Wednesday, May 15, 2019

A dream come true - Paige



You know you are in reunion when…. You dream about natural-family and the dream has some facts in it and not just wishes!

For instance:
Last night I had a dream about my natural father’s family. My four siblings, nieces and nephews were there. My Nfather’s wife was also there. (My Nfather is deceased and has been since 2015.) In the dream, we were all together just shooting the breeze and hanging out at my niece’s 21st birthday party. It is an interesting dream because, in two weeks, this is actually going to happen in waking life. I’ve been invited to the party!

I love it when my natural family shows up in my dreams.

My actual reunion initially began with a phone call in January of 1988. I had spent the prior summer researching and sleuthing all over town. It was pre-social media and definitely pre-Internet. Using microfiche was the hoity-toity technology of the day.

Before finding my family, I found my natural mother’s ex, in old criss-cross city directories. He was very kind but sadly told me that she died in 1976 at age 36. I never had a chance…not even close to a chance of meeting her. The upside: My natural mother’s passing was not due to anything hereditary, so with this news I received my first morsel of health history. The ex was estranged from the rest of her family, and it had been years, but he had enough info, sketchy but good enough, to help me locate one of my two sisters and her dad in Long Beach, CA.

After writing a letter to the address I found, that note led to a phone call with our older sister who was living near Portland, OR. The older sister called me, we must have talked for close to three hours about what had happened, and the rest is history. Since January of 1988, my sisters, some cousins, and I have shared in six weddings, two funerals, a meet up in Chicago for a US Navy graduation, (Wow! What an experience!) Most recently, we celebrated with a 30th “reuniversary” vacation to Disneyland! It is a beautiful, fun and sacred time when we spend time together. Due to everyone living so far apart plus budget limitations, we do the best we can. We three sisters feel natural and comfortable when we are together. Like Disney, it is a magical experience.

I also found my natural father back in the 80s. Technically, I found him in three days in 1987, which is almost as fast as when people find and confirm an identity of a loved one in today’s world via Facebook, but I did not act on reaching out right away. I needed time to process all these new truths surrounding my real life. I was scared; afraid that he would reject me, fearful that he might not be the kind of person I would want to know, and filled with trepidation because what if he actually was a terrific guy, and would I be able to respond to that?

As it worked out, after my first contact by letter including copies of my birth documents so he knew I was not scamming him, (he lived in town about 20 minutes away from my house) we spoke on the phone once and then met at a local Denny’s. He, my husband and I spent close to three hours sharing life stories, a few jokes and some nuggets of general life advice. He seemed like a cool, fun-loving guy. The thing was, I was a secret from the rest of his family.

We were supposed to meet for a second dinner. He phoned the restaurant, (At least he cared enough to call.) to say he had to cancel because one of his kids had been in a car accident and was taken to University Hospital. During that call, he asked if I believed him, and I said I did, (because what else can you say?) He also said, “I’ll call you”, and we hung up. I phoned the hospital the next day because, well, I believed him, but not 100%. They told me, (pre HIPPA laws) that my other sister had been there but had been released. He did tell the truth about that part, so OK, but that “I’ll call you” line?

I’d had too many failed dates and job interviews to know what “I’ll call you” meant…

My husband and I mused that should he die, maybe someone would find the letter and copies of documents I had sent back in 1987, assuming he had saved the papers. I had the feeling he was a saver.

15 years later, (2002) my adoptive mom was in town visiting over Mothers’ Day. I’d secured tickets for us plus my two daughters to see the Broadway play, Mama Mia. (Cool Mothers’ Day gift/ Girls’ Night activity, BTW.) Little did I know that the crux of the plot of that show is a father identity story. That night, we came home, and there was a missed call on my answering machine. The caller ID box said it was from someone in my Nfather’s immediate family, but they never left a message.

As it turned out, it was my other half-sister, my father’s other daughter. She called back the next morning. Once again, we had a three-hour conversation. (I was getting pretty good at these three-hour talks.) We chatted and naturally, I learned that the gift of gab was prevalent on both sides of my family! LOL, we spent that first summer together, connecting and sharing life experiences about growing up, our challenges as moms, marriages, etc. Our kids experienced the reunion as well. I remember them as elementary school-agers standing on the sidewalk in front of my new sister’s house looking at one another’s freckles, eyes, and hair.

It took my father a long time to work through his embarrassment over something that happened in 1961. Then he was ashamed of the fact that he avoided telling his kids about me. (Apparently, his wife knew but promised him she would never say a word.) His wife eventually decided that enough was enough and made him be forthright when she realized that as they aged, secrets like this one needed to be resolved in order to honestly have inner peace and wellness.

Since that time, we have also experienced a couple of weddings and graduations, many family holiday meals, two funerals and the birth of a baby. (One grand niece was born on the same day that my daughter, a nurse, was working in labor and postpartum at the same hospital.) When my natural father died, I gave the eulogy. It was a unique perspective but accurate enough. I saw the man in ways no one else could have imagined. He was a proud American veteran, a dedicated worker, lover of sports, US history enthusiast, took great pride in his work, and was very brave when facing illness and other challenges he never expected he’d have to deal with.

Today, all my siblings and I strive toward and enjoy making memories for our kids and grandkids, nieces, and nephews. Our reunion is successful because we focus more on the here and now and less on the “coulda-shoulda-wouldas” of long ago before we had any say-so. We accept the past as a part of the history and culture of the times, but now have heightened awareness regarding single mothers’ resources and how other adoption practices have evolved over time. In addition, we share new knowledge re childcare, parent care, and other life-hacks for keeping our families together. We do not harbor anger about the lost past.

We just cannot.

Reunion on all sides of my family is about focusing on the present; preserving relationships with family ties and making the most out of the time, we do have together. We are all parts of the “Sandwich Generation” these days. We care for aging parents, natural or adoptive, juggle our own hectic job schedules, and are supporting our kids as young adults, while they emerge out of our homes and into the workforce, one-by-one, hopefully, better enlightened than ever before. We also love our dogs and cats, good food and fun music.

For me, every reunion, be it via plane flights or just driving 20 minutes across town for a dinner, is a major feat and a chance to enlighten outside people who have never experienced the same type of connectedness. (Let’s be honest here, it’s kinda fun to watch a newbie friend’s, total stranger’s or a relative’s eyes and face light up when we explain who we all really are!) Our family push-back has been minimal to none. My natural-people seem to all get it. My adoptive people have accepted that this is the way. My adoptive mom, (A-dad passed on in 1996.) has even been included in blended Thanksgiving and Christmas gatherings.

We are a family. We are diverse politically, financially and religiously, but still, we are a family. We are one, and we care. We revel in reunion. We rejoice, and we know that our stories are not finished yet. When we gather for family events, we are noisy, silly, fun loving but also organized in an offbeat, cacophonous sort of way. I am happy. I feel fulfilled. I feel real and a part of something in ways I never could prior to the reunion.

My reunions have gone beautifully. In my case, my dreams have and do come true.



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