My husband and I were on vacation from our jobs last week. We used the time off to travel to a southern state to meet my oldest living relatives, my Grandfather’s sisters. They are 97 and 93 years old. I may never get another chance to see them, so I went. My husband loves me enough to come with me.
I don’t know how many people would be willing to travel 7 hours just to meet some old ladies, but I did. It helped me a lot.
Growing up as an orphan, I always dreamed of a family of my own. Sometimes I didn’t believe they existed. I thought I was created in a lab, or I came from outer space, or I was a robot. I never felt like a real flesh and blood human being. My mind couldn’t imagine a beginning to my story.
When I found my parents I finally knew that I was a real girl. I felt like pinocchio when the blue fairy turns him into a real boy. I belonged to the human race, just like everyone else. I didn’t know there was going to be a problem. I didn’t know that my parents weren’t so thrilled with being found after so much time. They had made peace with what they had done. They were convinced that it was good for me to have been given away. They never imagined that I wouldn’t be happy with their decision to leave me alone at 5 days old.
When they found out that I didn’t love being given up, and that I didn’t have a happy, magical childhood they didn’t want to know that. They didn’t want to look at me. They said I was cruel, abusive and bitter. I was too damaged to deal with. They had to protect themselves from me, their own child. The best way for them to deal with me was to push me away. Ignore me and hope I finally got the hint. I did. I got it loud and clear. Family is for other people, but not for me.
So I branched out. I found family on Ancestry.com. Family that didn’t resent me. Family that was happy to know me. They may not be my parents, but they are kin, and they actually care for me. I know it, because I feel it. They are not guilty. They are good. They think I am nice.
I also go to cemeteries and visit my dead ancestors. They don’t reject me. They listen, they don’t say a word. They are thankful for the visits, and the flowers. They don’t reject me because I’m not happy.