Ealain

Josh convinced me to get up the courage to call. I called again around 4pm my time and then realized, hey, they’re three hours behind me so that doesn’t work. I called again around 6:30 their time and talked to Cambria for 37 minutes.

Kaitlynn doesn’t know about her dad. Cambria’s been with a new guy for many of these years and Kaitlynn knows him as her dad. She plans on telling Kaitlynn some day but not yet since she’s still at an age where she won’t understand (she turned 6 today). She said that she’s fine with us knowing her–that she is big on family too–but just to respect that. I understand completely.

I talked to Kaitlynn. I told her that I was her aunt Skye, just not where I fit into the family tree. I told her happy birthday and asked if she was having a good one so far. She was shy at first. I told her that I remembered when I was six and it was a cool age, and that I was twenty now. Then I asked if she was in kindergarden or first grade. She said kindergarden and I told her that I was in college to be a first grade teacher but that kindergarden was cool too (and that she’d be way past first grade by the time I started teaching). She said that her cousin was in second grade. Then she told me that she used to have a dog but that he died. I told her about Bear. She said that she has a cat now that likes petted. I asked her what the cat’s name is–Isabelle–and then told her that it was a really pretty name (really is; I’ve always loved that name). I told her about Josh’s cats–Aya and Ibis–and that they liked being pet too. Then she asked if I was done talking with her, because her mom wanted to exchange addresses. haha.

So she got my address and phone number and myspace and promised to send pictures. She added me as a friend on myspace as we talked. I just went by and Kaitlynn is so pretty. Her mom was right; she does have her dad’s eyes (all of us do; everyone on my dad’s side has them).

Cambria also has a son: Gary. He’s a cutie too. He was sick tonight though so I’m hoping he feels better soon.

I’m exstatic. *beams* I drove home from Josh’s singing. I’m so happy… Oh so happy…

Six years ago today you were born and six months later your dad, my brother, died. I met you once at his memorial. I only saw you for a moment. I heard you crying the whole time. That is all I know of you.

I know that you live in California so I looked up your mom’s name on the online white pages. I found a number that I think might be you; it’s in the same town that your dad died and my dad once told me that your mom’s parents lived there so I’m hoping that you are still living there. I tried calling but got voicemail: one of those electronic voices that don’t tell me whether it is you or not. I’ll try back later.

See, I never got to know your dad well. He was in the Air Force and traveled all over. I have three memories of him in my whole life. But what I knew of him, I loved. He was seventeen years older than me and he got the respect from me that you probably give your big brother. Complete adoration. I regret never knowing him better. That’s one reason I want to try to get in touch with you. I don’t want that to happen with us.

I’ve tried to imagine what you are like and what you look like. I imagine all different varients because I don’t know. I compare you to the other six year olds I know: Effie’s son Mick and Rissy’s daughter Emmy. They’re balls of energy zooming around, growing, and learning so much. That’s how I picture you.

I’ll try calling again tonight. I have it planned out. I’ll ask for your mom, and hopefully the phone number will be right. I’ll tell her who I am and why I’m calling. I’ll ask for her permission to know you, because I know how she feels about my father and that there is a good chance she’ll hang up the phone if she finds out I live with him now.

Sometimes I wonder if you know that I exist. I wonder how much you know about your dad: if your mom relives him by telling you stories or if it is a rough subject for her. I was only his half sister. I only met her once or twice. Maybe I wasn’t mentioned.

Either way, I hope someday you’ll know that I love you even without knowing you at all. Hopefully someday I’ll be able to love you, knowing everything about you.