I have been talking to dead people. Searching for long lost people.
Hoping they will speak to me, or at least tell me where they- and I-
come from.
My parents divorced when I was two years old. They both remarried,
but I never saw my father again. Times were different. Choices were
made and new lives were forged… At what cost…? He didn’t show any
interest in knowing how I turned out, whether that was his choice or
not, that is how it was.
From time to time I wondered the how, why, and what if, of this.
Obviously he had no interest in me, so, as a young man, I had no
interest in him. We lived in the same city, but to my knowledge we
didn’t run into each other, though later I found out that we lived six
blocks apart, and drove the same model auto.
As I got older, this subject appeared less and less in my life. I
had, and have, a good, no, very good life. A wonderful wife, a
fulfilling time on the planet. Music, adventures, close friends, all
the things that make a good life.

One afternoon, after we got home
from work, I was wandering from one room to another, the television on
in the background, five o’clock news on. A fire. A death. A name. Wait! What?! My
father…  That can’t be the name I heard. It was… Killed in a
fire. I quickly double checked the phone book for an address, like
that would make this a big bad mistake. But the phone book
chimed in its bad news. It was him…

Time has passed. Lives are different, so, there was no need to involve myself. However, my lovely wife, and my sister went to the visitation, to see who these people were, that abandoned me… They were all a bit surprised. Both my family, and ‘the other family’.  A half sister that didn’t know I existed, met Maggie and my sister. My sister knew the half sister through work connections. “What are you doing here?” ” My brother is your half brother”. “Well, that explains the photo of the little boy, Timmy, on dads dresser, all these years”… Whoa… That was a showstopper….

Jeannine got my half sisters email address, so we corresponded a little, but, none of the other family were interested, and, the half sister fell by the wayside, after a couple weeks.  So much for a reconciliation…  But since then, I have been drawn more and more, to searching my roots/ancestors/genealogy.  I know I am 3/4 Irish, and have this low constant rumble of want to know where in Ireland my bloodline is located. I can’t say that I want to meet any of my living family here, since they are not interested in me, but, I am really drawn to the ones who have passed on, that made the journey to the United States, for a better life.  Who were they, what were they like, where were they born, lived, and decided to leave?

Hoare Abbey

I have in the last week, spent hours trying to find out those answers, but, they are very good at keeping a secret.  I have found my great grand father, on the male side. Where he came from, before crossing the Atlantic, is still a mystery. The Great great Grandmother was a little easier. Her family is from Count Cork, but that is the end of the trail for this week…