Searching for Roots

Soon after I wrote the post about needing to make a decision about my Hospice organization, I sent an email to the Hospice counselor I was working with. I shared everything with her; the reasons I was thinking about moving to another Hospice and the fact that I still hadn't felt any sort of answer either way.

I believe that cleared my conscious enough to keep an open mind when I went to a grief training session at the new Hospice organization.

I got to see another side of the person I'd interviewed last Friday, and it was a good one. She has a WONDERFUL sense of humor (yeah, I know- seems weird to think that there can be humor when death and grief is the topic...). Within four hours, my decision was made.

I completed the background check paperwork and turned it in. As long as they don't find out my past as a hardened criminal ( ) I'll start working with them in a couple of weeks.

I like the way they do things there. They first send a packet of information to the families, and also include the phone number that they'll be using to call them. This lets them know to give us another number if ours is their cell number and they do not wish to be contacted via cellphone. Calling people's cell phone numbers ALWAYS made me nervous.

They call them in the first month, but then they also call them about three months later. I *LOVE* that, because as I wrote in my blog, my experiences with the newly grieving are vastly different than those three months down the road.

I'm extremely comfortable with this decision, so I know it's the right one. I've sent an email to my former volunteer coordinator as well as the counselor I worked with.

During training on Saturday, we had a really interesting exercise that I thought I'd share. This is the third "new volunteer" training that I've taken and I've learned something different from each one. It's amazing how much there is to learn about grief, but even more- about myself.

The trainer is the grief and bereavement counselor for that Hospice organization and she uses this exercise in her grief groups.

There was a large table in the room that contained about 100 magazines going back almost 10 years. I'm sure they'll be returned to the doctor's office soon. We were asked to think about someone who most recently died that was significant to us and then cut out pictures from magazines to represent that person or how you feel about that person.

I was surprised at my immediate reaction, because I thought of my father. Interestingly enough, he died over 10 years ago, but I didn't find out until February of last year. So, to me- he died last year.

Instead of shooing off that thought, I decided to go with it and see where those magazines took me.

As I rummaged through the assortment of magazines, my hands started shaking and I could feel that something was bubbling under the surface, but what was it? It's amazing to me how I'm able to really *feel* other people's emotions and understand what those feelings represent. But my own? It takes a lot of work for me to figure out what I'm feeling; which is a large part of why I blog.

Eventually, I came up with the collage at the bottom of this post.

Everyone else had mostly pictures in their collage- mine were words. Maybe it's because that's how I think of my father- I don't have clear pictures (memories?) of him- although I know what he looked like- but I have a lot of stories.

When we finished our collage, we were asked to explain what it all meant. I felt a little embarrassed that I made mine about someone that I don't even know, when other people were making theirs about people that they were obviously very close to. To me, it felt like it might appear that I was making light of this exercise. But I wasn't.

This exercise showed me that there is more under the surface that I need to process. Not because of the words on the collage, but the feelings that kept bubbling to the surface, but never quite get there. Not necessarily of his death, but everything.

Of course, the most important thing is the happiness I've found in the family that he left behind.

(put your cursor over the words to see what each one indicated to me):

I’ve been wanting to write about the trip to visit my grandmother since we got back, but life has gotten in the way; all of it really good. We’ve been picking out carpet for the new house, getting rid of things in the old house, and making plans for all of the fun things we plan to do after we move. The biggest news this week is that we signed our closing documents on Thursday and should have the keys in our hot little hands on Tuesday.

In addition to the fun stuff, we’ve experienced WIND STORM 06 in my little town, making the electricity go in and out and internet completely out. Does Mother Nature not understand that I get a little woozy when I’m without Internet connection for extended periods of time? I can’t even use my cell phone here to connect because I do not get reception here (but will have lovely reception at the new house!) I’m writing this post with no internet connection, intending to upload it once I get connectivity.

So, on to the purpose of this post.

The trip to visit my family was everything that I could have imagined. It’s hard to believe that a year ago I didn’t know these people, yet now they are family. In addition to the purpose of the trip, it was so nice to spend so much time with my sons. I enjoy their personalities so much and wish I could see them more often. They couldn’t be any more different, yet they both have the same gentle spirit underneath their distinguishable personality traits. This mama couldn’t be more proud of her sons and I was so excited to introduce them to this family that I’ve come to love.

As pulled up to my grandmother’s house I was almost overwhelmed with emotion because of what was about to happen. I was the first to walk in the door and immediately hugged and kissed my grandmother and then my aunt. Then the moment came where I was able to introduce my sons. I briefly looked at my oldest son and saw tears in his eyes, which told me that he too saw this for the monumental event that it was. It was hard to not become extremely emotional after witnessing this, but I put my Hospice skills at work and maintained my composure. Well, mostly anyway...

We brought our wedding video to share and I also remembered to bring the wedding album between my birth father and mother. My grandmother and aunt poured over every page, sharing their memories of the event as they turned the pages.

My aunt left the room briefly and came back with a gift for me from my grandmother. She gave me her wool scarf made from the family Tartan. My composure skills went down the drain at that point. Later, my aunt gave me something of my father’s. It was very surreal to hold something in my hands that belonged to my father. It’s strange, but he becomes more real to me with every picture and every story- and now I have something that belonged to him.

Later that evening the rest of the family met us at a restaurant to celebrate my grandmother’s 93rd birthday. Everyone was making comparisons of the boys to my father; in both personality and physical traits. I’m sure they were analyzing my sons just as much as my sons were analyzing them. As for me, I was just enjoying watching my sons find the same familiarity that I had found with this family. There was so much laughter at that table. They truly are like us.

The boys both have since told me that it feels as if we’ve always been a part of that family. I know I feel that way and I suspect we’re not alone in thinking this.

On the way home, I had a few moments alone with my oldest son. He told me how strange it was to see his physical traits on these people who, up until now, have been strangers. I told him that it was so cool for me to have someone who now completely relates to everything that I’ve been feeling. My sister relates to some parts of this because she recently met her birth mother, but she didn’t have the same “I look and act JUST like these people” experience that I have had. BJ relates to none of this, but that doesn’t make him any less supportive and enthusiastic about all of it. Now there are two people in this world, who happen to be my sons, that completely ‘get’ what I’m feeling. I don’t know why that’s so important to me, but for it to be my sons makes it even better.

I believe that this whole experience gives my sons and me just a bit more of a bond than we already had. We’ve been able to share something that most people in this world could never imagine experiencing. I’d like to think that this experience gives them something else to add to their ability to understand the big picture of life, and how everything happens as it should.

This certainly will be a story that they will share many times, just as I have. And, like me, they’re hoping to add more stories as we continue to visit and get to know our ‘new’ family.

Meeting her first-born’s, first-born’s, first-born.

Much, much more to follow......

I'm setting the publish time on this post so it publishes as I'm in the air, on my way to something I've dreamed about for many years.

Tomorrow my boys will meet their great-grandmother, my birth father's mother, for the first time. For those of you who haven't been reading my blog over the past year, you can catch up in my Searching For Roots category to see why this is such a monumental event.

Growing up, I never really thought much about my birth father. I suppose it's because I was blessed with such a wonderful dad, a man who has been an important part of my life since I was five. It wasn't until I started having children of my own that thoughts of my biological heritage started coming to the forefront of my mind.

As I've mentioned in previous posts, there is no question that I inherited most of my physical traits from my father. As my children grew, I could see that they also resembled my father in remarkable ways. I think that was really what started my desire to search for him. I wanted to see a three-dimensional version of the black and white pictures I had tucked away in my cabinet.

The urge grew stronger as I saw my children develop into young men. I was so proud of my boys and I wanted my father to see what he helped bring into this world, because in a way, if it wasn't for my father, I wouldn't be here- nor would these two beautiful spirits that were gifted to me.

I had many dreams of introducing my sons to my father. Dreams of the look on his face as he saw his features on two people that he's never met. More so, I wanted him to see the things that I see in my sons and be proud of the fact that they are part of his legacy.

I thought that dream was dead when my search revealed that my father has been dead for over a decade. I think that not only was I mourning the loss of someone who helped give me life, I also mourned the loss of a dream I'd held close for more than 20 years.

That dream hasn't come to an end though. I wouldn't have believed in my wildest dreams that my grandmother would still be alive (and very much kickin!) at 92 years of age. With the help of an angel, I found my grandmother and the rest of my father's family last July. BJ and I flew to meet her in August.

Nope- I didn't waste any time!

Tomorrow at approximately 11 a.m. PST, I will introduce my sons to my grandmother. The very idea of it floods me with emotion and I know that this is just a small piece of how I'll be feeling in that very moment. I can scarcely imagine the joy I'll feel because I believe that this moment will be the culmination of the 20 year journey.

I chose to do this for her birthday because I can't think of a greater gift than to introduce her to part of the heritage that was left by her son.

In the grand scheme of things, maybe this was how it was all supposed to play out. Surely the death of my father broke my grandmothers heart into a million pieces. I cannot imagine the pain of losing your child. I'm sure she had no idea that somewhere in the background I was out there searching and would eventually bring my family, a part of her son, into her life.

I certainly cannot fill the void in her heart that was left when my father died, but I know without a doubt that this will be a very joyful event for her.

As will it for me.

BJ is gone on a business trip tonight, so I've had some time on my hands. I've been looking over my "searching for roots" category and have done a lot of thinking about the journey I've taken this year. I am amazed at what a journey it's been.

I'm going to post something that is a little scary for me because I know some of my birth father's family read my blog. Hopefully, they know what I'm about and know that my first concern is to do no harm. Even so, I must be true to myself and that's what this blog is all about. I write to know what I feel and I'm feeling some very powerful feelings right now.

I've been searching off and on for the past 20 years or so for my birth father. To be honest, I was hoping for answers as to why he chose to not be a part of my life. It's hard for me to comprehend being half of someones genes and not wanting to know how they were or what type of person they grew to be. I look at my two sons and cannot imagine having a day, sometimes even an hour go by and not think about them.

Part of me thinks it's because I'm a mother. I believe that mothers are inherently programmed to protect and look after their children. Maybe it's the nine months they were one with that child. Fathers don't have the benefit of living with another life, feeling that life move inside of them.

I never imagined that once I found my father he'd be dead. I can honestly say that I never really visualized that moment that we'd meet face-to-face, and I'm not sure how I'd feel if I'd of been given that opportunity. I know without a doubt that anger would not be part of the flurry of emotions. Fear might have been in place. "Did I meet up to his expectations? Did I accomplish enough? "Does he see parts of my mother in me that made him leave? Will he leave me again?" All of these fears constantly circled in my head every time I made a concerted effort to continue my search, and it made me afraid to pursue as hard as I could have.

As a believer that all things happen as they are meant to happen, I know that it was not in the cards for me to ever meet my father. In the same light, I know that I was meant to have the dad I was blessed with- the man my mother married when I was five. I believe my dad taught me a lot about how to view life. My dad has what I like to call a quiet sense of humor. He's not boisterous, nor does he strive to be the center of attention- but he's damned funny. My dad can have me on the floor with just one sentence. The thing is, you have to pay attention, or you'll miss it.

I can't help but be a little sad that I never met the man that was half responsible for bringing me into this world. I've learned a lot about my father from his family- my family- since July. I've learned that he was extremely smart, very sensitive and had a quick wit. He was also very handsome. Except for the handsome bit (no woman wants to be known as handsome!), I possess many of his traits. Nobody has described him this way, but I suspect he was just as passionate as I am. Like me, he seemed to like to dabble in lots of different things and succeeded in anything he tried.

This picture is of me at the same age as my father was in his picture above. I don't know why this is so important to me, but I would have liked to know that he was proud of me. I take such pride in my children and would like to think that if he knew me, he'd be proud of me. Since he is no longer alive, it's enough to know that my grandmother- his mother, is proud of me. I love hearing her say that I am like him because I know how much she loved him.

I am a little sad that I have not been able to create a relationship between his other daughters- my two sisters. Maybe one day we'll try a little harder to bridge that gap. Until then, I'm happy with the relationships that I have built thus far.

I want so badly to feel his presence just as I feel other family members that have passed on. But I don't. I'm sure it's because I wouldn't recognize him, and that makes me sad. I know about him, but I don't know him.

It's been a big year for me; one I never really thought I'd have the opportunity to live. I know without a doubt that the timing of all of this was right and I have much to be grateful for. Maybe one day I will have the opportunity to meet my father after I've left this world. If I do, I'll want him to know that I have no regrets and I hope that he doesn't either.

My life is as it was supposed to be.