humanity
Humanity begins at home.
My Story
My story is going to start from the beginning and end with the man in this picture, the man who is my husband. It started out with me being abandoned at birth by my birth father and it just being my mother. I was raised by my mother, grandfather and grandmother who is no longer with us and I miss her every day. My birth father never wanted anything to do with me ever. He was an alcoholic and not the kind of person you wanted in your life. I recently tried to reach out to him, I finally started to wonder. I mean I always wondered throughout my entire life who he was and what he was like, but at nearly 34 years of age I finally wanted to reach out. So I researched and scoped out Facebook for anyone I thought might know him, and guess what? I did it. I found someone. I talked to that person got to know them a little bit and asked if I could give them my number to give to him, so he could give him a call if he felt up to it. I guess I am a dreamer who dreamt up a dream to big because I waited for that call for 3 months and heard nothing from this man that is supposed to be my birth father. In a way I got my hopes up and thought that maybe, just a little bit of me thought just maybe he would call after nearly 34 years of not knowing or ever hearing anything about his daughter. I'm not the kind of person to ask anyone for anything. I don't want anything from him. All I am is a person wanting to know more about her birth father and where she came from. That all came crashing down when I found out that the person I gave my number to to give to him never actually gave him the number because he refused to take it. I was lied to for 3 months and told that he took it like I am some small child who's feelings are going to get hurt that he didn't really actually have my number. I went nearly 34 years of my life not knowing him and not even caring and my life has been one heck of a ride without him. I did not care as a child and I don't now. When I was around 1 years old another man came into my mom's life and he is now the man that I know as my father. He was there for my school Christmas concerts, band recitals, taught me how to ride a horse, when my first tooth fell out, taught me how to do math without a calculator, graduation, the birth of my daughter, and even walked me down the isle at my wedding. That is the man that I call my father. There are some good and bad things about him, but everyone has the good and bad things about them. He will always be my father for better or worse, no matter what.
By Lena Marie Chartrand5 years ago in Families
Being a Dad... on purpose
The word "father" carries with it a multitude of emotions and weight for me. The father with whom I share a genetic link was an addict. He was absent most of the time. He died while I was in college. And yet, there is no denying my eternal connection to him. I am in many ways a spitting image of his likeness. And I think I share many of his more positive attributes that have been told to me by those who knew and loved him in ways I was never able to.
By Chris Ashley5 years ago in Families
Unusual Love Story
Unusual Love story I have always found the movement of the train relaxing. The fast clacking of the steel wheels crashing into the rails, as if playing a game with each other but no one ever wins it, making the game to have no end. I enjoy the noise and it is so monotone that it helps me get my thoughts together; just close my eyes and let the train do its thing as I wait here and think.
By J. D. Smith5 years ago in Families
Who Would’ve Thought?
Bryson is a 45 year old financial consultant, who never married or had children. He lives in Brooklyn, NY, where he was born and raised, being the only child of James and Anne Williams. They were a close knit family until Bryson began letting his work consume him. Five years ago, Bryson was supposed to fly out to his parents home in Los Angeles for Christmas. However, he canceled on them because of work. They decided to fly out and surprise Bryson instead, but sadly never made it to New York. There was a snow storm, causing the pilot to lose control of the plane, and crash. Bryson’s parents died that night. The devastation and guilt overtook him, causing him to stop working and interacting with friends. No work meant no money coming in, and no money meant no bills were being paid. He had no real desire to live life fully, felt unworthy of happiness, and therefore found himself wandering through life aimlessly. After being evicted, he began sleeping on park benches, and after much searching, he finally found a hidden spot in his favorite park, Prospect Park, where he remained.
By Stephanie Jordan 5 years ago in Families
Kindness is Priceless
Michael sat on a chair in his son Jonathan’s room at the children’s hospital. He felt like it had been a century since he, along with his son, had been airlifted here, though it somehow had only been a few days. Jonathan had suddenly collapsed at home the other day and after a terrifying drive to the Emergency Room where Michael had gotten no answers at all, the doctor had called for a helicopter.
By Matthew Walker5 years ago in Families
Farm to Table or
Lucille looked down at the cast iron skillet on top of her range. “Sunnyside up,” she whispered. That is what her grandmother used to call fried eggs. She held the brown shelled egg in the palm of her right hand and thought, I’ve never tasted a fried egg as good as my grandmother made. She sighed. “And I’ve never been able to duplicate her technique,” she muttered.
By Mindy Reed5 years ago in Families
