"And it's true we named our children after towns that we've never been to." - Modest Mouse, Black Cadillacs
After nearly 30 years, I have my biological father's name. A week ago my mother spoke it to me over the phone. She was somewhere in the Mall of Americas in Minneapolis. I sat on my couch, X-Men Legends in still motion on the television screen. We'd only discussed him once before. On this day, we spoke freely. Well, she did. I sat in silence as questions rose to the surface. I said, "interesting" a lot and then let the quiet re-enter the conversation so that she would continue. He played football. He is older than my mother, though not by much. He has been in and out of jail most of his adult life as far as she knows but she doesn't know much. When my dad adopted me officially in 1989 they had to satisfy a court requirement and attempt to inform him of what was happening. At that time, the information they had for him suggested he was in California but no one was really sure. In any event, he never responded, never stood for me as his own, and thus, in the eyes of the law as it had been in my heart, my dad, Kevin, became my dad. This other man, the one I share genetic history with, has spread his seed freely through his life. I know I have at least 3 half-siblings (but not their names) and, most likely, several more.
After that conversation, my sister and I left for New York. The original purpose of the trip was to be with my dad's mother, Modear, for her 75th birthday. My dad's entire immediate family would be there. My uncles and aunts, their children, and us. My mother and I spent a lot of time together when she and my dad arrived, 4 days after my sister and I had been in the city, and talked about my dad. I said some things about him that I had never said before. Things that maybe I've taken for granted throughout my life with him as my father.
"He's a good man. Honorable," I said. Honorable? I'd never said that about anyone before in my life. It feels archaic. It's a statement made about the men of Camelot or in Roland's world on his quest for The Dark Tower. Roland and his ka-tet say I have forgotten the face of my father when their actions cause offense. But, as I watched my dad this week and the love he has for his family, all of us, I felt it. He is an honorable man. He wants to do good things. To do what is right.
We all gathered in a Chinese restaurant for Modear's party. She sat in the center of our private room as her family shared their feelings about her. My dad was second to speak. He talked of her commitment to him and his craft, her struggles with alcohol after she left his father and how she continued to care for them. How she kept him at the piano when he hated it til there was a point when he loved it more than just about anything in the world. He paused. His voice cracked. He teared up. We all did.
"I am so happy that we are all here to share this with you and that you are here to share this with us. The life you've had, you shouldn't be here but your will, your spirit, has kept you here with us. God has greater plans than even we know. I hope that I have shown you and can continue to show you how much I love you," my dad said.
He remembered the face of his mother.
And I remember the face of my father.