It isn't a fairy story, but it's my story. And my history, and my roots. The search is over, and reunion has slammed into me like a train.
I found Luke's father on Facebook. Luke's father is my father. Luke's mother is my mother. This is the story of how I happened.
They were high school sweethearts, in their way. She isn't the one with the taste in fast men - that came from him. She was a fast girl. He was her rock. They experimented - more a Bob Seger song than Barry Manilow. It was the seventies, and they were working on their night moves. And then...me. They were dealing with the fallout and leaning on each other. And then...Luke.
I have known my father less than a week; twenty-four hours now, and a few days in the hospital before my parents came to pick me up. I love him already. He's lovely and amazing. I wish I could take away his pain, which is real. I wish I could convince him that I love him as he is, and that I don't blame him for anything. He is very present. But he's hard on himself. I'm like him that way. First mothers say that they don't tell them what it will be like. That you look at the tiny faces and love them instantly. They don't tell us that we will look at their mature faces and love them instantly too. They don't tell us that it will be another family member; that their burdens will be our burdens, and their joys our joys, and that a connection can strike like lightning.
They don't tell you the things that you will hear that will break your heart won't be cruel, but kind.
- Sweetheart
- You're beautiful
- You're amazing
- I always wondered and hoped for you
- You are my daughter
- I want to be your son's grandfather, too
- You will live to be ninety
- Your great-grandfather was...
- You are just like me
Life is lovely and amazing.
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