It suddenly occurred to me yesterday while I was in church that it was my oldest stepson's 45th birthday. The date on the bulletin sorta jumped out at me and grabbed my attention. After church, I attempted to call him and wish him a "Happy Birthday," and catch up on his life for the last few years, but got no answer at the number dialed for me by directory assistance. (I love how they do that when you're calling from a cell phone.) After I got home from lunch at Amerigo's, I tried again, but got an intercept message saying the number I called had been disconnected.
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Okay, I'll google him, I thought. Using "David Frederick" and "Huntsville AL" as the search words, I learned there is more than one person with that name in Huntsville. The number listed in White Pages is the disconnected number I'd called earlier. He and Patrick are still listed at the address I have, but with the telephone number not working, I'm wondering if the address is also no longer valid.
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From Google, I learned that David is a Democrat and has contributed to more than one Democratic candidate. I'd love to talk to him about this year's election. But the most interesting thing I learned from Google is that he and Patrick are breeding Cavalier King Charles Spaniels. And it was with this info that I found an email address, so I've sent him a birthday message that way. Let's hope it works. And David, if you ever google yourself, perhaps you will find this blog and learn that I spent a good amount of time on your 45th birthday thinking about you and wishing I could talk to you. I hope it was a happy day for you.
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I could have cut the search short by simply calling Carla or Randy, but I rarely ever talk to them either. I get queasy at the thought, and it's not them, it's me. They've always been open and gracious to the few overtures I've made toward them, but the betrayal that separated us still stands between us, making conversation awkward and uncomfortable. It was 23 years ago and still hurts like hell everytime I think about it.
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They don't blame me, I know, but I was the one who drew the line in the sand and said, "no more!" I was the one who so naively thought I could bring their dad to his senses by kicking him to the curb like a bag of garbage, and that we would be reconciled and all be one big happy family again, magical thinking to the max. I was the one who shut the door to him and his unfaithful ways. I was the one who made a public spectacle out of a private tragedy. I didn't want to lose him, but I did, and with the loss of the dad, the loss of the step-children was inevitable. It's still one of the unhappiest chapters in my life's story; I was the jilted one, but I feel guilty - co-dependent to the core, I know. It regularly haunts my dreams, but I have happy dreams about them, too. We had 10 years together as a family, and I have way more happy memories of those times than sad.
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Their dad died in 1995 of lung cancer. His third wife has remarried, I learned last year at the Plantersville reunion. Several others in his family have died. And life goes on. I just wish I didn't feel so alienated from those who are still living and could be a little more involved with them as "life goes on." What stops me? What is holding me back? It's a recurring theme in dreams, and I'm working on it.
Here's the last picture we had made together as a family in 1982 or '83. The birthday boy is in the back. Happy Birthday, David!