Once upon a time

In 1990 I was working three jobs. Two full time, and one part time. One of my full time jobs was as clerk at a convenience store. It was a teeny tiny place, barely bigger than my living room, one booth took up most of the east wall, and one cooler unit took up the west wall, with the counter along the north and the south windows facing the highway. The bathroom was on the outside, I used to have to lock up the store every time I had to pee.
There was a guy about my age that I had become friends with, he was in the store almost as much as I was. His name was Charlie. He used to come in and sit, telling stories, especially ones about his wild uncle Donny, who he really admired. I told him a lot about me, about my parents splitting when I was 18 months old, and how I didn't know my real dad, and growing up with my mom and adopted dad. My real dad's family was from the next county, and I didn't know any of them.
One day Charlie came rushing in, practically bouncing off the walls. I was helping a customer at the time, and I kept giving Charlie weird looks, like "what the hell is up with you?"
Finally the customer left, and Charlie started talking.
"You said you were adopted, right?" He asked me excitedly.
"Um, yeah... Why?"
"What is your real dad's name?" He was practically having a conniption by this time...
"Donny J." I said, as he went ape-shit.
"That is my uncle Donny!" He was grinning like a jackass eating yellow jackets.
"What??" I couldn't quite comprehend what he was saying.
"When do you get off work?" he asked. I told him, and he told me to come over to where he and his wife lived, and he would call his uncle.
The rest of the shift was the longest shift I ever worked. It finally ended, and R and I went to Charlie's house. He called his uncle, and talked a bit, telling him my mom's name and things, and come to find out, he was my dad. I was 23 years old, and that day was the first time in memory that I had heard my dad's voice. He was remarried, had two other daughters, and was living in Colorado.
When I was growing up he was a truck driver, and since my mom wouldn't let him see me, he would come to town, park his truck, and walk down to where we lived, staying down the street to watch me play in the yard. The adoption by my mother's second husband had been done without my dad's knowledge. Something about if the missing parent is living in some other state and cannot be found, or something, made it legal... So mom says.
A few nights later, I was going to my other full time job at Daylight Donuts (it was time to "make the donuts!") Midnight, no makeup, hair in a ratty pony tail, half asleep, trying to unlock the door of the shop when from down the street at the Laundromat I hear "Hey! Amethyst, there's someone I want you to meet!" It was Charlie. I was cussing him all the way down the street, about not the time or place to be meeting someone, me looking like shit with no make up, and as soon as I stepped into the Laundromat I stopped. There, leaning against a washer, in his typical James Dean look, was my dad. Just like that. After all those years, to meet him at midnight in a Laundromat.
We got close very fast after that, we had so much in common. I met the whole family, and I fit into that family better than I ever did my mom's family or my adopted dad's family. I finally felt whole, after 23 years of feeling like a part of me was missing, I finally felt whole.
Flash ahead about 10 years. R and I were separated, and I started dating a man who still to this day is one of the best people I know. Treated me like a queen, was very responsible, intelligent, (and totally hot on top of all that!). When one of my dad's cousins called him, and told him who I was dating, that was all she wrote. I have never heard from my dad again. It's been 7 years since I last talked to him, back when R and I were still together. I hear he is in extremely bad health, I don't know. My grandfather died during this time, no one bothered to tell me. I probably won't know when my dad passes, either. I have tried to contact him, but calls don't get answered, and letters are never acknowledged. The reason for the disowning? My boyfriend was black.
I try to tell myself that if they are that racist, I don't want to be a part of their family anyway, but I am, and I can't change that. I can't change the fact that it is one of the most painful things in my life, though I don't ever let myself feel it. I just live my life, and don't think about it.
I suppose I should feel grateful to at least have had the chance to get to know him once...