Ode to Dad

Thank you, Dad, for having been such a big part of my life. Thank you for having guided me through my childhood, into my teens, and still today giving me something I can lean on. No, we may not be related, but I'm learning that's not nearly as important as having a deep connection with someone who will provide a soft landing when the launch is scary.

You've been here for me even though I didn't think I needed to check in with you. I was just so hurt by the fact that you never told me about ME. Maybe that's how men and women are different. I would tell my daughter as soon as she was old enough to understand the words that she was adopted and that she was chosen--by me--out of love, but that if she wanted to "find herself" I would support her in that. My father is a coward for not having shared this truth with me sooner.

Of course, that means my mother was a coward too. She never told me either and there goes my theory on gender differences. Ah. So much for that.

Everyone shares what they share when they share it and so what if it hurts everyone around them. We're all just out for our own damn selves. And, on that note, I underscore the fact that I'm glad I finally called Dad and had The Talk with him. He didn't keep my true ME from me because he wanted to hurt me. He did it because there was never really any moment at which telling me meant more than parenting me did.

I thank him for having made that difficult choice.
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Nine Rooms updates every Tuesday - Gina - Nick - Claire - Alan - Joey

Joey Is Smart

I never thought I'd say that. But he is. Maybe not smart. Maybe wise.

I felt so connected to him when he told me, basically, "You have a choice. Keep suffering or move on. Your decision and yours alone." I went to kiss him with gratitude (no chemical clouding of the emotions, this time) and he put his finger to my lips and said, "Not yet. I'm the last thing you need right now. But... I'm here when I am what you need." I just felt so filled with hope at that point, and I'd been feeling a whole lot of hopelessness up until then.

So, that's nice. And he's right. It's not the time for us to be more than roommates. I'm just so glad to have a friend in him, whatever happens.

Before all of that, back when I was still helpless and hopeless, Nancy and I got together and talked about Sheila, how she's doing with all of this, how Nancy is doing with all of this, how I am doing with all of this. I think I'll sit down with Sheila herself next week or so. I think it would be good for us.

But first I need to talk with Dad. I now realize (thanks, Joey) that this has been painful for him. Heck, it's also been painful for my birth dad, my late birth mom, my birth aunt, my late adoptive mom, everyone. I've been selfishly looking at how painful this discovery has been for me and not really thinking about how much pain has to have been swirling about in this family (all versions) for a quarter-century. What a relief this must be for everyone!

I'm so thrilled to have a shift in my perspective finally. Joey is smart. I'm going to call my dad now. I won't blog again until I've done so. I owe him a really long talk. I'm ready now.
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Nine Rooms updates every Tuesday - Gina - Nick - Claire - Alan - Joey

MIA

I don't want to be reachable right now. Everyone back home wants to check in on me about the terrorist whatnot and I don't want to be checked on. If I'd had any plans to go back to the states anytime soon, I'd be back-burnering those. I feel homeless. No place is my home at this point.

I did enjoy my visit to Sheila's, but I can't really put into words how it felt. We're equal parts confused and pleased to know one another. At least we both feel that way. Nancy is fun. I think, once my heart and head sync up and I'm okay with knowing I'll never meet my mother, I'll enjoy my friendship with her even more.

Dad, if you're reading my blog this is for you: I GOT YOUR MESSAGES. I will call you when I hate you less for never having told me that you knew who my birth parents were. I could've met my mother before she died if you weren't such a coward.
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Nine Rooms updates every Tuesday - Gina - Nick - Claire - Alan - Joey

Crap.

I mean, I guess it's not crap. It's something. It's something concrete and that's more than I had when I got here. But it's not good news. I mean, maybe it is semi-good. I don't know. It feels like it sucks. Joey had some perspective but his own odd life just makes mine look normal (and I didn't think that was possible). So, I guess that's okay. I can't talk to anyone else, it seems. I can't even try to talk to anyone else. I just keep crying and going for walks. This just isn't what I expected and... well... I don't know WHAT I expected (and I thought I had braced myself for anything), but it wasn't this.

Dear Gina,

Thank you for writing. Nancy had prepared me that you might do so.

Years ago, when I was Sheila Reynolds, I was seeing a man named David Crawford. We were together for a year and a half and eventually rented a place in Camden, where we planned our lives together (marriage, family, pets). Or so I thought. Being a young woman about the age I was at the time this happened, I'm sure you know that men aren't always in the same state of mind as they would have you believe. Gina, basically David slept with my dear sister, Daphne, and that's where you entered the picture. Really, it's difficult to say who was more horrified out of all of us when the truth finally came out: David for having the affair, my sister for betraying me, or me for having trusted either of them.

David left before you were born. (Well, really, I kicked David out even though that took little persuasion.) Daphne couldn't bring herself to--alone--raise the baby she had created with my boyfriend. I couldn't bring myself to care for the baby my sister had created with the man I now hated. It was complicated. We were young. Perhaps I would make a different choice now. But when you're in your twenties and heartbroken, you don't want memories of the man who stomped on your soul. Certainly, if you have to hide away the photos and love letters, imagine how you feel about the idea of raising a child that is nothing but photos and love letters and looks and sounds and emotions. It wasn't an easy decision.

As you know, you were adopted by the Nelsons. Your wonderful mother and loving father raised you happily in America. By the sound of things, they gave you a better life than we ever could have hoped to provide.

A few years later--after dating around and traveling quite a bit--I reconnected with a very good man (Nancy's father). This, of course, would be Peter Hardwick, a friend from my childhood in Richmond. I had cut all ties with Daphne, but kept in touch with your mother and father. I know you may wonder, then, how it is that they would never tell you about us, but I begged that they agree not to tell you. They honored those wishes (the wishes of a confused yet selfish young woman, I know). I kept in contact with your sweet parents as well as your family lawyer, so that should the worst have happened, I would have taken you back. I would never have wanted anything bad to happen to you, because you had been through enough. I do hope you believe me, that I wanted what was best for you. Still do.

Gina, as hard as this email is to write to you, the hardest of it is still to come. I am so sorry to tell you that your mother died six years ago. She moved up north and had a family of her own there. She married a man named Grimshaw and they lived in Warrington, where they had two boys. But that is truly all I know. You see, Daphne and I hadn't spoken for more than twenty years before she died. We had thought, for the first few years after your adoption, that we would be able to put aside our differences and rebuild our relationship, but it was never to be. We come from a stubborn lot. I'm sure you know this. By the time I learned she had passed on, I was too ashamed to get in touch with her immediate family after the funeral. If I couldn't make contact in twenty years, why bother them now that she had gone? Perhaps you'll want to get in touch with them. I can offer to help set you on the right path to make that happen.

David Crawford may still be alive, but I am not sure where he would be. I know his family came from Norfolk.

I know this is a lot for you to take in all at once, and I feel that I have done the right thing by writing it all out for you now. Since you arrived, Nancy has discovered that I had a sister she never got to meet. You have now learned who your mother was and that I am your aunt and that Nancy is your cousin. I don't regret the truth coming out and you should not be worried about anything anymore. While in the last few weeks we have had to face reality the hard way, a weight has been lifted from our shoulders and love has entered our hearts because we have you, in some small belated way, back in our lives again.

I love you Gina, please come and see me.

With all of my heart,
Aunt Sheila

I don't know. I just don't know.
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Nine Rooms updates every Tuesday - Gina - Nick - Claire - Alan - Joey

Mirroring

Have you ever been walking along some place in which you would never expect a full-length mirror and then there is one, startling you with your own image? It's disconcerting.

Like these baby photos.

Nancy brought photos of Sheila and I swear they're me. While I really enjoyed spending more time with Nancy (and I'll share our stories and laughs later) I can't even think of anything beyond the look in Sheila's childhood eyes. I had that look. I have to make contact. I can't wait for a face-to-face. I have to show her my photos. I have to know.

So, Nancy is going to relay an email for me. I've scanned photos and, if Nancy agrees that it's time to do so, she's going to share this with Sheila. I cannot imagine the stress this might put on their relationship but I can't even begin to think about that. I must selfishly move forward and try to get some answers in my own life. Maybe the fact that I care whether I'm sending Nancy's world into a tailspin, raising questions about her mother that she never knew she would have, means I'm less likely to cause undue harm than if I were to just charge in, unthinkingly. I must try to remember that I care about Nancy and like her a whole lot... and that she may be my sister.

God, as much mental and emotional prep as I've done on this (trying to be sure that I not get ahead of myself, not get too excited about the possibilities, not jump to the conclusion that someone who may not be my mother is my mother), my heart is racing.

Here's the email I'm sending.

Dear Sheila,
I am so grateful to Nancy for choosing to share this email with you.
Perhaps she has already prepared you for what it says. If she has not and you are reading this with no context, let me ask you to brace yourself (and ask that you indulge me, if I am off-base).
I think I may be your daughter.
Please take a look at the photos I've attached to this email. There are several of me as a child along with several of you as a child that Nancy shared with me.
I guess I am using these photos as a way to prove to myself that I may have relatives here (I am an American), but perhaps you don't even need to see them. Did you have a daughter 25 years ago and put her up for adoption?
I suddenly feel formal and inappropriate for putting this in an email. I'm sorry.
Can we meet? Even if I am not your child, I do hope to meet you. I am fascinated by your hatmaking business and have been greatly enjoying spending time with Nancy. As her friend, I am sure I would like to know you.
I hope you would like to know me too.
Thank you for reading.
Gina Nelson

I suddenly hate this email. Not sure I'm going to send it. I thought I was more eloquent than this. How do you introduce yourself to someone you think knew you first, before you were even alive?
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Nine Rooms updates every Tuesday - Gina - Nick - Claire - Alan - Joey