That night I remember not being able to sleep at all. I tossed and turned and couldn’t get the thought out of my head that I was going to “see” her the next day. It was what I had been waiting for.
Of course beyond that I was just trying to process all the information he had given to us. I was his granddaughter. There was no doubt about that. But he hadn’t seen my mother for all these years. Now what?
The next morning as we drove out to Magnolia again, I couldn’t help but be nervous. Even though I wasn’t meeting her, I was going to see a picture.
I don’t remember a lot about what was talked about before he actually went to get the picture from his room. Mostly just going over the information he had given us I think.
But before I knew it he was standing there and he was holding an envelope out to me.
I took it, and opened it up almost immediately. And there it was, the first of many photographs of my biological mother. The first glimpse of the woman that carried me, brought me into the world, and allowed me the freedom to live a better life. And she was beautiful. I was looking at each picture trying to see the resemblance between myself and her. I couldn’t see it in most of them, but there were a couple from when she was very young, that I had photos of myself where the expression was almost the same.
My Grandfather informed me that I could have one or two of the pictures to keep. He also informed me that he had come across an old address book of his, with my uncle’s last known address’ in them. He told me that he knew my mother would want to be found by me. That she would want a relationship.
His exact words were, “She’ll want to hear from you, and you’ll find your mother through Ken.” Ken was her step brother, so my Uncle, and from what I understood he was slightly slower. So we hugged and promised to write to each other and call, and we left.
And it was so bittersweet. Because I loved having found a grandfather, and I was so completely touched by his kindness while we were there. But I was also on edge because some of the information he gave us, as to why Robin didn’t want to be found by him, was unsettling. It just bothered me to think that there had been abuse or anything else involved. So this beautiful man, with the kind blue eyes that matched mine, however sweet and kind he was, was not who I was actually looking for anyway. And even though I promised to keep in touch, and knew I would, I also knew it wouldn’t be my first priority as it might have been.
I didn’t cry until we got back to the hotel. And then I wasn’t even sure about the emotions. Why was I crying? Why did I feel like this? Because the entire thing was an emotional roller coaster ride. And here I was sitting here, holding just a piece, one small piece of my past. A past I’d wondered about for so long.
I slept with that photograph every night for weeks. It came with me everywhere I went. Stuck in wallets, pockets, propped in my car. I showed it to anyone who would look at it, and wondered often if anyone else saw a resemblance.
After a few days of being home I was able to call Bret, my searcher. I gave him every address we had, and all of the information that we had been told.
Bret was smiling through the phone, I could hear it. He explained again, men don’t change their names. This is good information.
And so I was encouraged to write a letter to my Uncle Ken.
I knew I would do it, I just had no idea what to say, what not to say, how to say anything…..
It was probably the second hardest letter I’ve ever composed….
I will share it with you in another blog.
*Names have been changed to protect privacy
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Or check out the adoption blog for other great personal stories from members of the triad.