I woke up very early and decided to see if I could locate a Starbucks since the hotel coffee wasn’t cutting it. I had driven by a Starbucks on the way back to the hotel and figured I could find it again. I was aimlessly driving along and saw a place called Dominican Joe’s and stopped in. The coffee was exceptional. When I got in the rental car, I noticed that someone had called my cellphone and left a message which I thought was very odd considering the hour.
The message was from my birthmom’s sister and she asked if I could call her immediately. I called her right back and recieved horrible news. My birthmom’s family had been up at her cabin near the Canadian border for the weekend. On Sunday morning, my half brother hadn’t been feeling well complaining that he felt nauseous. During the afternoon, his condition worsened dramatically and he was taken by ambulance to a local hospital. They decided to med-flight him to Boston where he died of a massive brain hemorrhage. No warning. Forty years old.
I stood in the parking lot talking to her for almost an hour and then headed back to the hotel with my head spinning. My brother called at 8:00 a.m. and I went to pick him up for breakfast. I have to admit that Texans are very friendly people. Being a New England boy, it is odd to be greeted like long lost family as I came and went from the hotel.
We ate at a great restaurant called the Magnolia Cafe. This place was in a funky area of Austin with lots of stores, restaurants and art galleries. If we had more time, I would have liked to poke around some.
We drove to a trailer park that my birth father had lived in. At best, it was pretty depressing. The first few trailers were well cared for but it was down hill from there. Some on the trailers looked almost abandoned. Faded “For Sale” signs taped on the windows with a long faded phone number. One trailer looked like it was being used simply as storage for old rusty pieces of metal. It was odd that even though it was a nice sunny morning, the trees overhead completely blocked out the light.
I knew this place was located near his work. He had been working at an airplane engine manufacturer that has since closed after falling on bad times and he would have been able to walk from the park. I believe he had lost his license to drive at that point.
My brother asked if I wanted to get out of the car and see if anyone knew him. It honestly seemed like finding a needle in a haystack so I declined. There had to be at least 50 trailers and there wasn’t a soul in sight.
I couldn’t help thinking of a horrific story on the Texas news about a young mexican mother who lived in a trailer park. She apparently reached the end of her line and decided the only way out was to kill her three children and herself. Although this happened miles away, the story was heavy in my head and heart. The place was starting to freak me out because I found myself wondering if the trailer park she lived in was similar to this one. Dark and depressing. The air so hot and damp. I decided it was time for us to move on.
We were headed to my birth father’s last known address. The address listed in his obituary. My brother said it was in a very rough area of town near the river so he hadn’t checked it out previously. I was bracing myself for the worst. If my brother wouldn’t go there alone, it couldn’t be good.
To be continued…
