I was talking to a friend last night who told me that her birth father died 5 years ago of a drug overdose. she spoke about it matter of factly, since she was raised by adoptive parents. I wondered if my father might have suffered a similar fate with me being ignorant of the fact.
“My biologial didn’t bother” as the song goes. He’s pretty much a myth, a legend. My own Keyser Soze. All I know is his name and since there was no effort on his part to exist in his life (as far as I know). I never thought I could get anything substantive from knowing him, from meeting him, aside from getting information about potential health issues he may have passed on to me. I met my 1-day-older brother when I was 15, his other son, but that was a meaningless experience. like meeting a derivative duplicate of a ghost.
But I am possessed with a morbid curiousity now as I push 40, about if this man is still alive. Being one to be resourceful about finding people on the internet, I found the Virgin Islands white pages and there are a list of people with his last name who live where I heard he lives.
I stare, unsue what my next course of action is to be.
to be continued…
see googling mother
Yeah, althought I didn’t understand it as a kid I realized later that the best thing my mom could have done for us was to put my dad out.