Batman, Ninja Turtles and even Power Rangers. All of these have gotten the Hollywood reboot in the last few years. After finally following through with finding my dad and reconnecting with him and his huge family after 30 years spent apart from each other, I think it's time my little story got one too. I thought about taking down the old blog posts. I cringe at my early writing attempts. Hopefully this time, it will be a little bit better. I think I'll leave the old posts though as a remnant of who I was before the discovery of my family. I can't say that I've changed a whole lot as a person after meeting them, but I can admit that some feelings of abandonment have been somewhat resolved. Hearing that I wasn't forgotten or given up on gave me some sense of solace to the early adolescent struggles. This was my final bit of writing as I was looking for my dad. Just going to post it and reorganize everything later.
I've come a long way, I think. Far away from that time when there was a man handcuffed to the foot of my bunk bed. I've almost forgotten the smell of urine from when he opened the two liter bottle given to him to piss in so that our counselor wouldn't have to unlock our door in the middle of the night. His screams from when he is dragged into the hallway for a beating is almost muted in my mind. That smile of missing teeth and bloodied eyes doesn't haunt me as much anymore. It's been 16 years since my last day in foster care, almost exactly the amount of years that I bounced around amongst different families until I was out on my own.
I still feel guilty about that guy back at the foster home. After all, I was a part of his torture too. When he didn't sell enough flowers out in the streets, sometimes it was me who was ordered to beat him. And after wasting my youth watching over him to ensure he was earning a profit for our guardian, there were times I made no attempt to hold back.
For six years, I was captive at that final foster home. I was afraid to speak out because of the manipulation and fear. I was told a story about a boy who tried to run away and call the police. It was said that the policeman merely brought him back, bloodied t-shirt and all, and was handed over to his tormentors, but not before being admonished for being an ungrateful piece of shit that was rescued from homelessness and other things. Our guardian said she had pulled some strings that landed him in the California Youth Authority, a prison for minors. That plus the threat of using my attempted murder charge against me from when she ordered me to beat that guy with a two by four. She said I went overboard when I accidentally bashed in his head, leaving a large gash pouring blood over the floor. She told the hospital he got jumped, but now I realize she was covering her own ass rather than trying to save mine. Still, it kept me quiet for all these years.
And yet, I always tried to win her affection. We all did. That was life in our household. Being manipulated by her to fight amongst each other for her recognition and adulation. We were so starved of attention that we never realized she was dividing and conquering us by constantly turning us against each other. We were all very lonely and afraid. There were even boys who took turns massaging her feet every night while she watched tv. I never earned such honors. I was one of the rebellious ones, quietly brewing up plans to escape one day.
I had to steal my own legal emancipation. On my 18th birthday, I was not allowed to leave. She held all of my legal documents and I had no resources. Deciding that I had nothing to lose, I chose to brave the unknown and ran away with no money, no bank account and no papers. Luckily I already had a job at In N Out Burger, but I spent three months homeless, bathing myself in gas station bathrooms before I was able to find a place other than a car to sleep in.
I've come along way. Today I no longer feel alone. And though at times, I am overwhelmed by how un-alone I am, I make a conscious attempt to always appreciate those that surround me and give me companionship and unconditional love, despite the post-traumatic feelings of being unwanted or unneeded. Therapy has helped a little bit. Having an understanding and caring wife and son has helped a lot. So have the friends I've made along the way.
There remains many unanswered questions about my past since my mother is no longer available to comprehend anything I say to her. Her schizophrenic condition has made it impossible for me to find out any information about myself or my relatives. One question has come to the forefront recently when my son asked if I had a dad. It should only make sense to him that I should, since I have done everything in my power to be the father to him that I had dreamed for as a kid. And with that question in mind I start this new journey into the unknown: Finding my father. He has always been a blank question mark in my timeline. I don't have much information about him. Only his name and his birth month and year. Not even a full birthday. I was told many things about who he was and what he did, but that information has yet to be fact checked. The source is unreliable.
Here is what I know. He was out of my life by the time I was three. I don't remember his face or voice, but I remember a smell. Polo cologne, the green bottle with the gold knobbed cap. His name is Vo Thanh Van, and his birthday is May 1954. Maybe. This is my attempt to reach out to him and possible meet the man who may have answers for me. I have written a letter to him in hopes that he might find it one day and contact me. All I can do is put it out there and hope it gets to him somehow. If you're out there and you do get this letter, reach out to me at findingVeeVo@gmail.com. In the subject line, write down my mom's name so that I know it's really you and not a random internet troll. My name has since been legally changed but you know me as Vo Khac Chinh. And this is my letter to you.
Dear Mr. Vo Thanh Van,
My name is Vo Khac Chinh and I am your son. I hope that this letter finds you in good health, if it does find you at all. As I am writing this now, with hardly any knowledge of who or where you are, I have little hope that this will ever reach you. I will float this idea into internet space to see if we might have some luck with finding you. I have considered though that perhaps you may not want to be found, and that is ok. As this is a very long shot, the failure of this idea will not lead to much disappointment.
How does one write a letter to his father whose face and voice he can't even recognize? All I know about you is your name and the month and year you were born. I remember some hand-drawn pictures you sent me as well as a few random events, but not enough to establish an identity of you. I suppose I can start by telling you a little about me.
After the event that separated us, my mother set up a living situation for me to live with another family. Whether it was because she didn't consider herself capable of raising a kid or her mental health affected her decision making I'll never quite know, but it certainly provided me with a sense of stability and familial socialization, even if they were not my family. I continued to live with many different families until I was nine years old when my mother decided it was time for me to live with her. That lasted for a year as she developed an addiction to alcohol and I landed in the foster care system. After bouncing around through eight years of the tumultous and abusive experience of foster care I became a homeless teenager. Within a few months of hard work and through the kindness of friends I was off the streets, working two jobs and attending college. Fast forward almost 15 years later I am now a father to a five year old and a husband to an intelligent and loving woman. It is through my wife that has nudged me to pursue this endeavor of reuniting with you. And it is my son that has inspired me to forgive and move on from the past that has allowed me to take on this task.
If you are reading this, I'd like you to know that should you decide to reunite with me, any feelings of shame or guilt can be dismissed from your mind. There is no need to revisit past actions that can't be changed and all has already been forgiven. I only wish to find answers to so many questions and I hope I can offer you some solace as well, as I know life has not always been easy for our family.
#findingVanVo
