Immediate Connection…

 

 

 

 

 

Searching for my birth-……………

Born…………

In……………hospital and given up for adoption.  

My name at that time was………………….

 Age…… 

Please help me by sharing this!

 

We’ve all seen them.  Photos posted here and there; a smiling face that beams with hope yet masks one more sad story of separation as they hold up a poster with details of the person they long to find. 

In my own years of searching, of always wondering, I could never quite bring myself to take such a giant forward step.   Instead, I silently admired those who made their valiant quests so very public on various social media sites.   Sure, my name and other data was out there in cyberspace, posted on one or two choice reunion sites and I shared my story here on this blog.  Public enough, at least for me.   It seemed, well…safer, protected in some way from judgmental eyes, people with no clue about my circumstances or those who probably didn’t give a damn.  Instead, almost three years ago, I chose to write about that empty spot in my life mostly to acknowledge the person involved and leave an honest record behind for my family.  And, yes, there was my hope the trail of information might someday lead to that slim chance of a reunion.

Oh boy, did it ever!

Two weeks ago, while at work, that remotest of possibilities took place with some help from Facebook’s private messaging.  You know, that little window that pops-up when one of your inner-circle friends on the site shares something not meant for all to see?   Well, there it was, in the “Other” folder and I almost…almost ignored it!  Suddenly, there was my maiden name, photos of a scanned document that I immediately recognized along with some messages.  My dear friend, Traci, was standing nearby and I yelled to her as I sat in disbelief, afraid that it was a mistake.  We both choked back tears as I kept staring at the screen and, in the span of a few seconds, there was an immediate connection as the name in the message window became real again; after 47 years, my birth son found me! 

Amazing, isn’t it?

So, where do we go from here, is what you might be thinking…right?  The answer is, we (Andrew and I) are moving forward.  Talking, messaging and getting to know each other as friends before we re-unite as family.   For me, the opportunity to explain, to find no anger from my birth son for the painful decision I made long ago,  to enjoy the support of my family, well, it’s the best possible gift.  I sit back and watch the comments fly on Facebook, enjoying so many similarities in the conversations that we all share.  Love it or hate it, the social media platform has paved the way for so many people to re-connect and situations like mine are the proof…an absolute positive.

The most important part of all this are the two people who have been, and will always be, Andrew’s parents.  All I did was to introduce him to this universe, they gave him what I was unable to all those years ago; they loved someone else’s child as their own. 

And I thank them!

 

Mama’s Losin’ It
One of the prompts from Mama Kat’s this time around was “something that made you smile this week”….honestly, my “something” has had me smiling, ear-to-ear, since January 31st!   What I’ve shared here isn’t an exercise in prose or poetry, it’s a long-overdue story, written from my heart.  For anyone who is searching for someone, never, ever give up.  Miracles, well, they do happen!

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Where I’m From

 

I am from travels across long and winding roads.  From musty clothes and a tattered suitcase.

 

     From the lonely U.S. Navy sailor on shore leave and the USO singer looking to escape, I am the aftermath.

 

I am from Huguenot, number 327.  Long dark halls where fear hid behind each door. 

 

I am from constant disagreements and hurt from Strollo, artistic talents from Havens and depression…from Smith.

 

I am the sarcastic one of Lloyd Chester and ever-critical like Mary Patricia but not as hateful as Mary Agnes.  I have Marjorie’s fleeting elegance… but not her voice.  I have Lee’s fingers guiding mine as I write …but not the music from his soul.

 

I am from kneeling in Catholic church until my knees were numb and my back ached from staying rigid.   From pain that was better than any punishment from the nuns who patrolled the aisle.

 

I’m from the poor shadows of decaying New Rochelle and the wealth of golden San Francisco.  Beef Stew and Pâté de Foie Gras.

                                                                                        

 

I am from Lilacs, briefly bursting with soft color and fragrance.   From sand that washes into the ocean with every storm. 

 

I’m from hindsight…and wishing, always wishing.

 

I am from dreams of different beginnings; from gathering moments into boxes of forgotten memories labeled… Indifference,  Anger and Why?    

 

Mostly, I am an outsider, safely standing on the edges of my life, wondering.

 

 

Mama’s Losin’ It
 

From Mama Kat’s Writing Prompts For 12.18….Complete the “Where I’m From” poem. 

 

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Some reasons to be missed…


I dreamed I was missing
You were so scared
But no one would listen
‘Cause no one else cared

After my dreaming
I woke with this fear
What am I leaving
When I’m done here?

 

From the moment I first heard it, this song, from the movie “Twilight”, captured my soul.  Haunting words and music that run through my mind as I rush through these golden years frantically trying to put my little world in order.

I don’t know if it’s just me, at this stage of my life, wondering about what I’ll leave behind.  Not material things, mind you, but the quality of memories in the minds of those closest to me, the people I’ve loved in my lifetime.

So much of what we speak about, on an almost daily basis, involves time; never having enough of it and painfully watching it speed past us with each passing year.

I worry about the mistakes I’ve made which might overshadow any of the positive things I’ve accomplished.  Let’s face it, when someone dies, everyone gathers to celebrate that departed life, in some fashion.  And then, time passes, softening the sorrow and sentimental imagery.  Painful thoughts, like sharp pricks of a pin, bring reminders of unhappy times, causing people to deliberately not think about that name engraved on a slab of marble.  That name, which once represented a loving human being, all too often, ends up being forgotten in a crowded field of hallowed ground.

We clean out our closets and attics, ridding ourselves of needless accumulations.  As our mortality stares back at us in a mirror, we rush to mend broken family fences or renew old friendships, keeping a wary eye on that mystical hourglass of time.  Why don’t we have this fear when we’re young enough to change things and mold our lives in a more positive direction?  This so-called wisdom we achieve in later life could be put to so much better use when there is an expanse of time still to be enjoyed…and fulfilled.

I want to be remembered, not with tears but with smiles.  Spare me any resentment, please don’t allow my memory to harbor thoughts of anger or emptiness; any of this would mean that my time on earth was wasted.

For now, I’m working very hard on some reasons to be missed.

 

So if you’re asking me
I want you to know

When my time comes
Forget the wrong that I’ve done
Help me leave behind some
Reasons to be missed
And don’t resent me
And when you’re feeling empty
Keep me in your memory
Leave out all the rest

 

Mama’s Losin’ It

From Mama Kat’s Losin’ ItWriting Prompts for 12/11/14
Take a line from a song you love and turn it into the title of your next blog post. Let the content follow.

 

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