Reunion: 7/9/85

I've been obsessed with reading Blogs now for awhile thanks to a certain person whose name I will not mention, but she knows who she is!

I've so many thoughts running around in my head, so many things I want to share, there have been uncountable triggers. I just want to scream and cry and puke all at the same time. Mostly, I wonder what the hell I'm doing, and if I'm on the right path. I feel like I am always running, from what exactly I don't know. But I guess I need to find out. In order to find out, I think I need to continue to tell my story.

And so it goes...

A FedEx letter came to the house early July, 1985. WTH? Who would be sending a FedEx letter to aparents? A curious sort, of course I asked about it. "It's nothing." Well, I knew it wasn't nothing because they both looked liked they'd seen a ghost.

All was quiet on the homefront for a few days, and I knew sumpin was up! Finally they sat me down and told me it was a letter from my abandoners. No, they didn't use that word, I can't remember the exact word they used but I doubt it was "birthparents".

Holy crap!!!

It was like a punch in the gut. A good punch if you can imagine that. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I'd be found. Not at 15. Not at 18. Not ever. I'd always imagined pounding on her door years later after having poured blood, sweat, and tears into my search for answers. And I'd be angry. Damn angry pounding on that door.

Married? WTH? A brother? A full-blood brother? OMG.

Nope. Never imagined that. My mind would drift to half-sibs, but not much more than the likely possibility. Dad? Never thought of him too much, other than wonder if he even knew about me. Or if she even knew who he was. Remember adad said she was likely a prostitute. Now that didn't ring true, but then again I couldn't push the possibility entirely out of my mind.

What happened after that was somewhat of a blur, and it seemed to happen at lightening speed. A phone call. "I love you". Those were the first words my mother said to me. I don't remember what I said, but I do clearly remember thinking how could she love me?

HOW COULD SHE???

They lived so close. All this time. So close, and yet so far away. Two different worlds. They were all living their lives, and I was trying to survive mine. What took them so long? I loved them and I hated them at the same time.

Soon some pictures arrived. Wow. My mother. My real mother, she exists. And my father. And my brother. Separate photos. Not together. Did my mother have the sense to not send a happy family photo? Could she have had the compassion to know that would have stabbed at my heart? I've never thought about that until just now. I'll never know. I know it is not something a narcissist would do, but maybe she wasn't full-blown by then.

A meeting was arranged. We'd meet at a half-way point. Later I'd find out we met in the town I was born in. Did my mother pick the place on purpose? I don't know.

It was about a 45 minute drive. Amom took me. We met in a McDonald's parking lot. I saw her before she saw me. I tried to run to her, but amom had a grip on my arm.

She looked beautiful, with long ironed straight raven hair. Ivory skin, and piercing dark eyes. My eyes. My skin. My hair. I dared not touch her, I didn't want amom to get mad. Mother gave her a rose, for what I'm not sure. For cleaning up her mistake? Well, we all know how that turned out. She didn't exactly do a bang up job, no pun intended.

Amom finally left the car, she had gotten in the back seat, I was in the passenger seat. I can't remember how many hours we had, maybe six at best. I do remember what I was wearing, lol. My ultra cool Jordache jeans, and an aqua-blue T-shirt that said "Hang loose in Hawaii". I remember I wanted to look nice to meet my mother, and I spent extra time feathering my hair just right. I wanted her to see I grew up pretty after all, and not the ugly baby she threw away.

"I thought you were going to thank me."

Those words would set the tone for our entire relationship. Of course I didn't realize it then. I just laughed out of shock. Here we were, she found me. This should mean she wants my forgiveness right? This should mean she wants to apologize right? This should mean she wants to make up for lost time, and be the mother she should have been all along right? This should mean she wants to do the right thing THIS time, right???

Why the fuck did she find me? She just wanted THANKS??? Well, tough shit. You don't get thanks for throwing away your firstborn. It doesn't work that way.

I didn't say anything that I can remember. I was in shock. And I was happy to be with my real mother. And I loved her as much I hated her. But I only told her I loved her. And when I had the chance I held her, and hugged her tightly and I never wanted to let go. I've never known a love so fierce, so wanted, so needed for my life to have any sort of meaning. Maybe I loved her too much, too soon. Maybe I shouldn't have held on so tight. Maybe I scared her; she was only 34 years old.