I was about six years old, I remember sitting on my mom's lap with a Capri Sun in hand when she told me to cut off the television so we could talk. My dad, the only man I've ever known by that title, came into the room and sat down. There was an unrecognizable tension that my six-year-old self immediately caught on to. I wasn't sure if I was in trouble, or if one of my teachers called home. It could be anything! My mother looked at me, and carefully explained that my dad was not my biological father. She told me that my actual father refused to sign my birth certificate, and hadn't been in touch since I was born.
Fast forward to my senior year of high school. 11 birthdays had passed and all I really knew about my biological dad was that he wore glasses and had a motorcycle. Then all of a sudden I get a phone call from a girl I know to be a half sister; we have the same father. I met her a few months prior but when I answered the phone it wasn't a female voice. After a few brief seconds of confusion I realized that the man on the other line was my father. After 17 years of ignorance, I finally know the sound of my fathers voice. After a short 10 minute conversation of awkward silence and choking back tears, I told him I had to go and hung up the phone. Confused with my opposing feelings of excitement and anger I kept it to myself.
Since then I have been in contact with a small handful of family members on that side. Now at 21 I still have yet to meet any of them in person. Not that they ever asked or offered, but after thinking about the years of childhood that they missed out on I couldn't help but think that they waited until I was a legal adult to reach out as a matter of convenience. This thought enraged me, I didn't want to speak or have anything to do with them. Why now? Why not when I was 12 and I was counting in my head how many birthday presents they owed me? Or when I was 16 and tried for 6 days to find his phone number on the internet. My standing curiosity though pushed me to continue contact. Just for the sake of the many many questions I have for him, like why wouldn't he sign my birth certificate or why did you all disappear? Questions that still burn in my head, and probably anyone else who has ever had a prodigal parent.
