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I've been looking for my father for years, and giving it signifigant effort since 1995.

I've always known that the odds of recreating a father-son bond with him were pretty much nonexistant, and I knew it was likely he'd be homeless, or at best, poor. I didn't care. My dream was to Know -- why he and my mother divorced, why he went to prison, why he never tried to contact me (the one thing my maternal family can agree on is that he loved me very much). I know I have an uncle, and I wondered if maybe I had brothers, sisters, cousins, I didn't know about. I dreamed of finding a family that, if I couldn't join, I could at least get to know.

All of that ended today. Robert Eugene Johnston, born 26 November 1949 in Kansas City, Missouri, died on 7 December 1993 in San Francisco, California.

Gods damn it to hell.

There's still more to learn, of course -- my Uncle is probably out there somewhere, and I'll keep looking for him, and I'll be looking for information about my father's life before he died, of course... but it's over. He's gone, and I can never know him, now. All I have left are two old photo albums, one of which is nothing but pictures out of context.

You know... I have blood family that I care for. My little cousins who call me their brother, my maternal half-sister and her daughter, my aunt, my grandfather, lots of cousins and other distant relatives... but I suddenly feel very alone. I've had two sets of parents, natural and adopted, and both are now gone. I feel like I'm all that is left, even though I know otherwise.

Damn it.

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johnstonmr

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