There isn't a Neil song to title this one after...

(For five days I have sat on this blog unwilling to post it. It was a rambling of things I was feeling and I just wanted to write them down. There are countless rantings that I do that no one ever sees, which is probably a good thing. A friend of mine asked me yesterday what was wrong so I decided to post it. It's not well written or even gramatically edited, and will probably leave you confused. But I could care less about those things right now,)


“With the good comes the bad.” That’s the story of my life. Most people would say they would welcome the bad just to have the good. I am not most people.

Four years ago Chris and I divorced. Oddly enough, that was a personal high in my life! I was free from a loveless marriage and able to stay friends with the man I’d shared the biggest part of my life with. How lucky I was to have that! I had my kids, my freedom and had no cares in the world. Not a month later my world crashed around me. The turmoil that I went through secretly for four months nearly ended me. I’d felt I’d lost everything. I lost 25 pounds in a month, went through a stage where I cared very little about what I looked like, and I drank more than I should have. Finally unwilling to take this pain on by myself any longer, I decided to share it with the one person I thought would never turn their back on me. That didn’t end well. My only option was escape. I talked to my ex-husband and told him I would be moving and he supported me. So I did. My family wasn’t very happy about this spur of the moment decision, but if I was going to get through this I had to do it anyway. So I moved to Florida. I had a handful of friends and I could be someone that no one knew again. I was on my own and doing something most single mothers would be terrified to do. I was happy. And therein lies the problem. I got so comfortable being happy over the next few months that I didn’t notice the changes going on in my ex-husbands life. The woman he was seeing was filling his head with ‘realistic notions’ of how a divorced couple were supposed to act, and sadly he was listening. Threats were thrown and my lawyer suggested I move back to Alabama to avoid the possibility of losing my house there.  I was finally happy again and I didn’t WANT to leave! But I had no choice.

So I went back to Alabama with nothing but the miserable. I didn’t want to be there! But like a trooper, I play the hand that has been dealt me and I carry on. I sweep all my problems into a corner of the room and throw every rug in the house over them and I put my fake smile on and live my life. I lived a big life of solitude for the following year. No interest in making friends or anything. I was active in church, but that was fake too. Not my relationship with God, but the desire to be at the church I was at. I tried to do what I thought would be best for my kids, but that eventually ended as well. Sadly, yes I stopped going to church all together. Although I never stopped talking to God, I should have stayed in church-just a different one. My life wasn’t getting any better on the inside.

My second summer home was mostly spent here at my house. I had gotten my own pool so that I wouldn’t even have to go to my parents to take my kids swimming. Not much more than that. I muddled through the school year, staying busy at the school and trying to find time to be alone. I had become friends with a girl from baseball and we started doing things together. When my third summer living back in Jasper rolled around, I’d have to say that I spent the biggest part of that summer drunk. It was nice. For a while anyway. I could easily see myself as an alcoholic because I enjoy drinking my problems away. Knowing this about myself, I know that I would never allow that to happen.

I got through the next school year the same way as the one before. Keeping busy. Not allowing myself time for any sort of personal fulfillment. I was made fun of, called a hermit and a recluse, but I didn’t care. With happiness comes disaster right? Over the course of the previous three years I had gone on three ‘actual’ dates. All of which were just first dates. I never went on a second date with any of them. Last thing I wanted was a man in my life complicating things. As the school year closed, for whatever reason I decided to try a different approach at ‘dating’. I was going to go at it from a man’s angle. It was fun for a while, then I got attached. It was like throwing a tree hugger in the middle of a battlefield with a loaded M-16. What the hell am I supposed to do with this?! You don’t give feelings to a person who doesn’t know what to do with them! You should probably feel sorry for the person on the receiving end of these feelings.

So here I am four years later. Time for an emotional high! I find my biological father, go see him, talk to him and get the internal peace that I’ve needed for twenty years! I was on top of the world! Nothing could bring me down…right?

Of all the lows I’ve had in my life, nothing has hurt me more than the one I was about to face. In an agonizing process that has taken four years to complete, I have all but lost my best friend.  It’s hard watching something that you need so badly in your life wither away and die. The nail in the coffin (as the saying goes) were the words  “I don’t want to hear about anything unless it’s good.” when I went  to them about silly relationship problems. How do you come back from that?  I can be fake-happy for everyone else, but why should I have to be with you? The pain of losing this closeness with this person over the past month alone has left me feeling more alone than I’ve ever felt. I haven’t done a very good job at handling all the things that are going on in my life all at once, the highs or the lows. I know my inability to deal with them has hurt people around me, and that makes me sad. Maybe one day I can learn to focus on the good and filter out the bad. Until then, I keep my guard up always leery of things being good in my life. Hopeful that one day I can let that go.

I am quite a backwards person when it comes to my emotions. I’ve been this way for years. When I’m worried, I get mad. When I’m mad, I cry. When I’m sad, I work harder at my ‘fake happy’.  When I’m happy, I get scared. When I’m scared, I make jokes… I spend the biggest part of my life making jokes.

I am...I said

I have his feet. Thirty-six years old and it was as if I was seeing my own child's feet for the first time.

I've sat here for ten minutes since I wrote that first line...During the six hours it took me to get home from meeting this man I've called Sperm Donor for the biggest majority of my life, all I could think about were the words I would write when I was able to sit down. Now I'm blank. Me going blank (especially in a written manner) is an unheard of phenomenon. You can ask the few underprivileged souls who have fallen victim to my written thoughts! This is the second time today I've gone blank. The first time was around 11:00 this morning.

I sat on the street across from his house for over an hour in the rain this morning trying to get up the nerve to get out of my car. I watched the lady he lives with go in and out of the house, muddling around doing things and it made me smile. Wondering if she was a romantic partner of his? And, if he was the same person as he used to be, how could she live with him? Then I would wonder what he was doing inside. The last memory of him being inside the house was when I was ten years old. He was generally laying around half naked (if not completely) daring anyone with his terrifying presence to disturb him. So...part of me was afraid to go in. Would I be disturbing him? I sat there and prayed for several different things during that hour. First, for God to tell me in advance the words I would say to HER (which He granted). Then for the words that I would say to him. That request wasn't as easy I guess, because I got nothing. Then I just asked Him to basically shove me out of the car and wing it as I go! This seemed to be His method of choosing.

I walked up to the door and forced myself to knock. All the while taking in my surroundings, trying to familiarize myself with the environment I suppose. Not ever really liking being in a environment in which I cant control. I noticed the age of the house, the age of the things laying around. The clutter. Thinking immediately "I wonder if this is where I get it from?!". When the lady I'd already come to recognize over the past hour came to the door and smiled a sweet smile as she greeted me. I called her by her name and introduced myself just as Melodie, then asked her if Dennis was there. When she said she would go get him, I purposely turned my back to the door. Not wanting her to see my face if he said "Tell her to go away", and not wanting to watch him walk up if he came to the door. I listened to her talk to him through a door inside, telling him a young lady named Melodie was here to see him. But I couldn't hear his response. Then I heard the glass door open and I turned around to see this frail old man standing there. With nothing but kindness in his eyes for the stranger he was standing in front of. He didn't recognize me. But then, how could he. I had only seen him once for about two hours when I was sixteen. And the time before that I was age eleven, I believe. He came outside on the porch and offered me to sit down in one of the chairs and he sat in the one across from me. I thought for a moment "Maybe he does know who I am and is just proceeding cautiously. Why else would he invite a stranger to sit down to chit chat." Then it was clear he had no idea who I was. He made the comment that 'Not many young ladies come to visit him anymore' and I smiled. I told him my name again adding Kimbrell to the end. Still no response. I could see he was trying hard to recollect something that wasn't there. We'd been sitting down for all of about thirty seconds when I just came right out and said the words I wondered for twenty years if I would get the chance to say, "I'm your daughter.". The eyes of this old man, whom I've spent my whole life hating, lit up like a child walking into the living room on Christmas morning. He stood up immediately and walked past me, which concerned me for a moment. He called his female friend to the door and began explaining very excitedly to her that I was his daughter. She looked, well...shocked. Clearly she had no clue as to my existence. Mid sentence to her, he turns back around to me and hugs me before I'm even aware of what is happening. This is the first time in twenty years I've seen this man and now he's hugging me. Five minutes ago, sitting in the car, all the scenarios from the night before were coming to my mind and this was not one of them. I'd imagined him closing the door in my face. I imagined him telling me blatantly to go to Hell. I imagined him being cordial and uncaring. But not....happy. Happy to see me? This I wasn't prepared for.

I think his nervousness eased mine a little. Yet I still kept my purse pulled close to me. Feeling a tad secure just in the knowledge that it might would take a few seconds, but I could have my Glock in my hands if I needed to. This may sound over dramatic, but in knowing him and the things I know of his past, over dramatic isn't the word. Prepared is more the word.

They invited me in and we stood in the small foyer. I was asked to sit again, and again he sat across from me. I wasn't saying much at this point, mostly just answering simple quick questions asked out of what can really only be described as excitement. We sat there for probably another thirty seconds when he asked me to come to his part of the house. Which was kind of like a small apartment in the back. All I could think of was my kids following suit of what I was doing! Following a strange man into a house! But with my purse in hand, I followed him. For a third time in probably less than three minutes, I was invited to sit down. Taking a quick glance around, my question to myself on the front porch was immediately answered. YES, this man is definitely where I get my 'clutter trait' from!

I cant even begin to guess how many times he said "This is such a wonderful surprise!" during the four hours I spent with him. The things we talked about are trivial facts for this blog. I know there were many moments in the first hour that I could feel that I could probably tear up if I didn't maintain control of my emotions. He told stories of when I was little. REALLY little. He remembered my middle name. He told me to go to college. He could see my independence. I didn't tell him the long life story of how I came to be the strong willed independent woman I am today. There was no talk of anything negative what so ever. There were no apologies for the past, and I didn't expect those. I didn't expect anything for that matter. I left whatever happened in that house up to God, and had I written down how I'd wanted it to go before hand, I couldn't have written it any better.

He asked if I was hungry, and offered to cook. He went to put his shoes on to go eat in town and I had to assure him I was fine. He made coffee....I drank coffee with my biological father today.

He asked if I wanted to stay the night because of the remnants of the hurricane bringing in rain on my route home. I thanked him anyway. He was ready to make up one of the beds in a guest room. This tickled me.

As we talked during those four hours I could see so much of myself in him. Wondering all the while if hobbies and being a clutter bug were really genetic traits! We talked about the pictures of me and my Mom I have hanging in my room that he took and developed by hand when I was probably seven. And how I love to take pictures too. We talked about traveling, and how we are both the same when it comes to our love to just drive. We talked about rocks...

This man spent seven years living in the woods in California in a tent. Not because he was poor and had to, but because this was the life he chose for himself. His dream was to always pan for gold in the mountains. And he did. (I'll come back to this) When Chris and I were married, every where we would live, I would choose a special rock to add to the collection of rocks with memories. At one point I had about ten rocks that I cherished. The boys have played with most of them and have lost the biggest part of them. My kids know how much I love rocks and will bring me rocks from the playground, or special looking rocks they find while out on their woodsy excursions. Rocks have always been special to me. That may sound odd, but it was my thing. It would seem it's Dennis's thing as well. He showed me his rock collection from when he was panning for gold in California. Which were much nicer than mine! Three large very nice unique stones. Bags full of tiny shiny stones he saved while looking for the golden ones. He told me about the gold he would find, and how he could live off of what he found out there each month. Then he showed me this tiny glass vial with tiny pieces of gold he spent the past three years searching for endlessly in the mountains in Tennessee. I left today with those rocks and that tiny vial of gold. Feeling as if I'd just been given an inheritance from a wealthy father who'd forgotten me.

His nervous excitement never let up during the entire visit. Twice we walked downstairs to go outside so he could show me something. The first time to show me where he feeds his birds and squirrels. Then the second time because he forgot to show me the rocks while we were down there. Is scatterbrained a genetic trait? Because we have that in common too. Any time he would think of some little something he wanted to show me, he would jump up (generally with a pain or a limp) and quickly look for what he wanted to show me. He was up and down a lot. I felt like a silly little girl excited over the attention.

Knowing it was time to go because I had to drive home, I could see the desire for me to stay longer in his eyes. And honestly, I was enjoying visiting. But I knew I had to go. Both of us, the picture crazy people we are, walked to the once foreboding front porch with our cameras in hand. Me and my 'fancy' little digital camera and him with his off brand, probably thirty year old film camera that he had to use a nail to push the shutter button because it had broken so many years ago. I couldn't help but feel the desire to replace that camera for him. As his female friend took our picture together a million thoughts ran through my mind. Mostly...that this is the ONLY picture I have of me with this man. I kindly asked her to take two, knowing that they wouldn't be any different, but at least I'd have two.

He walked me to my car. The Cadillac I almost didn't buy because as a child I recalled Dennis always loving them. The smile on his face and his words of approval of it told me he still did. Standing there in the rain as he was putting the three five pound rocks in my back floor board, I couldn't help but wonder if I would ever see him again. Should I even? He hugged me once and asked me if I needed money for the trip. Oh God at the thoughts that ran through my mind at that! The man who CAUSED me to despise taking anything of monetary value from a man just offered me money for my trip home! I kindly told him no, wondering if he even had any money he could give me. Then he hugged me again and kissed me quickly on the cheek. Neither of us even aware of the rain. As I was getting in my car he was telling me again how glad he was I came and to call any time. Then the last words he said to me was "I love you". Not in a sentimental 'I should have been there for you all along' kind of way. But in a 'This is what I say to my daughter as she leaves' kind of way. I waved as I drove off. As I drove away it occurred to me. This man that I've spent my life hating, the man who has caused more trauma to my self esteem than anyone, the man who four hours earlier had forgotten he even had a daughter named Melodie, is the first and only man who's ever stood in the middle of the street in the rain waving to the back of my car as I drove away.

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How poetic and perfectly written if the blog would just end there. But it doesn't. This isn't a perfect "girl finds her Daddy and lives happily ever after" kind of story. Mainly because, I already have a Daddy. This is more like one of those stories that you start to write and never get around to finishing and stick in a drawer some where. Going in to this, people would ask me what I was looking to get out of seeing him again. I honestly couldn't give a intelligent answer to that question. To say 'closure' seemed so stereotypical, yet that was all I could come up with. To forgive a man within myself for things he may not even be aware that he caused. Not for what he did to my Mother or my brother, they have to find that themselves if they even want it. This was all about me. Does sitting down for four fairy tale hours with the man make me trust men any more? Nope. Does it make me feel any less inadequate for being female? Not at all. Tomorrow if a guy I care about offers to give me money to spend on a vacation I'd be taking without him, would I take it? Absolutely not! I am who I am now. Nothing can change that. I LIKE who I am! Insecurities and inadequacies and all! Do I begrudge him for making me who I am now though? No I don't...Had he stuck around in my life and always been there, being the person that he was then, I'd probably be this frail timid little girl who lets men walk all over her. Who's scared to say how I feel because it might upset someone. Not trusting men has made me cautious (not always fail proof, but aware anyway). Not feeling equal to men has made me fight harder to be the strong independent type female I am. I'll never go without saying what I feel because in all the life lessons I've gone through I've learned that you only get one chance to make who you are tomorrow. No regrets. And sitting here now, I can honestly say I have no regrets. None. Not with past issues in my life or with current ones. Because I KNOW that while I may not be perfect, I can walk away from anything saying I will not have regrets. It took me fifteen years to find this man, and I almost didn't go yesterday. Had it not been for Chris making me, I may not have. I wasn't sure I was ready, but he assured me that I was. And that I could handle whatever happened. I thank him for that. He understood what I needed, and what I didn't need. I didn't even mention it to Chris until yesterday afternoon. We don't really talk about personal things much anymore, so he had no clue I'd been sitting on Dennis' number for a week. But he was the one who's been there for me for the past fifteen years with all of this, so I decided to just update him and he went from there. And now, I cant wait for him to get here in the morning so I can tell him all about it. Chris is another aspect of my life where I have no regrets. There are days I cant stand the man, and I'm sure he cant stand me. But we will always have a bond and no one knows me better than he does. I've always "blamed" Chris and Dennis for being big parts of making me who I am. Now I find myself thanking them.