I first had to take a look at marriage liscenses. From that initial research I gathered necessary information which allowed me to start following the "tracks" as it were. I took notes from all the files I looked into, i.e. divorce, custody, restraining orders etc. Low and behold, as I'm flipping through the files....The woman at the adoption agency was an angel! She sent me in the right direction in order for me to find out my half-brother was adopted by his step-father, the one she married a few months after she killed our father. Which means he no longer has the Keller name. As I continue reading I learn, my half-brother has another half-sister, on his mothers side (of course). Both kids were in custody of the step-father, after the wife shot her new husband in the leg, only 9months after she got "off" and clear of charges for the murder of Anthony Keller.
Before I left Michigan I wanted to go to my fathers grave site, something I'd never done. When I got there I was in shock and then the tears came and running. I felt a sence of closure, closure that I didn't even dream I needed. I squated low to the plaque to touch the words, as if I could touch his skin or his face. I had my sister take a picture of me and my dad as really the only picture I have with my dad. For that moment I was daddy's little girl, and then I was all grown up.
I did further research when I returned home from my trip. Looks like at one point they had all moved out of Michigan and moved to Florida and North Carolina. Flordia, possibly with the mother and North Carolina for my half-brother due to military training/station. I can't be sure, I didn't complete cross referencing and after a few calls got nervous again and haven't picked up the desire to pursue it at this point. (whats your opinion? leave me a comment, I'm curious)
In the end, who knows what his mother explained to her son about our father and IF she even mentioned there was a "me". I did meet my brother a few times. I can't remember much at all, wonder if he does. He is a little older than me. Amazingly enough, I somehow recall at least one time meeting my father, Anthony Keller, at a park with him, my brother. That vivid picture stays with me, tall, thin, blonde, narrow, soft but sharp features in his face. He picked me up. My brother really didn't seem interested, he played on the playground. I don't have a clear image. I know at one point my mom stood to my right and my father to my left and my brother in the center but playing in the background on the toys. Thats' it.
My mom saved my fathers obiturary for me, I had it for years, it got lost in the shuffle of life (loop back to this, lost in storage)
I don't know and will never know how my life would have been differnet with having a father, active in my life, one who I phyically "belonged" to. I imagine it sometimes and dream it up in my mind, I would want him to be proud of me, daddy's only little girl. He produced a good seed in me and that to me means something special. He lives with me everyday, inside me, my heart and all my fibers of my being. His life was taken, cut short, way too short. I will, as my mission, one belended into many missions, live life for both of us. His life will not be in vain nor his "error."
Both parents were in terrible relationships. My mom couldn't get a divorce based on the laws at the time. He, my moms first husband (of four), used to beat her to a pulp. Slamming her on the stair-railing watching as she slid down on her arched back. He burned all her pictures. Not only of her love, Anthony, but of her mother who dies of cancer when she was only 17years old. By the way she gave birth to me at age 20. She married this guy, because it was "better" of the two evils. She wanted to get out of her house once her mother passed, because she had been molested and raped by her step-father from the time her little mind could remember. So thise guy seemed like prince charming. This is how I ended up with a last name on my birth certificate that I abhor. I cringe every single time I hear people say it or call me by it. Its a constant reminder of this guy, Kieth Bennett.
And well, Anthony, the one that would actually have the facts IF he himself was truly a "nice" guy. I certainly hope so. I have nothing to base it on from my own experience, only that my mom loved him and has told me time after time how he treated her. He would pick her up and toss her in play, she was a little thing. He would carry her, they were very playful together she expressed. They were friends. She reflects with deep gazing and a warm smile. He, on the other hand, could have been dealing with a looney as well. They both, perhaps, escaped to one another. Not passing judgement or condoning, just stating some possibilities.
Some people have a fasination by the fact that I am a product of this love affair, a real "love child, created in passion and love, they say. Whatever that means, and so we'll move on.
In the world around us, in our map of the world, we experience life as a child without much control. Our little precious lives are in the hands of the ones who made it possible for two "seeds" to come together and make a being, a life. It's not until we get older and begin learning, we can create our path for our future. Our past doesn't make us who we are. We hold all the resouses within us and all the potential, without end, to propel us to make phenominal choices to shape our vision, our purpose into whatever it is that we deeply desire.
Thank you for reading.
Next: Finally a Divorce and A Place to Call Home
{please feel free to make edit suggestions and please please do give feedback. I might think I'm conveying my thought but I might have left a detail or 2 in my head}
