I think I've always known on some level that my Dad wasn't my Dad. He was always more of this amazing movie star cowboy image conjured up in my six year old head. In my mind he was so good looking. And so tall. And he loved me so much. And he thought about me every single day and missed me so much. And that was the story I told myself. In reality, he was good looking. And charismatic. And only about 5 foot 9. He was a broken little boy that never got over his Mother's death when he was a teenager. He got married very young and he got married a lot. My Mother was his second wife. It was factually stated that the only good thing that came out of their marriage was me, and even that wasn't true. I have spent my life trying to put all the pieces in place and make sense of it all. I was not working with much.
Fast forward to 2011. I am 42. Divorced after 20 years with the same guy that produced a son and a daughter. And remarried to the boy I fell in love with in High School. The boy that made me feel safe after a childhood filled with confusion and abuse peppered with moments of love. Everyone on the family tree is dead now. Dad died first in May, 1992. He died of cancer and it was heartbreaking. Granddaddy died soon after that same year. Right after Thanksgiving. He was suffering. His death brought peace. And left my grandmother lonely and lost. She died in 1996. I was with her as she took her last breath. Then my Mom died August 28, 2002 from complications of her Diabetes. She was 54. My world turned gray. There was no color for so very long. Then Pampaw Shockler died a few years ago and his beautiful wife soon after. Mamaw was saved from her Alzheimers and that was that. I was an orphan. It was just Geri and me. And fuck everyone that says she's my "half" sister. They have no idea what they are talking about. She's my sister. And that is all. And I have Linda. My Dad's 4th and last wife. She's battling breast cancer as I type. It all feels so tragic and sad.
And that leads us back to if you're in a pickle call Pirkle. So I did. I called Larry Pirkle. I called him when I was in my mid 30's. And I called when I was 39. And 41. And I called yestereday. And he called me back this time. I asked him if he remembered my Mother. He did. His tone of voice was nostalgic. I told him that there were clues all along the way. The time he came to Aunt Nig's funeral when I was still a teenager. He approached me at Mount Olivet Cemetery and asked me if I was Judy's daughter. I said yes. He told me to give her his best. He did not speak to her himself. Just left me with this vague memory in my head of this man who obviously cared about my Mother. When I said his name to her something changed in her eyes and her breathing stopped. It was visceral. We both knew and she said nothing. NOTHING. She never explained who he was or how she knew him. I still don't know what the connection is. I don't know if he went to High School with my Mother or if she knew him from my Aunt's county & western bar. That was a pivotal moment. I started to wonder even more after getting pregnant with my second child and finding out I was A- in bloodtype full well knowing my parents were both O+. I saw my Dad's on his dog tags and Mom had such an extensive medical history I saw her bloodtype on her many medical records. She was 0+. When my Mom died I started calling relatives. I asked Linda. I asked my Uncle Randy. No one would give me any answers. After Pampaw died Linda Harrell announced to me she had been carrying around "the secret" that "almost killed her". She told me my Mom went to a party and there was a man named Larry Pirkle that she really cared about and she was sworn to secrecy regarding the facts of my Mother's pregnancy. Needless to say, my "Aunt" Linda Harrell can kiss my ass forever and ever. Horrible woman, but that's another story for another day. All of this leads me to finding Larry. Turned out he has owned a Bail Bonds company in the area for 23 years. We have probably passed each other a million times in a million ways. So he called me back. And I gave him some back story and tried not to cry as I talked far too much and far too fast out of nerves. I wanted him to know I do not want anything from him. He told me he was not surprised to get this call. He always thought this day would come. He said "I want to see you". What a nice thing to say to a girl who has not had a Dad in her life her whole life. I just had a made up movie star cowboy Dad in my mind who lived in Texas who I visited a dozen times in my life. And I had a stepDad who sexually abused me. That is not much to work with. And at age 42 I hear "I am not surprised by this call" and "I want to see you". I do not want to set myself up for heartbreak. It's a long way down and I barely have my emotional footing after a tragic, heart wrenching divorce that was based on lies and secrets too. So we will see how this particular story line plays out. I feel oddly whole. We never lose our need for our Dad and our Mom. Ever.
