The sisterhood that never was, but could be

The last few days I have been pretty sick – which by the way has nothing to do with why I have not written in months, I haven’t written because I have not had anything to say.

However I do today, armed with a bottle of Proprietor’s Reserve and my music I am ready to put some thoughts out into the universe for examination.

For thirty years – not the better part of – for thirty full years it has been myself, my mother (momma love) and my brother.  I had a nap yesterday because I was really just damn exhausted and sick and I wanted to sleep it away. I woke up to the news that I now have an older brother and two older sisters, as well as two younger sisters. I am a middle child.

Lets go back sya thirty years and I can explain.

Thirty years ago my mother had a relationship with a married man (She at this time did not know he was married) they got pregnant with me before she found out he was married and already had two kids.

Over the last ten years a man we’ll call BB has been searching for me. BB didn’t know my full name nor did he know where I live. Not until his aunt told him my mothers maiden name.

After finding one of my younger sisters, he found me, weirdly enough, via a post I made on Bullyville.com.  From there he found my mother, and then he decided to call my mom at work and ask to get a hold of me. She told him she would talk to me about it.

She did.

-Edit, five hours later-

Now I sit here on my balcony, trying to wrap my head around all this information, and I am not sure how I feel about it. It would make a damn good documentary.

Knowing me, I will in fact try to document it all. Just for …I dunno, so maybe one day I can look back and try to understand. So far I have spoken with the one brother, BB, and his sister, erm my sister, and sent a message to one of the youngest sisters via facebook…there are still two more to communicate with. It feels scary.

For most of my life it has been my brother and myself and mom, now its my brother mom and oh yeah brother and sister(s). They want to know me, to be a part of my life to know who I am and they want me to know who they are, to be a part of their lives.

I have never had a close knit family – I’ve always wanted one but I haven’t ever had one. For a lot of years I felt like Mogli from the jungle book – a human baby raised by wolves – only in my case I was the black baby raised by white people. I don’t know how to be black, and yeah I get many people won’t understand what that means.

I don’t know anything about these family members, other than we share blood, and an absentee father I have no interest in meeting or speaking with. I know that the one sister, just a few years older than I, both hurt our middle fingers on our left hand, I know that we all shared at one point a penchant for fighting and anger, but have cooled our temperaments over the years.

I know that a relationship with these people will come in time – we are all too much alike not to want to get to know each other, to meet each other and try to repair some of the damage that he caused.

I do not call him dad – which is weird, only because over the years I used to refer to him as “my dad” when I spoke about him. Now he is just, Keith, or you know a variation of other rude disturbingly cruel things I won’t post here.

I should be sleeping, SNBG is getting ready for pride tomorrow I should be resting but its one thirteen am and all I can think is, we don’t even share a name.

When he walked away from us – and walk away he did, six fucking times – he stole our right to know each other, to share memories and even share a name. He took that from us. I am so damn angry at him for that, and in a way I suppose, at the universe. In my heart I know that this is another part of the Ohna I have spent so much time looking for. Not the last piece by any stretch of the imagination, but a huge one none the less.

I just don’t even know. I am who I am, but who am I?

I was hoping that I would start to figure that out, now that I am growing up, not old but up, I am figuring out who I am as a person and what my role in the world is. Now though I wonder, “Who am I?”

I know that he doesn’t have any right to know me, but I wonder, do I have a right to know him? To ask questions I know he won’t be able to or care enough to answer? He’s a cab driver, and apparently an amazing carpenter. What else? Do I look like him? I guess if we decide to take a trip to Jamaica I’ll find out.

God damn, its times like these I really wish I had a partner to lean on – someone to hold me close and keep the darkness away because I don’t know if I can handle this all alone – and while many people who read this will say “but hey you aren’t alone, you have all these new siblings’ I still feel so damn alone.

Most everything anyone could ever want to know about me could be found in this blog, I’m not sure if they found it in their search, or how I feel about the fact that they may have – that they know more about me than I do about them. I am just so damn unsure.

But then again, thats what this site is all about…me trying to discover who I am and what makes me me…so here is to finding my ohna.

 

Syn D.

 

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