Origin.

Five days.

Forty-seven years minus five days ago was the moment I was taken from her arms – taken from all I knew – her heartbeat, her voice, her smell, my only known home. Ripped from everything I knew as comfort, torn from all peace inside.

Only we, the “adopted” know this feeling… but can never truly give it a name.
Others could never understand. Even we barely can.

Forever betwixt and between, never knowing ourselves – making it up as we go along, constructing and tearing down walls built around our hearts to try to have the slightest bit of control over who leaves who this time… destroying any chance of happiness… we don’t deserve it. We aren’t like the others…

We hide.

Only in finding are we somehow made whole – sometimes. The lucky ones. Only the children who needed to search, and then, only those who were fortunate enough to find their origin.

Origin. Where the shape of our eyes, the slant in our smile, the small everysingleday actions of our hands, the pain we don’t even notice in our heart anymore because it has always been there and always will be and it is just who we are… the emptiness our only connection to where we come from…

I have been fortunate. I found her. My Mother. After actively searching for over 25 years, wondering and creating fantasies for an entire lifetime (maybe I am David Bowie’s son?!) – I found her. Alive, welcoming, and only a three hour drive away.

This year I am spending my 47th birthday with my Mother – the first birthday I have ever spent with her – excepting of course the few minutes of the night I was born.

It was Kat’s idea. My girlfriend, my love, my partner, my best friend. She is making it happen – driving us up there, the third time I will see my Mother. The first time Kat & Annie will meet.

This writing is crappy – I am just – so incredibly overwhelmed… 15 years ago I took my gun out of my mouth, thinking “what if tomorrow is just a little bit better”?. Two years ago I was in a hospice, fighting like fucking hell just to stay alive. I had no idea what the future held, just that I wanted to be around for it…

I couldn’t have imagined how amazing my life has become – couldn’t have even dared to dream something even remotely close to this…

But here I am. I found my Birth Mother, and have found the Love of my life – the woman who I have been searching for, who I had nearly given up on actually finding… and as an added bonus, she says she loves ME, too!

Five days. My first birthday with my Mother, my first of many with Kat…

Yeah. So… life is fucking amazing. Well worth the fight to stay alive… and it just keeps getting better.

Even though I am not David Bowie’s love child.

in my heart

How can you say that you’re my solution?
I choose this or none at all

I choose you through all the pain

all the hells I have traveled to be my goddess, my queen

And I cannot say anymore about you – what you are is what you are and I am for you

but I WILL say a final thing… that you are in my heart true.

HOW can you say that you are my solution? You never did …

And that is why I love you.

 

thoughts on

take it as it comes.
Few are as blessed as this exquisite bonding, this dream… and I had given myself up to knowing nothing like her could ever come my way…

 

but then she fucked up everything I thought I knew, and did.

Still, i take it as it comes – and we both give.
What is this?

I need to figure out how to give her more – I  don’t feel like I am enough. Not for her… not for what I could be

for her…

bones

She reads.
All of me – all of my life, my loves, my mistakes, my small triumphs…

She reads it all. Every. Fucking. Word… that I have written

– except for the seven handwritten journals, the countless bar napkins, torn pieces of paper that needed the ink in my heart, all of the words that have been tossed out of a car window to decay, to rot…

but perhaps those again in time… I hope not. Far too much rot.

She reads, rattles the bones of my past. I gave her permission. She didn’t need to ask, but – she did.
When she finds something that speaks to her, she says little but the date, sending it to me in a message. Sometimes, with her own few words or part of mine.

Where did I find you?
How much will you cost?

Rattle and cast these bones, tell me what they say.

I will pay any price for you – but I will not give everything.
I will keep this language and its source – the boiling in my blood, the passion in this heart… but I give my heart to you.

Not sure how that works… but it does.

You remind me of who I have been.

You remind me of who I am.

Is it odd to shed tears for a past that can’t be brought back?