The beginning of the end

If any night stands out to me most in my last 31 years, it's the night the pizza place I worked at had a Daddy & Daughter date night. All night long dozens of happy dads came in with their equally happy daughters. They ate pizza together, talked, laughed, looked as if they genuinely enjoyed each other's company. I didn't last more than a couple hours and asked to leave early. When I got home, I became completely undone. I cried on my aunt's shoulder, wondering why? What did I do wrong? What was so awful about me that my father hated me? Am I that horrible? I was unworthy of love. My mom had to do what she did to survive for my sister. I don't blame her anymore. If I had to choose between myself and my sister, of course I choose her. That still doesn't answer my question; How can a father not love his daughter? What did I do that made me so unlovable?

As my aunt looked into my eyes filled with hurt and longing, she couldn't hold back any longer. She wasn't supposed to tell me. I wasn't ever to know....that my father was not my biological dad.

Everything I felt and dreamed as a child was true. A weight was lifted off my shoulders. I was able to breathe. It all became clear. It all made sense, why I didn't look like him, why we never connected, why we never talked, why he didn't seem to like me. Oh my gosh! So this meant, I had a real dad out there, somewhere. I needed to find him. I needed to know everything. I had my aunts and grandmother piece out what happened to my mom after high school, where she was living, names of boys she brought home. Together they put together a timeline for me and I wasted no time.

The internet wasn't as big back then as it is now, where nearly half the world has a facebook account. Finding someone wasn't easy. I found a website that helped put people back in touch with their family members. I emailed the girl right away and told her my story. Not even an hour later, she called me and told me she found the parents of the man I was looking for. Gave me an address and that weekend, I took off.

I had no idea where to go, what I was going to say. I decided to go the movie route and based my trip off of My Girl 2. So I went to the fire station. Just so happens that the fire chief of that town's daughter knew my mom and remembered her and had even met me as a baby. Before I got the chance to talk to her, I told my story to the fire chief and he knew the parents of the man that might be my dad and tried calling them. They were not home, so he called this man, himself. At first the man tried to deny ever knowing my mom and I asked to talk to him. I cried immediately into the phone and he took back what he said. He agreed to meet with me, gave us directions and the fire chief urged me to come back afterwards to let him know how it went. This was a small town and I'm sure I was the news of it that day, and probably more action than they have had in awhile.

The moment we arrived at this man's house, the moment I saw him, my heart dropped. He wasn't my dad. He had the same features as my father, I didn't see any resemblance. I knew it immediately but I tried to hide my disappointment and I still wanted to meet him. He held a part of my mom's past and I wanted to know everything. Maybe there was a hidden clue, a small part of a story that could lead me somewhere else. He was very nice, scared, awkward but welcoming nonetheless. We all sat in his living room as he tried to tell me about my mom. He asked my birthdate and I could tell he was doing the math in his head. The timing was off. Way off. It didn't add up and he was sorry. We left and I felt just as lost and crushed as I had before. I was so close, yet so far. Back at the fire station, I met with my mom's old friend. She listed off some other names but she just wasn't sure, she thought my dad could be from another town as my mom wasn't in this one for that long. She wished me luck, hugged me, told me I was a special girl and hoped I find what I'm looking for.

A few days after this straight-from-a-movie adventure, that man called and said he'd like to do a paternity test. He couldn't get me out of his head and wanted to know for sure. I agreed right away and he set up a date. Two days before, he called to cancel. Someone was sick or he couldn't get off work. One of those excuses, but it doesn't matter which one because he used the other one when he tried to reschedule. He said he'd call again with another date and I never heard from him again. That was fine, because I knew he wasn't but at the same time I felt unloved and not worthy all over again.

The next year in college, my roommate and best friend convinced me to call my mom and confess that I knew my father wasn't my real dad. I told her I tried to find him, I wanted to find him. My mom had a secret, but she couldn't tell him then and instead told me a lie. She said the man that got her pregnant wanted nothing to do with me and she would never tell me his name.

And then for the next 10 years, I was more broken than ever. My father hated me because I wasn't his daughter and my real dad hated me because I was.