by Deborah Allan

Created on: July 31, 2010   Last Updated: August 09, 2010

Twenty eight years ago, my birth father made a decision that affected many people in my life. The decision that my father made was to not be a part of his first-born child's life. That child was me. Although I had not even been born yet, and he didn't even know me, he turned his back on his own flesh and blood.

I don't know how he made his decision. My mother has told me numerous times that he never gave her a reason. Her best guess was that he wasn't ready to be a father, and when I was younger I believed it, however, as I grew older I knew better. When my father left my mother, a teenager who was living at home, pregnant and afraid; he went to live with another woman, whom he married months later. When I was three my half-brother was born, so I draw my conclusion that there was more to his not being ready than that.

I grew up in my grandparents home, and it was wonderful. My mother lived there too, until I was four, but she was not the motherly figure you would expect her to be. Her mother, and my grandmother, was the person who raised me. She was there to comfort me when I had a bad dream. She was there when I needed help, or had a question. She fed and clothed me. My birth mother was more like my sister, and I was (and am) ok with that. My grandfather was like my dad. He did all the things with me that he did with his own kids, and never treated me any different. All was great. Who could complain?

I know it seems like all was well, but I have lived with many unanswered questions my entire life. Most of these questions could only be answered by my birth father. My problem, like I said earlier, was that my father was not in my life, and he never made any attempt to be. The thing that puzzled me most of all, is that my father lived just houses away. He had every opportunity in the world to call me or come visit, but he never did. His son, who was three years younger than I, was told by a family member that I was his sister. This was great news for him, as he always wanted a brother or a sister, so when we would play together with our friends, we would talk, and try to get to know eachother. He would tell me things about himself and I the same to him. We became great friends and as we grew up we actually became brother and sister. When our father and his wife had their second child, a sister, she too got to know me outside of her family. It was all done in secret, as our father and thier mother must never find out, for fear that we would get in trouble.

I loved

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