contact my father

Looks like I will have to save my mother first.
And I’ve got people actually counting on me to do it. o _ o How did it come to this, bugger.
I’ll do my best. I want her to be happy, but most of all I want her to not get hurt and be safe.

Okey,
I guess all that I’ve told you about my father so far is that he is Norwegian.
He is also an oil rig engineer and he has lived all over the world because of his career. When I last saw him, he lived in Houston, Texas.

I have only seen my father three times during my whole life. Twice he came to visit us in Finland and once my mum and I went to Houston (for a month in early 1992). This means I haven’t seen him after the age of four. 16 years, to be precise, since we were there in March. Huh.
My father has always been a minor (but not insignificant) character in my life – he has been like an actor, a legend, coming to life in stories supported by photos, few video recordings and letters. He has been easy to bring into conversation and as easily put aside again. Sometimes it actually seems like he’s almost not real – just an amusing pinch of spice in the dish that is my existence. This is hard to explain, since the situation must be a tad foreign to most people. But to me, this has always been very natural. I am totally ok with all of it.

People usually find it tragic that I haven’t had my father in my life, but I really don’t mind. In fact, it’s hard for me to think of the possibility that he had been in my life. What would my life be like then? I can’t picture it. Maybe that’s why I sometimes have problems remembering that other people do have fathers and that they interact with them; sometimes their fathers can be even closer to them than their mothers. That’s so strange to me, heh.

My parents were together for about 15 years before I was born. They always lived in a long distance relationship, my father was all around the world and my mum was in Finland most of the time. They had great holidays abroad, they loved each other and they made it work in their own way. My mum calls my father the love of her life. Not bad. :)
They didn’t plan to have me, I just… happened. And they were happy. But then something else happened. They had been planning to move to Norway together, to stay there and raise me there. But when they met in Oslo a few months before my birth, they had an argument (I don’t really know the full detail about this – quite many of the details concerning my parents’ relationship are unclear to me just because of the fact that my mother has quite poor memory :D but I don’t blame her) and my mum decided that she doesn’t want to leave Finland. The next time that they contacted each other was when she let him know that he had a red-haired daughter on May 19th 1987.

My mum tells me that I remind my father quite a lot. I have inherited his eyes, his red hair (that later, as he aged, turned to brown), his fondness for organization and tidiness, his language skills, his hairiness (boo :D I’m not kidding), his walk and sometimes I apparently have similar facial expressions and postures as him. It’s kind of funny in my opinion.

We haven’t kept contact. For some reason, it just… faded. And no one did anything about it. It just lingered in the background. I think my mum called him a few times before the mid-nineties but that was it. Once his new wife picked up and said that my father had had a heart attack.
We haven’t really even known if he was alive or not. About two or three years ago I became curious and made a Google search with his name. I found an interview from 2000, that way we knew that he had at least been alive then.

And today my mum had done some research of her own and now we have his address and phone number. He’s still alive and he’s still living in Houston.
My mum talked about contacting him for so so long, she mentioned it every now and then and now, now we have a way to contact him. Feels… I don’t know what it feels like, really. Weird, I guess. Not in a bad way, though. I think. I’m not sure. I really don’t know. (:D)
She’s going to write him a letter and I’m going to translate it. I should probably write him something myself, too. It’s hard to imagine what I would say, though.

But I guess this is really happening now. Strange, this thing called life.

I don’t wanna bring anything bad back. I would love to get a signal of some sort, so that I know that he is watching over me, but I am not going to force it. If he thinks is necessary he will probably do it. If not he will always be my angel.

I called my father today. He was really, really glad to hear from me. He is getting MARRIED in June, and my brother, my girlfriend, and I are flying to Florida for the wedding. This is probably the start of him in my life and me in his again, and that’s a good thing.

Got an email from my dad yesterday. I’m going to contact him by phone soon, and we’ll go from there.

moving on. done.

spoke to my father. several times in fact. i wasn’t missing out on a thing.

well my father called today and didnt even realize i had actually called him the day prior. i guess it was fate that we were supposed to get back in touch after who knows how many years. ofcourse i wasnt around and he wanted me to return his call tonight, but i just dont think im up to it. i just have to do this at my own pace.

i called my father for the 1st time in years. he wasnt home so i left a message, i guess the ball is now in his court.