by Dorothy Dykstra Hick
(Bloomingburg NY)
At the age of three, my father, Donald Dykstra, left and never came back. He left me and my biological mother, along with two step-siblings, my older sister and brother born to my mother's first marriage, who my biological father adopted to give them his last name.
My mother never wanted to say anything bad about him, and only if we asked would she tell us anything. But for over 21 years, nobody asked her anything.
At around the age of 21, my half-brother and I were talking and then asked our mother where he might be, and if it would be alright to find him, as we didn't want to hurt her by doing this.
The longing to know was strong in me all my life, but for some reason, I just didn't ask. Again my mother, not wanting to say anything bad, said she thought it would be better if we saw for ourselves, just in case all turned out alright. She wanted us to go with open minds, and said she would write a letter stating we did not want anything from him and just wanted to meet him.
She gave us the last known state and town he lived in, which was Tampa, Florida.
My step-sister didn't want anything to do with it at all, as she knew he was not her biological father. But my step-brother for some reason did.
My step-brother and I took a plane, as we lived in N.J., to the area of Clearwater, Florida. We started to make calls to radiator places, and on the third call, the gentleman told us of a man that used to own a radiator shop, but now owned an Exxon station. He said that he had something to bring out there, and would have his driver stop by and we could follow.
I had found a photo of myself, my step-brother and sister standing with my father, who appeared to be a very tall man and looked just like Roy Rogers. I had that photo with me and when we got to the station where my biological father might be, both of us questioned whether we really wanted to do this. My step-brother decided for me, and we entered the front office where a man was sitting behind a desk and not looking up at all.
My step brother said, "excuse me, we are looking for Donald Dykstra." The man behind the desk, never looking up, said," It depends on who is looking for him." That made me scared and I went behind my brother, waiting for one of them to say something else. My step-brother gave him the letter that my mother had written.
In the wait for this man to read the letter, I noticed that under a car on a lift in the bay of the station was a man that looked just like the photo I carried. I nudged my step brother and told him to look, saying, "there he is."
But with that the man behind the desk looks up and just says,"I can not believe you are standing in front of me." He stands up and starts to come forward to us. But in my mind the man I was looking for was in the bay area of the station. I looked at the man from behind the desk and was sure that he was not the one in my photo. (photo 18 years old).
This man was old and short, but he started talking and telling us he was Donald Dykstra and was so happy to see us. But then the phone rings and these are the words I hear him say. " You will never guess who is standing in front of me. Who did I wish I could see every Christmas? Yes, they are in front of me right now."
After saying good bye to the person on the phone, he asked if we would stay for a few minutes, as his wife was on her way and wanted to meet us. My step-brother says, "yes", but my mind was still on the man in the bay, under the car, who never looked up from his work.
Within minutes my father's wife was there, all ready to hug us and tell us how much she missed us. My mind was still on the man in the bay. I was mixed up, and now more so, trying to figure out why a person I thought had never met us before was now telling us how she missed us. She was also telling us how happy she was that we finally came.
My father's wife then asked us if we would come back to go to dinner with them. My step-brother said we would, and we left.
Before leaving I take another look into the bay of the station and tell my step-brother that has to be him. I take the photo out of my pocket and he agreed that he looked more like the man in the photo than the short older man behind the desk. But that we would return later and find out for sure.
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