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Rob Me

by Kaitlin Anderson 10 months ago in grief

People say family is the only thing you can rely on, but what if that's a lie?

My mornings aren't usually as gloomy as they are today, but today's a weird day already anyway.

I'm laying in bed still, and I look over at him and he's so beautiful when he sleeps, so I quietly swing my legs over the bed and put my robe on to start my day off.

I live a below average life, too boring if you will. I wake up everyday and do the same thing, but with a semi different agenda. I've not come to have children yet but I'm only twenty three and want them more than anything, but I want them to have a better life than I had.

I slide the back door open to my patio and sit in the only spot I want to be in all day. I spark my morning cigarette and start thinking of what the days events are going to be like, things could go nice and simple like the universe should grant me, or things could blow up in my face as per usual.

I pick up my journal I keep on my outside coffee table and start to write out what my anxiety is telling me, sounds crazy but with the seldom therapy I've had within the years I've only met one woman who taught me this method and its changed my life.

Today is my biological Fathers funeral. I'm not sure how to act, not sure what to evens say, but mostly, I'm curious..

I hear him walking around inside, so I smack my book shut and go inside. "Hi." I greet him with a small smile. "Goodmorning, you're up earlier than you were supposed to, did you not sleep?" He raises his furry brow at me. "Yes. the rain startled me awake, so I just got up." I say with my arms around him.

We get ready and head off to an address my mother sent me and it's only a few hours away, but the drive is giving me too much time to think.

I was adopted and I couldn't have asked for a better family to be given to, but as someone like me knows, it was too hard not to try and find the source of my creation. I dont know alot about him, but I guess that's the most interesting part, right?

We pull up to a small building that looks old and worn down but maybe useable, and we spot a car parked on the side, he parks and my nerves are tingling everywhere. I have a family, I have one that loves me, enough, but I'm not sure why I came. All I ever heard was bad things about the teeenagers who gave me up for adoption , but the images in my head were far from that. They could have been star crossed lovers that just could not be away from one another, but were forced to be apart for some reason, I don't know. But thats why I came, I tell myself.

I finally get out and I'm toughing it out, I swallow my air and walk towards the door with him walking behind for support and protection.

We walk inside and see, nothing? I back up and bump into his chest, the darkness in a semi long hallway immediately has us wanting to turn back, but after I focus my eyes I see a light at the very end. "I'll just say it, but you're going first." He rubs my shoulders and I huff. "Do not, let go, of my hand." I squeeze his big hand and feel him nod.

Slowly but not enough we reach the end of the hollway and the door is closed but the lights are on, so I knock. We shuffle back to give the opener some space to either kill us or, not.

I slightly jump at hearing footsteps coming from the other side and the door opens, and a bald man greets us with a pleasant smile.

"Hello, Ms. Anderson, yes?"

"um yes, Hi" I say after my eyes reagust.

"So sorry about the entrance! our light went out and my receptionist is out on lunch, come on in." He leads the way into his well lit office. It has a slight 80's vibe with the colored couches and bland wall paintings, but my gard does not go down that easy. We both sit in chairs across from his desk and he has a folder out.

"So Ms. Anderson, I was in charge of your fathers estate and will. And it was apparent he was not in contact with you, but he was happy to hear you were trying to find him, but he was a sick man well before you became interested in finding your birth parents, he had stage four liver cancer, and he was single for half his life but he did well for himself and that's why you're here today, Mr. Thomas has left you with the deed to his home on lake Crystal, and his last check for 20,000. He had one more child who lived in an incare facility due to a brain aneurysm that left him paralyzed from the neck down. but sadly he passed a few years ago, so everything else goes to you, ma'am." He says with his hands on the desk.

I don't have a whole lot of emotions, I found my brothers name and medical records online so I was sad to hear the only biological sibling I had wouldn't be here long, but I was just happy to have had shared the same blood with someone, that's why I was even more upset when I found at my biological father had passed.

"Well thank you for seeing me today, but I was wondering if he had parents or any family too?" I asked, I didn't know if he was like me or had a family, I wondered what they'd be like, or what he'd even be like.

"No ma'am, I am sorry to tell you this, but his family was murdered when he was eighteen, just after he and your mother had you." He says with low eyes and a frown of sympathy.

My heart dropped. I always wondered why, why couldn't they keep me, but how could they? who would he have even turned to if he had questions, who would be kissing him and hugging and congratulating him on his child's achievements? my grandparents? oh my. I've felt heartache but this feels different.

He was robbed of a family and a life. He still made something of himself but I just can't help but feel his loneliness, his wanting for happiness that only your blood can give you. I hold my husbands hand and squeeze it tight, tight like I never want him to leave my side.

We talk for a bit more and he gives me a binder full of things, and we say our goodbyes.

As I'm watching the trees pass on the drive home, I'm not happy with having this new information, but I block the horrible racing thoughts and questions my brain is coming up with all at once, and I just think of my life and how different I want it to be now. Money is money and I'm grateful he has left me with it, but I can't think of what I would need it for, because what would he have done with it?

I open the folder and see his handwriting on some documents and its a little like mine, so it has me wondering how much we were alike. I feel for anything else and touch something hard, I pull out a little black book and open the first pages. He journaled every thought he had, he wrote down his feelings as if he was throwing them up on the paper. I finally cry and feel the feeling I've craved since I realized my parents weren't my real parents, and this little black book filled a hole in me I couldn't fill myself.

grief

Kaitlin Anderson

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