Reflection

I imagined several scenarios that I might read as cause of death on my father's certificate of death. Suicide wasn't one of them. My father died of a self-inflicted gunshot to the head.

My manager told me that I could leave work early today for the holiday weekend, and BJ had the day off. So after work we went to the grocery store to pick up items we'd need to host our dinner tomorrow. I asked BJ if he wouldn't mind if we stopped at the post office on our way home. Now I'm regretting that decision because he had to witness my reaction when I read those words on the certificate of death.

I shouldn't have opened the envelope until I was alone, but I'd waited so long for this. I ordered the death certificate when I found out about his death on February 23rd. I got a call from the office of vital statistics two weeks ago that they had mailed it to the wrong address, so they sent it again. I was at work at the time that they called and am very glad that I resisted the temptation to ask them what it said.

BJ just lost his dad on February 7th, and so I sit here feeling so guilty about my reaction. His dad was his best friend; I didn't know my father. Yet I burst into tears and I'm still struggling really hard to keep it in.

When I first looked at the certificate of death, all I saw was that the place of injury was a vehicle. For an instant I was relieved that he died in an auto accident. I've been afraid to read that he died of emphysema or liver failure; both being complications of a heriditary disorder that I have. Then I saw gunshot to the head. Decedent shot himself. It literally took my breath away and I felt as if someone had punched me in the throat.

Instantly my brain was flooded with the image of a very sad man; a man feeling so hopeless that he put a gun to his head and shot himself. My brain even took me down the road of the aftermath. I can't turn it off. I also can't turn off the guilt about not trying harder to find him. I'll never know what made him so sad.

My mind is so jumbled with emotions that I can't quite sort out. I'm feeling confused and very very sad. I'm sad that another human being, who happens to have given me half of my genes felt so hopeless that he decided to end his life.

I feel as if I was completely sideswiped by this. I honestly don't know anyone who could possibly understand how I feel right now. Who would be able to say that they've had this experience so they could explain why I'm so sad about a man I never knew? I'm in a very lonely place.

I am not someone who believes in coincidence; I believe that many things happen because that's the way they're supposed to happen. The following story is a perfect example. I didn't post it at the time because I was keeping my father-in-law's illness out of my blog. He read my blog when he was alive and I didn't want him to have to face my thoughts about it.

I have a set of friends ("Bob" and "Ann", and now, their partners) that I've known for almost 20 years. They were my lifeline's when I was going through my divorce 15 years ago, and we've all been there for each other through things that life hands out. We don't see each other now more than once a year, because we are all just so busy. We keep in contact via email for the most part. They hadn't yet met BJ so we decided it was time. We started planning this dinner about four months ago, but had to keep canceling due to one circumstance or another. Finally the date was set for this past January 30th.

On the way to dinner I shared with BJ the fact that Bob lost his dad to emphysema on 12/26, just three weeks prior. I assured him that they knew nothing about his father, so this is not a topic that he needed to worry about talking about if he didn't want to.

We all got caught up and I asked Bob how he was doing after the loss of his dad. He shared the up's and down's and brought up Hospice and said how important it was that Hospice was there. He shared how it went at the end, and it was almost identical to BJ's dad. The family had NO idea how sick Bob's dad was until the very very end. Bob shared that he and his brother were holding their dad's hand when he passed on, and it was a really beautiful thing for them.

Ann, my other friend, then shared that her dad was just put into Hospice and shared the circumstances behind that. BJ put his hand on my knee and I knew right then, that this was going to be good for him.

To my surprise (because he's such a private person), BJ brought up his dad. He shared what had been happening, and my friends just listened. BJ asked questions of Bob because his story was so similar to what BJ was going through at that time. There were a few tears at the table that night, but surprisingly, the tears were tears of empathy from those listening to the stories of others. Not from the person telling their story.

On the way home, BJ kept saying how he couldn't get over the timing of all of this and how important it was to hear all of this. We'd planned this dinner before Bob's dad died, and certainly before BJ's dad got the prognosis. We didn't know anything about Ann and her dad. This was just the exact right time.

In addition to the sharing such personal emotional things, we laughed. We sometimes laughed so loud that people looked at us but we didn't care!

In the end, BJ told my friends that he felt that he'd made some really good friends, and they all said that they all now had a built in support system. They decided to call themselves the "Hospice club" and planned our next get together for April, and will be getting together bi-monthly from now on.

In this past month, BJ lost his dad and I got word today that Ann, the remaining member of the "Hospice club" lost her dad this weekend.

I have a feeling that the next time we get together, all of the dads will be 'with' us and laughing right along side of us. We may not hear that laughter, but it'll be there.

I'm one of those action oriented types. Give me a problem and watch me go! Don't make me plan it out. I don't need "no stinkin' plan" to get from point A to point B.

Yesterday I ordered my b-father's death certificate and I'm trying to locate his obituary. Since my original intent to find him not only about finding him, but also finding his family, the fact that he's no longer alive shouldn't stop my search.

His death certificate will give me information about how he died. It's not morbid curiosity, it's because of it being potentially due to complications from the same disorder I have. I'm hoping to see the words, "auto accident" on the death certificate, quite frankly. Sixty is awfully young.

I got one dead end on the obituary, but the county librarian said she'd research other papers for the week before and after the date of death, in case the information I have is wrong. The obituary is where I hope to find information about my b-siblings.

Since my father had such strong genes (I look just like him) I wonder what my sisters look like. I've always wondered what "me" looks like. There's also that whole debate about environment -vs- genes. Are they like me? My cousin, who I've just reunited with (shout out to kruzerone!) knew my father. My cousin is MUCH (snicker) older than me. He told me that my father was a very smart and determined type of man. His description of his personality sounds an awful lot like mine in regard to my business side. I don't know what kind of human being he was though. He sounded very passionate, but was he kind?

Here is a picture of my b-father and my mother on their wedding day. There is no denying I look like him. My oldest son has his identical face from the nose up. Same identical nose. It's kind of freaky actually, because I don't have that nose. I have his eyes, cheekbones, lips (or lack thereof) and I used to have those eyebrows. Ugggh.


I did briefly tell hubby about it, but played down how I felt about it. It was maybe a five minute conversation. That's very short considering all of the hours I've been thinking about it in the last two days. Really, after I figured out what it was that made me sad, it all made a whole lot more sense.

It's all about closure. Things I can no longer ask. I can't say that I loved this man, because I didn't even know him. I was curious about him, and very curious about his actions; or rather, lack of actions. I was curious as to whether what my mother has told me all along was true. Did he REALLY leave her when she became pregnant with me because he didn't want children? That would explain why he never made an effort to contact me. But it wouldn't explain why I have siblings.

So now I can only hope to find out these answers from any family that he may have left. Even if it is true, I don't think that finding out for sure is going to take any more of an emotional toll on me than it has over the past 45 years. It's something I've learned to believe. It would be really cool to find out that what I was lead to believe all these years was wrong. If not, well, no harm done.

There is family out there and I intend to find them. If they don't have the answers, that's fine. That's not why I'm searching.

Stay tuned...

I have been searching for my biological father off and on throughout my entire adult life. It wasn't because I needed a father, I already have a truly wonderful father. He's my Dad. It's easy to be a father, but I believe that being a dad is something special.

I think part of my reason of wanting to locate my father was out of curiosity, part of it was wanting to know the "real" story, not just my mother's side, and part of it was to track down my biological siblings and any surviving members of his family. I can tell by looking at pictures of my biological father that he has some pretty strong genes. I have several of his facial features, and his curly dark hair. I also recognize parts of him in both of my boys, which is rather strange since I've never met the man. I've only seen pictures. I'd like to see what the rest of "me" looks like. I am also curious about him. What was he like? Am I like him?

I've never hired a private investigator, but I've ordered plenty of those $80.00+ people searches that gave me lots of dead ends, so I'd give up for another year or so before trying again.

Last night, while BJ was out with da boys, I was bored and ran a google seach on my name just to see what's out there. I do that every once in a while because it cracks me up. My same-name counterparts are all very cool and successful people. One is a TV producer, one is a marathon runner, one is an attorney and one is married to someone with my brother's name. That was kind of weird to read. Yuck... love ya, bro, but yuck!

Last night's search lead me to a link to an adoption registry. My heart started pounding because I thought that maybe my father (or other family members) was looking for me. Turned out that it wasn't me, but I decided to go ahead and register there. Couldn't hurt.

Within two hours I got an email back from someone who does free records research. First of all, how cool is that? She looked up my information and told me lots of stuff about my mother and the marriage to my biological father. Then she told me that she found a death record that was the same name (first, middle and last) and the right age. I don't know his birthday, but it was the correct year. He died when he was 60, almost 13 years ago. I'm willing to bet that he died of the same disorder that I have, since it's genetic.

I don't know this man, yet I was overwhelmed with sadness when I read that email. I'm still sad, but the sadness is being trumped by curiosity about WHY I'm sad.

I wish this information had come at a different time, because I don't feel like it would be appropriate for me to be upset about this and share those feelings of sadness with my husband. He just lost his father; a man who he has known and was best friends with his entire life. To me, showing any grief over this person that I didn't know would seem to minimize what my husband is going through. Not to mention the fact that he died 13 years ago. I'm having a difficult time wrapping my mind around all of this.

I have a lot to mentally sort through and process. Why am I feeling this way about someone I didn't know? Where do I want to go from here? Do I just barge in on my siblings? I now know where he lived and when he died, so I could probably get an obituary giving me lots of information. What if they don't even know I exist? Does his wife (assuming he was married at the time of his death) know I exist? I don't believe in intruding where I'm not invited; invading people's privacy. This could potentially be a huge intrusion and invasion.

This information has also smacked me in the face with my own mortality. Sixty years is not very old.

wow.

Yesterday was my first day to make calls on behalf of Hospice. Before we're set free to make calls on our own, we have to make calls in front of the bereavement counselor. I was nervous even though I'd had hours of training on top of all of my Hospice experience. I knew I'd be fine when alone, but there's something about being listened to by a pro that scares me. It sort of reminded me of how nervous I used to get at my piano recitals.

I had twelve years of piano lessons and was used to playing in front of large crowds at county fairs, malls, restaurants, etc., but the piano recitals always got to me. I hated them because I knew I'd be playing in front of professionals.

The counselor handed me my first case file. I looked it over and read the history of the patient and looked for any notes written by the Hospice workers to see if there was anything that might be an issue. There were notes in the file about an emotionally unstable family member, and I brought that to the counselor's attention. She asked if I felt comfortable in making the call, or if I wanted to move on to something less complicated. I decided to go ahead and make the calls.

My first call was to the wife of the deceased. As I pushed the buttons on the phone, I felt very unsure of myself. What if I screw this up? What if I say something stupid? This woman has lost her husband, and I take that responsibility seriously.

She answered the phone and I told her my name and told her that I was a volunteer with [name of my Hospice org] Hospice. My first mission is to ask if she's received the mailings and ask if she had any questions about them. Then there is a list of things that I need to try to work into the conversation to get a feel for where she is in the grieving process and how she's doing in general. It needs to be conversational, so it doesn't sound like we're going through a checklist.

About two minutes into the conversation, I relaxed. This was a lovely sounding 84 year old woman who was so happy to hear from me. She shared with me how her life has been since the death of her husband and I listened. I suddenly quit being a Hospice volunteer, and resumed my normal personna as a listener. As I was listening to her talk, I'd look over at the counselor every now and again just to get confirmation that I was saying the right things. She kept mouthing "wow" as the conversation got longer and longer. I ended up talking to this wonderful lady for almost a half an hour and I could tell in the end that it was good for her to talk to someone. It was good for me too, because I felt like I was doing something important.

After I hung up the phone, the counselor told me that it was an excellent call and that I sounded very affirming and caring. She said that she was impressed that this lady shared so much with me. Normally, the calls are maybe 10 minutes long. Mine was a half an hour.

Next was the son. It was unclear whether I was calling a cell phone, work phone, or home phone, so I was nervous about that. I planned in my head what I'd say if it was work, because certainly I don't want to put someone in a position of talking about their grief while at work. Fortunately it was his home, and he was there. Again, my nervousness melted away as I talked to him and I just became me, and listened just as I would to anyone in my own life. This call was a bit more complicated, and it had to do with the unstable family member. He shared with me that this family member has been emotionally abusive to their mother and to him. He was also worried about his mother's physical safety. I was writing notes to the counselor as he was telling me this information so she could help me in what to say to him. We ended up writing notes back and forth while he talked to me and I would pass along information that the counselor wanted me to share with him. Eventually, I asked him if it would be OK for her to call him next week so she could help them with the situation. He was grateful for that offer. This call lasted 20 minutes.

Again, the counselor told me that this is not the norm. That I shouldn't expect that people will be talking to me and giving me all of this information. Apparently she doesn't know my reputation.

That is all the time I had alloted myself, because I was basically using my lunch hour (+) to do this last bit of my training. I will be going in on Saturdays to make the calls as soon as they can get the logistics worked out.

It felt good. Really good. I was so energized after this hour and felt once again that this is what I am supposed to be doing with my life. Whether it's as a grief volunteer or maybe later as a professional grief counselor, I know for certain that this is what I'm supposed to be doing.