I am returning “home” for the first time in close to 20 years this weekend. I call this place “home” because it was where I was born and partially raised. It’s where my mama and daddy are laid to rest, and the place I often wonder how I escaped with my own life. I also call this “home” the “scene of the crime” — not my crimes, but the crimes of my biological mother. Such twisted tales and deception abide in this place.
I’m not going back because I want to. I’m going back because I was asked to, and because I have questions that I need answers to. I need to know about my missing pieces. It must sound shrouded in mystery and that’s because it is! I’ve been riddled by the lack of details surrounding my conception and the events shortly afterward all of my life. It it weren’t so unsettling and real for me, I’d think it was just another fiction piece woven in one of my creative spurts.
The gist of the story: I was adopted and as I get older I am more curious about my biological mother. She died very young (in her 40’s) from liver cancer. I never met her and honestly, never really wanted to. I have met half siblings and relatives though, so I went to them when I was finally comfortable enough to ask questions about her. An aunt, who has tried to engage me with the “family” for a few years, made a deal with me. It is quite simple. I want to know about my mother and they have saved photos and information all these years for me. They won’t just mail it to me though — I have to visit them (spend time with them) to get it.
I finally swallowed my pride and agreed to visit. Then, irony or fate or luck stepped in and my aunt forgot that the weekend we planned for this visit was on a weekend that she would be out of town. If that weren’t enough, she then tells me that she hasn’t really spoken to my half-sister or my grandmother about the visit, so they are clueless. Perhaps she had planned it as a big surprise, but probably not.
I have other family and friends in that area so I tried early on to contact some of them to catch up. I am going to go anyway. I am going to do my part and keep my end of the “deal”. And if I leave without the information I want about my biological mother, then so be it. It has occurred to me that my being the child she gave up for adoption due to her adulterous affair and therefore cutting me off from my real family does not guarantee me anything. Maybe I’m not supposed to have the answers to my questions about her. Maybe when she turned me over to the parents who raised me, that was the end of my rights to her story.
I guess I will find out soon enough. I’m sure I will blog about it. So I guess this is only half of the whole post. You’ll have to stay tuned to see how it all ends…