To follow up my last post about making contact with my bio-dad, let me be a little more clear about what led up to this and then I’ll tell you what happened.
Basically I found out that my father’s wife had sent me a message via social media two years ago but it was filtered. No this was WAY before my mother passed away.
I decided that I would have likely responded sort of politely back then and that it could have appeared that I was being rude because I hadn’t replied.
I sent a message back explaining what happened and was showered with salutations and words of affection from his wife. Things like ‘we miss you’, ‘we’re so worried about you!’, ‘your father is so happy I talked to you!’ ‘Sorry about your mother, I’m here for you and so is your father.’…
I was given numbers to call and when I asked, I was given his schedule for the week including his days off: Thursday-Sunday, and the best time to call on Thursday. I replied that I would call Thursday.
That was where I left all of you Wednesday night; me a nervous wreck, almost ill from anxiety.
It had been days since the initial contact and in my mind I wandered why, if my father was so concerned, so happy that I made contact, then why had he been silent after I got in touch? All messages came from his wife, conveying his supposed thoughts and feelings. He could have easily sent a message as well, to communicate with me himself. He didn’t. Why?
Thursday morning I was so nervous I couldn’t stand it but I waited until it would be 9:45 a.m. his time before I called to give him time to be up and eat. I called his cell phone to have a better chance of getting him instead of his wife (when I was younger she’d make me talk to her for a long, long time before finally letting me talk to my dad). The phone rang and…no answer. I heard his voice telling me to leave a message, which I did. I hadn’t heard his voice in at least ten years. I left my number and told him if he didn’t have free long distance he could call and I would call right back because I do have free long distance.
I sat by the phone and waited nervously for my dad to call back, playing possible conversations back and forth in my head. An hour went by…three…five…ten. No call. I sent his wife a message via the same social media saying that I had called, left a message, not heard back and that when he wanted to talk to me, he could call me.
It’s Friday night and almost 10:00 p.m. where my father is. He hasn’t called nor have I heard back from his wife.
Perhaps something bad happened and that’s why he hasn’t called. Yes, part of me is still hoping for a good reason even though I swore never to hope in this man again.
I can’t help but think that if it had been me and my child whom I hadn’t spoken to in over ten years, and who had lost her mother, was calling me for the first time, I would be by that phone all day waiting, and if by some chance I missed her call, I would be checking my messages and calling her back immediately.
But that’s just me I guess. I’m sitting here thinking that he’ll call tomorrow and give me a really good, really legitimate reason for not calling me back and we’ll move on to seeing if we can even have some sort of relationship. If he calls, I plan on asking him why he’s waited and why he wasn’t around when his own wife said he would be. It needs to be good. Really good. I’ve waited on this man too much in my life already.