I am 38 years old and I finally confirmed the suspicion that the person who raised me is not my biological father.
In an ordinary world truth, honesty and integrity go a long way and it should be something your parents teach you early on.
Not my family. I grew up in an abusive home full of lies and not a care of how it will affect me as I get older.
So, let me take you back to my childhood. There was good and bad but we remember the bad more than the good. Let me tell you the good I do remember.
Having a friend to play with I do not remember her name or where we were but I remember we took a picture next to a car and she had dark hair in pig tails and me in a pony tail or my hair was down. Long and blonde. We both were in shorts on a sunny morning or afternoon in Arizona.
I remember bobbing for apples and we all laughed and had water all over our face and we could not use our hands to get the apples out of the metal large bowl. I remember the bowl being so big we could have given a baby or small dog a bath in it.
I remember a small birthday party for me where I had a few friends and all the siblings laughing and playing in the yard.
I remember playing bat mitten or riding my brothers tricycle, the ones with the big black wheels and the bike was yellow.
Making homemade Christmas ornaments out of yarn and hair spray and hanging them on the clothesline.
I remember the times I spent with my grandma, my aunt and cousins drinking mountain dew, running around the house for hours and not being tired and coming inside for pigs in the blanket or fried bologna. Braiding my grandma’s long silver hair while she looked out the window at the other kids still playing or the dogs running or chasing them.
Then I remember the bad. The yelling, the hitting in the mouth by his hand or a beating on my backside with his belt. What for you may ask? What could I have done so bad that I deserved such a beating? I did not finish eating dinner and go right to cleaning the kitchen fast enough or I did not get the pots and pans spick ‘n’ span. I would need to go to the bathroom before washing dishes and took to long. I walked to hard on the floor or I just made him mad. The belt was humiliating and very abusive to say the least. I remember wanting to spend every weekend at my grandma’s and aunt’s house so I did not get a beating or in his way. I was told I could go sometimes but had to be home by 0600. That was always crazy because usually I went on a Friday after school and we would want to go out and do things on Saturday or sleep in since we were up late Friday. So, the person who raised me would have my sibling call and tell me to get home or tell me since it is late my aunt must drop me off and I cannot go the next time. It eventually was to the point I couldn’t go anymore. I am 13 years old and I am told the person who is raising me and is not the nicest person to me is not my dad.
Hold up, put the breaks on and ingest this information!!!!
What do you think was going through my head with this information?
For one, I am glad I found out because now it all makes perfect sense why I feel I am more abused than the other three siblings who live in the same house.
What do I do with this information now?
I decided as abusive as he is, if I say anything while I am under his household I am probably not going to get out alive or become an adult. That is so harsh to have to think as such an age. I had no proof or where to even get such a confirmation about this information.
My childhood was an absolute nightmare when I think back on all the bad.
Where is my mother in all this mess? She was there and she watched it all happen. I suspect she was just as scared as I was and ignored that these happened. She had no idea I knew about my biological father. All I know is his name and he is dead.
My biological father died when I was 3 approximately in 1981. I do not know anything about him except his name (David Eric Eaves) and he died a tragic death in a vehicle accident.
As I got older I tried to make the best out of everything. I had a few friends but we were never allowed to go anywhere together outside of the 6 foot fence that surrounded the house we lived in. My outlet was playing sports in grade school and played volleyball Freshmen year and Varsity my sophomore year. I also played softball my freshmen year. Fast forward to 18. My senior year and I ran away from home! I had a friend who had an amazing mother and father and they took me in with open arms. I stayed with them for a few weeks then I had to grow up and get a job and be an adult. I then moved in with my friends sister and her family for a while. That all worked out until taking the city bus to school 10 minutes later for my first period English class. (I only had 9 weeks left) and I got dropped out of high school and was not going to be able to graduate with my class because I could not make it to class on time. I moved to two other places before returning to home to finish a 6 week night school English class to complete my Diploma. Before you know it I was done with school and I had to wait for my Diploma after the other students graduated. In that meantime, I joined the United States Marine Corps. Four years of Active Duty and I went to boot camp in October 1997 and my Diploma was supposed to be dated December 1997. After graduating boot camp and another school for the military I went to a course about my job in the military.
I had a bad feeling. I called home to find out my grandpa was in the hospital and been there for the past 12 days but was not expected to come out. I managed to come home in April 1998 before my first duty station and I went to the High School to pick up my Diploma and they have the wrong graduating year. (To this day they never fixed it). I proceed in life and always keeping the secret in the back of my head along with a thousand other questions about him.
I have learned so much in the Marine Corps and one important one that was instilled in us is Honor, Courage and Commitment! Integrity was one of our traits and expected to be truthful and honor who we are. I am now 24 years old and I am on one of my last weeks of the Marine Corps and decide I am going to ask my mom because I deserve the honest truth about who my real father is.
My mom only cares about how she looks and that everyone has their eyes on her. She did not exactly deny it at first but then said do not say anything. She told me if I say anything he will kill her. Once again, I have to keep my mouth shut because I do not want my mother to be killed by her husband. We argued and she told me yes he died when I was three and she does not want to talk about it again. That was it. I got off that phone call with my mom in tears. She only cares about herself. She could have been supportive and been honest and been there for me. No, she turned her back on me. Her other children who live in the same state as her became her priority.
I unfortunately never got much out of her. No pictures, no more information. More like a shut door.
I spent the next 10 years trying to do my own research to find what I could. I had no way to get DNA from the person who raised me or from the person who is my biological father because he is buried 6 feet under.
I found someone who worked for David and he gave me so much information but no one has a picture of him. I sent him my picture and he could not believe how much I look like him. He said I was splitting image of him.
2012 – I am using Facebook and my niece responds to something I liked on Facebook and she opens up to me for the first time how she has always looked up to me and I simply told her that I was told I would amount to nothing. I had a teacher in high school who pushed me to do my best and told me if I do not work hard I will amount to nothing. It was not negative and I never took it negative from this teacher. I appreciated the teacher pushing me to do my best. I had two great teachers who did that. My mom wrote that I better not be talking about “me and your dad”. I told her then I was not talking about her or dad. A big argument pursued from this conversation and I told her since we want to put it all out on the table why don’t we tell the family secret. I had enough about hiding who I am and I thought at the time only my niece, my mom and I were seeing this conversation. I did not know others could being new to Facebook. Well in the end I stated why doesn’t she come clean that dad is not my dad and I called her a coward. Okay looking back now, not the best choice of a word to use. Well what happened next has to be the worst a family member can do to you. My siblings ganged up on me and talked so much crap about me that me calling my mom a coward was the nicest of all it. They called me a liar and they basically blocked me from Facebook and told me I do not do enough for the family because I am out here in California and they are in Arizona. First of all, I have lived in Southern California since February 2000. I have made numerous trips from 2000 to 2006 that costs me so much money and time that not one of my siblings have ever made a trip to California to see me. Not so much as a soda or a small bag of chips. Almost every year there were multiple trips, my then husband and I always broke our bank buying Christmas presents, a new stove for my parents once. You name it. The person who raised me got wind of what happened (not sure how much he was told) but he refuses to speak to me. My siblings blocked me out of their life and so did my mom.
Fast forward to 2017. My mom has talked to me a couple times and sent Christmas gifts a couple years ago and in a row. We have gotten in arguments when I bring up me wanting to know more about David. I want the truth and I do not want to be lied to anymore. I am a grown woman and our family needs to stop hiding behind a lie. To this day, the person who raised me has not said one word to me. In my eyes that proved he was not my dad. He had nothing to lose by cutting me out of his life. I wonder how much he knew growing up. Every time he hit me was he hitting me because I was not his and he could not his the man who my mom cheated with? I will never know the truth.
I finally had the guts (even though I thought about this 1000 times) I asked my half sister if she would do a DNA test with me. She is the daughter of the person who raised me. She is not my moms daughter. Late May 2017, I check the website, no results. It is a Friday and I decide to check later. Later I check it and the results are in. The results read +1 we are likely biologically half sisters and -1 we are not biologically half sisters (no relation).
Guess what the test said: The results were below -1. That means we are not biologically related.
She is always my sister even if not by blood. She is the only one who never Judged me since that argument with my mom over 5 years ago. I do not know why I was so scared to ask her all these years but I am glad she agreed. I did not do it to make her life miserable or put her in any bad relationship with our siblings. I had a right to know and she helped me get the answers that no one else would help solve.
Since my mom and my siblings have cut me out of their life and Gerald will not talk to me I went back to Facebook to write about it and get it off my chest. As I have done here but this is in more depth. I now know the truth. I am aware of my mom and one of my siblings reading my post but I am sure they have done everything they could to hide it from him.
Now, as reality kicks in and I have soaked in the truth to me it is a God’s honest blessing. No child should be abused and no child should live their life not knowing the truth. I do not even know much about David. I do not know what color his eyes were. I do not know if he was left handed or right handed. When I was little and riding in a vehicle I always had a fear of dying in a car accident. You know what this all occurred before I was 13 and found out about my dad. I think he was there keeping me safe but trying to tell me something. I hope he will always be with me and look over my family (my sons, my husband and I) I just have so many questions that will never get answered.
I now am half unknown. This means my two sons now do not know a part of them except what I can tell them. They will know what I know.
To David Eric Eaves, you have an amazing daughter and you would have been really proud of her. You have an amazing son-in-law and two amazing grandsons that are great boys. I wish I could have known you and had you in my life growing up.
David Eric Eaves died in a bad car accident and supposedly died jumping out of his truck to try and save his life but was pinned between a wall and his truck. The other story was he tried to get under his steering wheel to try and save his life. Either way, I am so sorry I missed out on you being a dad. I heard you possibly had a son named Donald and a daughter named Re-nee who also lost their mother in a car accident 3 years or less before you died. What a tragedy. If Donald or Re-nee ever see this come forward and meet with me. I am curious if we look alike and I want to know my older siblings. Your mom would be Patricia Ann Eaves from my understanding.
Now, the things that really irks me more than anything is my mom lied on my birth certificate and the person who raised me has his name on there like it is no ones business. I cannot go to the State and ask for his name to come off without specific documentation. It is not fair. I would have rather not grown up with his last name or on my official documentation either. I went through the Marine Corps as that last name and it was all a lie. I do not want any of my personal birth certificates, military records, marriage certificates nothing to have his name on it.
This is my story and even though I will be okay and I will conquer being lied to for 38 years I know who my real dad is and I know he is watching over me now!
So, if anyone else is in a similar situation don’t lie to prevent the truth from coming out. Own it and support your poor child who may end up like me. Don’t put them in that place. If you had an affair and someone turns out to not be the father of your child and you are married be honest to them and don’t hide information from them. Be truthful and be there for your kid whenever, even if it will hurt. In the end the pain won’t hurt as much.