When Two Words Are All You Need

I’ve had a few people ask me if “A Letter to my DNA Provider” had reached its intended audience. I wrote that letter straight off the cuff in one sitting and I really hadn’t put any thought into whether or not he would read it. I certainly didn’t consider what his reaction would be if he did. After I published it and noticed it racking up the view counts (many more than I ever dreamed), I said to myself, “Wow, he’s going to read this.” My stomach turned with anxiety. Part nerves and part excitement. It was like being on the free throw line at the end of the game and knowing you were going to be either the hero or the goat. But it had already been published. You have to take the shot.

After almost a month of over 1600 views and much discussion, I transferred the thought of him reading the post to the back of my mind. I even conceded that if he did read it, I would never know about it. He wouldn’t comment. He wouldn’t openly subject himself to that much criticism in a public forum. Maybe he’ll send me an email. Maybe he won’t do anything at all.

Two nights ago, when I should have been sleeping, I was browsing Facebook on my phone and a notification popped up at the top of the screen for just a couple of seconds. I glanced up to see the words, “Scott Griffin has replied to your post on WordPress.” The anxiety came back, but this time it was almost to the point of nausea. I stayed on the same page thinking that maybe if I didn’t acknowledge that I had seen the notification it would be as if it never happened. I didn’t move a muscle for five minutes. I knew if I opened and read that comment I would get no sleep.

There was no option. I had to open it. It had an answer in there. It may not be what I’m looking for but it is something. And I have to find out what it is.

The comment and my reply can be found here. I don’t know what I was expecting. Sunshine? Rainbows? An apology? Acceptance? I truly don’t know. What I got was a reply from a man who felt like he had been backed into a corner by a crowd of people he doesn’t know. In his words he was tried, convicted, and crucified by a group of people who only had one side of a story. He thought he was being judged. He went on the defensive. He made it about himself. How many dads out there would shut out a son who is actively trying to incorporate them into their life? I mean, he expects me to believe that I was “ripped” away from him but just dismisses my attempt to reconnect because a bunch of people he doesn’t know and won’t ever meet had some harsh words to say about him? Woooooooosh!

Those last two sentences will probably linger with me for some time. “So you can move on with your good life, chapter closed.” Not so fast. You DO NOT get to go out that way. Let me be clear here, “move on” is not an option because I never stopped moving. My life has been and will be good regardless of whether you are in it or not. You are just an un-credited extra in the movie of my life who refused to show up for his big audition. That’s it. And don’t try to ride out on your white horse and act like you are doing this for me. You know what I want. I’ve spent far too long trying to milk out some kind of relationship with you. You’ve made your choice, and thus I’ve made mine. When I think about you from time to time during the rest of my life, I will always be reminded of those two words that you left me with. The door that kept closing in my face every time I tried to peek through has officially been locked. And dead-bolted. Sealed. Boarded up. Those two words tell me all I need to know.