FanStory.com - Michael Patrick Cahill, Patriarchby michaelcahill

My Aunt Jan passed away a couple days ago. I didn't know her well. I lived most of my life unaware that she existed. I had several aunts and uncles that I never knew existed. They produced quite a few children. Those would be my first cousins. I've heard several people speak of their first cousins in terms that likened them to brothers or sisters. I never knew mine existed.

Well, to make a long story short, I never met my father. Therefore, I had no knowledge of his side of the family. My mother and her mother kidnapped me when I was two years old and took me across the country to California. I'm still here. There is a story behind that, but that is for another time.

I can tell you that not having a father did not cause me any great angst or concern. I never developed that sense of comparing my life to the life of others. I lived my life and found that to be the most satisfying and sensible thing to do. It is what I offer to anyone as advice if they inquire.

The women who raised me, my mom, grandma and a great aunt, weren't what one would call sane. My mother carried a diagnosis of manic depression and the other two escaped clinical diagnosis. I don't recall them being affectionate or even supportive. I had to take over running the family when I was about nine years old.

All of that background is to get to the point that I turned out perfectly normal. I've never been in any big trouble or afoul of the law. I haven't become an abusive drunk. I haven't been in and out of mental institutions.

None of them had the slightest artistic leaning. I am madly artistic. I'm a musician, artist and those reading this may judge if I am also a writer.

To be honest, I've always been a puzzle to myself. I look at my family and my upbringing and I can't fathom how I could possibly have turned out so stable and grounded. I'm actually the first person called in a crisis of any kind. I'm the most likely to step in and take care of someone when the chips are down.

I did finally meet my father's side of the family when my mother died. I called one of the numbers that my mother had left to call in the event of her demise.

"Is this Jan Verschure?"

"Yes, it is."

"Well, I'm Michael. I'm calling on behalf of my mother, Joann Jefferson. You may know her as Cahill. Your name is on a list of people to call. She's passed away."

"Michael?"

"Yes, I'm her son."

"My God. Michael, I'm your Aunt Janice. I'm your father's sister. I'm your aunt, Michael. I never thought we'd find you. We gave up years ago. My god!"

The conversation continued from there. I discovered that my father had died the year before. I have two half-brothers and a half-sister. Plans were made and I flew to Florida with my wife about two months later.

It turns out that they all knew me. I had somewhat a celebrity status. The first born of my generation, kidnapped never to be seen again. I guess finding someone wasn't as easy back then as it is now. Within twenty minutes, almost everyone at the reunion had a guitar out and all were singing. My Aunt Jan was a female tenor, very rare. She could sing up a storm! It turns out that Paul Simon (yes that one) is my cousin. Soooooo, that's where the music and all that comes from. Hmmm.

Then Aunt Jan brought out the pictures. There were many pictures of me from infancy to the age of two. Pictures of me with all the aunts and uncles. Pictures of me with grandparents and great grandparents. There were several pictures of me with my father even. There was a picture of me looking at a toy Ferris wheel with lights. I received it on my first Christmas at eleven months old. That is my oldest memory other than my first step. I remembered that Ferris wheel and knew that it was something from before California.

There was one thing that all of the pictures had in common, I was being held by someone in every single one of them. It seems that from the day I was born until the day I was kidnapped, I was held constantly. That is why I turned out stable and calm. Any child psychologist will tell you that the first two years of life are the most important as far as nurturing. I think they are correct.

So now, Aunt Jan is gone. She is the last of the lovely ladies who gave me all of that love. She is the last link to the women that gave me enough love to last a lifetime.

Now, I am the patriarch of the family. I am the eldest living member of the Cahill family. It is almost laughable. Mikey is the head of the family.