I haven't met my biological father's mother.

Her name is Kathrine.

I think about her everyday. I dream about touching her, hugging her, listening to her stories. Lance, my bioogical father has been trying to call for the past few days. I called him back. We talked for a while about apples, and his friend Patrick, and I can't remember what else.

And then he casually states that his mom is flaking out.

She's in the hospital because she took too many pills and drank too much alcohol.

I've never faced her mortality as much as within the last 40 minutes or so. I need to meet her - I NEED to.

I always knew that maybe that wouldn't happen, but she called me right before school started and left a message. I called her back, left a message, and repeated the pattern a few times.
She hasn't called me back yet.

I've heard her voice. And that voice, that somehow was very familiar, said that it had always loved me. She's the one who is short and blonde, like me - like her. I never thought that she would be the one who would instigate her death. I thought it might be something more like getting trampled by a horse, or attacked by a bear (she has held the record for killing the largest bear in Arizona).

I don't feel hurt, but I do. I don't know her, but I do. I feel sad for her. She called the police and they came got her help. What does it feel like to know you're dying?

I'm tired of coming from a broken family line. My father doesn't know his father, and I went a good deal of my life without knowing mine. His grandpa lived about an hour away from me in Oklahoma, and I never knew until I read his obituary on-line...less than a month after he died. And now this elusive women who has me under some sort of spell is about to destroy my dream of holding her hand and secretly breathing in her hair. I want to go hold her in some hospital room in Arizona. Whenever Cora is sad I tell her that I'm scooping her up. And soon she is better.

I want to scoop my Kathrine up and tell her how much I love her and kiss her forehead.

1 comment:

  1. That would be so hard! Darrell's Dad passed away a few months before I met him from cancer, I have always felt sad that I never heard his voice or met him, just to sit with him and thank him for a great son! I can't imagine being in your shoes and handling that. It would be so hard- it's gives so much closuer to death if we've met them and been able to say what we needed to. When my Dad died I was so thankful to have been able to tell him i loved him and given him a hug the night before, had i not had that closer I don't think i would have handled his passing at all! Maybe if you aren't able to see her you could mail her a letter? I so don't know all the circumstances, but i'm sorry you have to go through this!!



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