Finding The Pieces
I have spent a lifetime looking for my mother.
In December last year I was finally able to make contact.
This blog started off documenting my adoption journey, so one would naturally assume that once I had found and contacted my mother that I should have shouted it from the rooftops, but I didn’t – couldn’t actually.
It went well, very well. My uncle told her that I had been found. Her reaction was everything a lost kid dreams of. She cried, she laughed, she was excited.
I on the other hand, was plain terrified.
My daughters and I sent letters, cards and a pressie. Our birthdays are in the same month so Mum reciprocated with cards for my birthday and my eldest daughters.
I promised to send more pics – I didn’t.
I decided to suprise her with a phone call, which was fantastic, and promised to write again – but I didn’t.
My mother broke the mold on everything I expected. She has a mental illness and I was told not to expect too positive a reaction. They were so wrong. Her card said everything I needed to hear. She was gentle and kind and totally mentally alert. It shocked me to my core.
It’s sad that the thing I have longed for all my life has scared me so completely that I am unable to enjoy it. I know she is waiting for me to write, as I waited for my father. Not writing is frankly cruel after all we’ve been through. I know how much the waiting hurts, but somehow I’m stuck.
I don’t know what to say or how. I am seldom speechless, but this unexpected grace has taken me so by suprise I have been rendered useless.
What has been given back to me is an enormous miracle, and certainly considering how many ‘impossible’ events took place for it to come into being – and yet here I sit – frozen.
I’m trying to understand what’s happening in my head, but it’s all mushy and twisted. I think it’s time to throw logic and order to the wind and follow my heart in all of this, after all that’s what kept me going all these years.
There was zero logic in the way things came together.
Zero order in the avalanche of love and care I received from people who were blood, but still strangers.
But there was heart – always heart.
My adoptive father used to say that heart was my main defining character. It dictated all the colours of all my passions and was fearless in it’s pursuit of truth and love.
I seem to have forgotten myself.
Perhaps it’s time to go back, so that I can finally go forwards again…..
