Thursday

   As 2017 comes to a close, I want to de-clutter. It's time to fully release my story. I've held on to it long enough. I have no desire to continue to carry these bodies of sadness, disappointment, hurt, anger, and pain into a new season. In fact, in order for me to move into a new season, it's essential that I let go. No amount of expected pity is going to make me stronger. In the new year, I hope to write about my journey through healing. It's time to lay the last brick in the foundation.

  Do you remember back when I mentioned that I had a 2nd cousin match on Ancestry? Well, that 2nd cousin had a first name, and no it's not O-S-C-A-R. I digress. My cousin's name is Sam. Once I discovered his name, I went back to cousin LeRoy and asked him if he knew Sam. If Sam was my 2nd cousin, then I wanted to know all of his 1st cousins. One of those 1st cousins had to be my bio parent. LeRoy knew Sam, and I was excited! I was going to finally narrow this thing down. But, there was a hitch. Do you remember my hope in NOT wanting to be descended from the family of the woman that had 13 kids? Well, you can call 13 my lucky number, because cousin Sam was one of those descendants, and so was I.
  I wrote Sam a letter detailing who I was and what my search was about. I asked him to call me when he received my letter. Meanwhile, LeRoy's daughter was guiding me in who was related to Sam on Facebook. She directed me to a couple of his aunts and a few of his first cousins. This was beyond good. It was groundbreaking. Now I was looking at great-aunts, and maybe even aunts. My head started spinning. Beyonce can't twirl on her haters the way my my mind twirled on this new information. After months at sea, I was starting to see land. So, in my normal fashion, I began to type out private Facebook messages to strangers. My stomach was in knots. I did the whole "I know this sounds crazy and I'm trying not to scare the hell out of you " spiel. It was a Thursday night, I remember it so well. A woman named Jean (one of Sam's aunts) read my message and asked if she could call me. My heart jumped into my throat. I said yes, and gave her my phone number.
  Jean was excited to speak with me. She said that she felt a sadness in her heart for my story and felt that someone in her family "needed to know that they have a seed". Ummmmmm, I'm so much more than a seed. I shutter at the thought. Le sigh and Le vomit. I gave a few bits of information about myself, and I told her that I'd been researching my familial roots on Ancestry. I also shared with her that I was connected to her nephew Sam, and that she may be my great aunt or aunt. She gasped. Her next sentence hit me like the strongest winds that pushed me clean across the Atlantic: "I think I know who your father is". Time stopped. Seven months of searching halted and stood at attention. Every shred of research that once lay beside me on my sofa, all just seemed to rise and stare at me. I was effin breathless. I was speechless. I was motionless. I'm not sure that I ever thought that I would reach this point. Jean said that she wanted talk with one of her brothers, and that she didn't want to give me his name until she knew for sure. It was 11 p.m. on a Thursday night. There was no way that I was going to get any sleep.


Friday morning came, and I lay in bed with a mind that had been running at an immeasurable speed throughout the night. I was wide awake. I was anxious and nervous. I knew that I'd found the right family. I had all the evidence and research to prove that. But, was I ready to find out the identity of my bio father? Did he even know that I existed? Did he have a family? Would this devastate them? There was no way that I was going to catch my track star of a mind. It was off to the races and I was left as a shell, just holding all my insides togther. At about 9:30 a.m. I got a phone call from Jean. Her sentence was definitive. "I know who your father is." As she told me some details that I had not shared with her, I gasped. I began to cry. She was right. My biological father was her brother. Jean was my aunt. And Sam, was my half first cousin. That meant that we only shared one grandparent, which was our grandmother. My goodness. Jean gave me her brother's phone number and asked me to call him.  I burst into a flurry of tears, and Jean quickly exited the conversation to let me cry alone. I was stunned. I had a name and a number, and I had just spoken to my aunt.