VIII. Roll the credits…not so fast. We found a few more reels.

So had this been a made for TV movie the credits would have rolled over the little video I shared. We all know in reality that life goes on after the cameras stop rolling. The bliss of reunion must giveaway to the inevitable exchanges of truth.

Truth is often messy and uncomfortable, until it isn’t. It can transform into shared truth, a bond.

Although we stumbled around a bit in our first few phone calls, we found our “groove” pretty quickly. Michael is a no BS type of guy. I really appreciate that about him. We quickly began conversing openly and freely about sometimes emotionally taxing and embarrassing to say out loud topics. In the beginning I found myself limiting the duration of these calls as they were bringing up memories and emotions that I had avoided for many years. It was best that I bite off small bits. They were very accommodating and allowed me to set the tempo. We finally found a formula that worked for us. In each call we would talk about ‘heavy issues’ for awhile and then make sure we shared and got to know each other as individuals who had just met and were becoming friends. We share a similar sense of humor. Being able to laugh at much of this was very beneficial for us all. We probably would have pursued a friendship if we had just met at a social gathering and had not been related.

There were certainly more than a few awkward questions and answers that Michael, Michelle and I had for one another. What were the circumstances around my mother and “our” father getting together? Did he know about me? Did his wife, their mother, know? Who else might have known? What parts of this story would we share with family and what parts would we choose to keep between the three of us? When and how would we tell family, on both sides?

There were a number of discussions about Alice. Questions came up for both of us that only she could have shed light on. It hadn’t occurred to me, until we started having these conversations, that Michael and Michelle would have the same curiosity about her as I did about Peter. I was curious as well. I opened my phone contacts and starred at her number. Only a year ago I had reached out to her. I had opened myself to the pain of rejection and had been rejected… I pushed the dial button, it rang once…and I hung up. No need to travel down that road any longer. Would I believe anything she said even if she chose to take my call? Did I want to invite that darkness into the light I was basking in? Later that evening I noticed a missed call and voicemail on my phone. It was Alice.

“This is Alice. Don’t ever call my home again. Get on with your life”

There was disdain and venom in her voice. It was obvious that she is still carrying a great deal of pain from the past. I knew that cargo. I had carried it to long. I realized that I was no longer carrying it. I truly felt for her. I just wanted her to know that I appreciated the part she played in my grand life by bringing me into this world. I may write her a letter expressing this one day. My intention is that she let go, let God and be content in the knowledge that I am happy and fulfilled. I was only seeking remnants of memories she might have of my father.

Nature vs Nurture

I would have argued nurture (external conditions that influences one development) over nature ( genetic predisposition absent of external influences that affect our development) determined ones character and inclinations before all this started to unfold. I firmly believed that my mom, who showed me unconditional love, the one who raised me, taught me wrong from right and modeled appropriate conduct, was the reason I am who I am. I still know this to be true but, the more I found out about the Hax family, that idea began to be refined to include nature as a prominent player in my development. Mom certainly influenced me but I now know I was genetically predisposed to be how and who I am. I was never like the brothers and sisters I was raised with yet they were raised by the same wonderful mom. They had the same negative programming I had received from Harley, although maybe not with the same severity. I always struggled to fit in.

I am not disparaging or making judgments about my brothers and sisters I grew up with, only acknowledging that we are fundamentally different in our approaches to life in general. Different is not necessarily bad, its just different. I still love them dearly and have golden memories of our childhoods together. On the other hand, the similarity’s I share with the Hax family are uncanny. Physical characteristics aside, of which there are many, we are very like minded, share the same values and perspective on life. Family is very important to us all. Family is everything!

I don’t want it to appear that we all just fell head over heals, blindly into this. We are all reasonable and rational people who are very aware that other than the DNA we share, we started all of this as total strangers. But I will say this. There was an instant connection I experienced, one like I had never known, from the first phone call. I tried to deny and explain it away. I could not. I felt bonded in a way I had never known. That bond has deepened over time. There is a spiritual component to all of this. This is ‘supposed’ to be happening. I don’t think we could stop it if we tried and, as far as I can tell, none of us have any intention of trying to.

We never lost sight of the delicate nature of our situation. The widows could not know which meant that extended and even close family could not know for the time being, if ever. Michael did inform one of our sisters, Teresa, about me shortly after our first contact. She did not have the same reaction as he. She was, understandably, very shocked and hurt. Her reaction is what I would have considered normal and expected. This was changing her history, her image of her father, her family structure. She chose not to pursue contact with me at that time. Michael and Michelle had already become very protective of me, always reassuring me that their family was in this for the long haul. I reassured them that I would always leave the door cracked for all of my new family should they ever want to join the party.

It is a healing party for all those who choose to attend. They are sharing stories about my dad and brother, the best story’s. In doing so we are healing our loss. Loss of loved ones, loss of opportunities, making up for lost time. In remembrance, joyful memories can temper grief. I am getting to know my father and brother thru their shared memories. It is a party that can go on indefinitely. Nobody wants to leave.

After a few months of getting to know each other over many phone chats, having gotten the awkward and somewhat messy conversations out of the way, we started talking about a physical reunion. On impulse, with only a few days notice, I decided to drive the 500 miles to Michael and Michelle’s in early November. The holidays were fast approaching and If I didn’t do it now, I wasn’t sure when I would be able to.
I needed a physical encounter, to be in their presence, to prove or disprove this growing attachment…I was missing people I had never actually met. I needed to meet them.