Long ago and far away...

So, a while ago, while I was busy doing nothing, I came across a bunch of old journals that I kept at various points in my life. In a half assed attempt to actually learn from the past I started reading through them to see where I've changed and were I haven't. I thought it would be interesting to post some entries here, every so often, on the actual day they were written...so many years ago. Well okay, in this case only two years ago.

So here we go...

Oct 2, 2004

The pictures came today. I'd been waiting for them for twenty-five years. At first I was afraid to even look. They're just pictures, Hope. No. You don't understand. They're more than photographs. They're pieces of my life. A life that no one wants me to remember...a life that I can never forget. I feel like I should hide them away. Somewhere secret, where no one can find them and take them away, like all of the other pieces. It is so important for me to have something tangible, something real to hold on to. Proof I guess, that I existed...that she existed.

I waited to open them. Waited until all laundry was done. Waited until the baby was fed and put down for a nap. Waited until Jason was busy playing his game. Once everything was done, I grabbed my beer and the large mailer envelope and went out onto the porch. And I opened them, with my heart was beating out of my chest and my hands shaking.

After I had looked at them, for what had to be at least an hour, I realized what I had hoped would happen didn't. The void that I had expected them to fill, was not only still there, but now even larger than before. These photographs didn't answer my questions, they created more...and it is so frustrating to long for something you will never have. Along with more questions, they've also aroused suspicion, and feelings of betrayal. Who is this man? And why do I have his eyes?

Okay. Back to 2006. The pictures were of my childhood prior to age seven, when I was taken away. They were sent to me from my Aunt in Florida after my son was born. I still don't know for sure who the man is. No one else seems to know...anyone that would has died. I've been told two different versions of the circumstances surrounding my birth. 1. My father knew nothing about me...didn't even know my mother was pregnant. 2. My father knew but wanted nothing to do with it and split prior to my birth. In each case, he wouldn't have been around, yet here is this man..holding me outside...helping me open Christmas presents...posing for a picture on valentines day...this man with eyes like mine.

Does is really matter who he is, at this point in the game? Probably not. But it did matter two years ago. It was right after my son was born and I was so filled with love for him, that no matter how I tried I couldn't even imagine a parent being able to walk out of their child's life. Even early on. I couldn't imagine a parent not loving their child. Some time has passed and the need for the truth is slowing passing as well. Not that I wouldn't welcome it. I'm just not sure I have enough energy left to go searching for it.