Searching for Roots

Yesterday I was at Hospice House, making my phone calls and ran into an experience I've not yet had. Well, at least via Hospice.

I'm going to backtrack a little, if you don't mind. An ex-boyfriend of mine used to refer to my habit of doing this as "going around the block and coming in the back door". Sometimes my thoughts are very scattered and it takes me a while to put them together. Anyway, I read an article in Oprah last month that described me exactly. This woman said she wrote so she'd know what she was thinking. As succinct as that is, it perfectly describes why I write sometimes.

Often, I feel agitated, or sad, or any of the other various emotions but can't put my finger on it until I start writing. Some of my blog posts have started out as one thing and ended as something vastly different. Sometimes, so different that I'm compelled to change the title of the post.

I've mentioned this before, that I'm not often very good with verbal communication, especially when it's something very important to me. It's because my thoughts are all up in my head, swimming around like alphabet soup. Writing out my thoughts, then putting them in some sort of order usually gives me the answer(s) I was looking for, or at least explains to me why I'm feeling a certain way.

I even have a book lurking on my hard drive, but like the thoughts in my brain, it's so jumbled right now that it's nowhere near ready for editing or publishing. I believe (and have been told) it's compelling, and the message behind it is important, but I have to wait until I feel up to organizing it so it makes sense to the reader.

So, onto yesterday's experience.

I love it when I have the opportunity to talk to several family members. It gives me more insight to family dynamics than if I'd of just talked to one person. The difficult part of this is that I cannot tell one family member that I've talked to another family member because what I do falls under HIPAA laws. For example; a daughter was worried that her mother wasn't doing enough to handle her grieving. I had just talked to the mother prior to this call and knew that she was going to one of our seminars as well as had just signed up for a six week group. I knew that her mother was doing a lot to care for herself, but I couldn't reassure the daughter. That's difficult for someone like me, because I am such a caretaker. I wanted to be able to reassure her, but couldn't.

The call I was referring to at the beginning of this post really tested my resolve to separate my personal life and feelings from my Hospice experiences. The person on the other end of the call said that she was handling the death of our patient OK, but wanted to know if we had any books on grieving a child that was given up for adoption. We went on to talk about this topic for over a half an hour, and I knew that I could not talk about my personal experiences or share with her resources that I'm aware of to help her find her child. I had to watch what I said very, very carefully.

My job yesterday was that of a grief volunteer, not adoption resource. I suspect that giving her any information outside of those boundaries would have violated some type of rule and I was not willing to put my organization in jeopardy.

I sent her some booklets on grieving and wrote her a little note that after reading through them, I felt she could replace the word 'death' with 'adoption' in her mind as she read the literature. I sent my thoughts her way as I sealed and addressed the packet, and I wished for her that she finds what she is looking for.

Days like yesterday make me realize that I cannot save the world. I must do what I can within the opportunity and boundaries that I'm given. The important part is to learn to accept those boundaries and move on.

My cousin [waves to cuz] recently scanned our grandmother's vacation journal from the late 40's and early 50's and sent it to me. What a treat! It was so fun to read her thoughts as she and the family traveled the country in the brand new Cadillac. I loved her ratings for places that they stayed, such as P.U.! My father even wrote a few entries in it, which seemed rather surreal to me. Seeing his handwriting and reading his teenage thoughts made him a little more real for me. It made me kind of wistful.

I decided a couple of months ago that I wanted to surprise my "new" grandmother for her birthday by flying my boys out to meet her. I want them to meet her just as much as I want her to meet them. They are just as excited (or at least pretend to be!) about learning all of these new things and meeting these new people as I am.

My grandmother has been on my mind a lot for the past few days and so I finally broke down and called her today. Have I mentioned what a sweet voice my 92 year old grandmother has? Well she does! She sounds just like a grandmother! I just love hearing the joy in her voice when she hears it's me on the other end, and I have no doubt that anyone who calls her gets the exact same reaction. She is just a joyful person. I suspect that has a lot to do with why she's 92 years old and still kickin'. [RisibleGirl is taking notes]

She mentioned that she was leaving soon to go get her eyes checked because she was sure she needed new glasses. I shared with her my horror that my eyes are showing their age and I need bifocals. Her response? "Oh honey, don't knock it. Bifocals are WONDERFUL". Tee hee- my grandmother says, "don't knock it".

She told me that she keeps the 8x10 wedding picture that I sent her on the table next to her couch so she can kiss it whenever she wants to. Isn't that just the sweetest thing you've ever heard? Yeah, I know- I sound like s silly school girl, don't I?

I decided to go ahead and tell her that I would like to bring my boys to meet her in February for her birthday and she was just thrilled. As far as I'm concerned, February can't come soon enough! When I told her that I know she'll love my boys because they're really good boys she said, "of course they are, because you're their mama". That's the biggest compliment anyone could ever give me.

So, the cat is out of the bag. Now I need to watch for good prices for flights. Four tickets- yeouch! but worth every penny.

I'm sorry to have kept you all in suspense about Saturday!

I got my wish and was able to accompany my sister in meeting her birth mother on Saturday. Yup, that's what I was hinting around about and those of you that take note of the categories I select for my entries probably caught on. I want my sister to share the details about the day when she can find time, because this is her story to tell- not mine.

BJ went to visit the person who bugs the living daylights out of me, and he said that the visit was actually kind of fun. This news confirms something I've suspected for a long time. She acts up around ME. Well, and all other women that BJ has ever introduced to her. I'll get into that at some other time.

My sister's sweetheart's (Sam) family is still in a family crisis (please send good thoughts his way), but he felt good enough about the situation to be able to break free for a while to meet my sister's birth mother yesterday.

Everything turned out just as it was meant to be. I'm sure of it. Well, mostly everything...

I seem to have gotten very clumsy and not managing spacial relations very well; making me run into walls and furniture. While chauffeuring some of the tourist rounds on Saturday I:

Almost hit a pedestrian


Ran a red light


Got lost at least 10 times (OK, this is not unusual for me. I forgot to bring my navigator with me)


Added a new 3 foot long scrape to the side of my car

I scraped a pole because I turned WAY too sharply. The sound was absolutely horrifying and sounded as if I'd find the side of my car peeled off like a sardine lid. Thankfully, it was just a really REALLY long scrape.

I'm sure my sister's birth mother thinks I'm the worst driver in the world. Really, I'm considered a good driver and am usually the one that carts my friends around. I've never EVER been in an accident that was my fault except this.

Saturday was a good day and I hope my sis finds time to write about it here.

I will forever be grateful to my sister's birth mother, because I cannot imagine my life without my sister. My life would have turned out negatively different if my sister wasn't in it. If one believes in soul mates, then there is no denying that my sister is mine.

I've learned time and time again to trust the timing and circumstances placed before me. Trite as it may sound, I firmly believe that everything happens for a reason. I'm glad that I'm one of the lucky ones who quickly understands the reason behind what seems to be the most negative of things and certainly the positive.

Saturday was most certainly a positive journey in the path of my life.

BJ made plans for us tomorrow to go visit someone that bugs the living daylights out of me. Not too many people get under my skin like this person, so I know that there is some sort of lesson in it for me. I sure wish we could pick and choose the people that have been placed in our lives to teach us lessons, but as my ex-husband's grandmother (whom I adored) used to say, "If wishes were fishes then we'd all have a big fish fry".

A short while ago I got a phone call from someone who needs me to be on stand-by tomorrow for one of the biggest (if not the biggest) events she's experienced in her life. The plan all along was for her sweetheart to be with her tomorrow to support her, but a possible crisis has emerged in his family and he may be needed there. I am truly honored to be the back up for this event, and so accepted it without hesitation.

I apologize for being so cagey with the details, but cannot share what this is about because it's not my story to tell.

As I talked to her today I assured her that if I'm meant to be with her, then I will. If her sweetheart is meant to be with her then he will be. Everything will happen as it's meant to happen.

I can't help but hope that I'm called upon to support her because she is one of the most important people in my life AND I wouldn't have to face that lesson I seem to be needing. But if that happened then it would mean that her sweetheart has had a crisis in his family.

So, I shall listen to the advice I gave her. Que sera sera, what will be- will be. I cannot control the future, nor take responsibility for how it plays out.

I'll just plan to be where I'm needed most tomorrow, and leave it at that.

BJ and I stopped at the (evil) post office on the way home from a shopping excursion at Costco yesterday. He came out with a stack of mail and handed it to me to sort in the car. I stopped sorting once I saw an envelope addressed from my grandmother.

I eagerly opened the envelope and found three items; two cards and a little hug certificate. I was so excited to see what my grandmother's handwriting looked like, even though I know it isn't her normal handwriting. She's still recovering from a shoulder injury and it's difficult for her to write, making the letter even more precious to me.

"My dear granddaughter... " Sigh...

It's amazing how three little words can bring such emotion out in me, but it did. She went on to write lovely things that meant a lot to me, and shared tidbits about her week; just like I'd always imagined a grandmother would do. I had no idea how much I've missed having a grandmother, but apparently I have. Or maybe I've missed having THIS grandmother.

I've always wondered about her, just as I've wondered about my father. I'm so thrilled that I have the opportunity to find out what she's like. I may or may not get a good feel for what my father was like but for some reason, it's not nearly as important to me as I thought it would be. What I've found to be truly important is the here and now and getting to know the people he gifted to me because he was my father.

I called my grandmother yesterday. As with the last time I called her, our conversation flowed effortlessly. It's funny, neither of us make much of an effort to catch up on the last 45 years. We just catch up on what has happened since the last time we communicated. It's as if the lost years don't really matter. Honestly? They don't.

All of this is happening as it is supposed to happen. I truly believe that I wasn't meant to have this reunion before now. My life seems to be wrapping up in a nice big bow lately, with everything coming together better than I could have ever imagined. I believe that my self-work of five years ago is paying off in leaps and bounds, just as I intended. That self-work prepared me to be in a place where I could gracefully accept my blessings and look forward to continued enjoyment of those blessings, rather than wonder when it's going to end or when it will all be taken away.

I don't worry about losing everything anymore. I feel safe.

My grandmother has mentioned more than once how proud she is that I consider her my grandmother. I know how she feels. I'm thrilled that she calls me her granddaughter. And she loves me, as I love her. Logic would tell me that we're virtual strangers, but my heart tells me something vastly different. She is my family.

My dear granddaughter.... three beautiful words that will ring in my head for a very long time.