnt you?

I really admire the person I once was. I hated myself at the time, I hated my life, and couldnt wait to do stuff.... i blamed certain elements for some things and aspired to others to be something more. And yet, I still dont know who or where I am, but strangely enough.. there is a comfort in that I find rewarding....
There are diaries and dream journals from years ago, that I love to look through.. i scorn their simplicity while agonising over things that might have been - but better they werent.

one thing that has always been me is faith. Im not sure in what though...thats the oddity of this space im in... it was runes, it was tarot, it was dreaming, it was drugs, it was staying in your place... knowing your place and not moving forward, up, down or even left of centre... but something happens when you forget about the idealism and move on... something happens when your heart is broken and your dreams are achieved, no matter how elusive...

somehow in this place I have lost myself.. and I creep into the periphery sometimes.... wondering and tiptoeing, thinking how splendid it would be if i were to return with taffeta and earrings... with pnk and purple and the blacks and the greys...
there are some things to avoid... they are no doubt dredged up with those dreams... the doubts and the feelings that you must recognise before you can go to the next level....

why is it that some things happen? the fabric of life and love and hate and sadness is a colourful memory, maybe predestined but maybe just accidental... and when the threads come loose, and the shards of your mind start to fuse together in the strangest way.. maybe that is when that grey feeling fades to black and you can wake up.. refreshed and bewildered.. ignorant and happy.

its bliss