The Journey....

  On April 14th, I boarded a train heading north. I was going back to the city of my birth, the city in which I met the father of my son, and to which I returned after my son was born and lost to me through adoption. I have gone back there before, but this time was different. This time it was different because this time I was different. I was going back following my own best instincts rather than listening to the "experts" who knew how adoption reunion was supposed to be done, and the same "experts" to whom I had listened for decades..




In the early days of my reunion, when I was gasping for air due to the pain of the loss coming back to flood me and overwhelm my senses with unresolved grief, their advice was helpful. The experts told me to let my son lead the way, let him determine the pace, and always, always, always let him be the child and me the adult, the loving parent. Sounds like an easy task for someone who has parented 5 other children to adulthood and knows what that means. Yeah, not so much….



For 20 years my son appeared and disappeared from my life. He would disappear for years at a time, and then, one day, out of the blue, as if he had never pulled back, he would call. We would talk for hours, days and he would tell me how much he loves me, how much he missed being my child, how desperate he was for contact and, over the next few days or weeks, our conversations would gradually ramp up in intensity. Then, they would stop cold. No phone calls, no text messages, no letters, no contact of any kind. I would call and leave a message, and another. Then I would drop a card in the mail, telling him how that I was thinking about him. I would sign it “Love, Me”, never Mom, even though that is what he called me from the outset.



Another year, or two would pass, I would converse with his ex wife, and the mother of his children, or his ex-girlfriend, another adoptee who I like very much and am helping with her own reunion, a very difficult and painful thing for her. I would see the children on Facebook since they are both my “friends” and I could leave little comments on what they are doing and stay informed about them that non-threatening way.



However, a year ago, something changed. A year and a little bit ago, my granddaughter, the granddaughter who was 3 days old when my son and I reunited initially, gave birth to her own first son. I was a great grandmother. I had never met my granddaughter in person, nor my grandsons, and suddenly another generation was started and I wouldn’t know that one from the outset either. I couldn’t let another generation be lost entirely to my family, to my children, all of my children. I had to do what I had to do.



I contacted the mother of my grandchildren and my son’s ex-girlfriend, and told them that I was coming by train, that I would arrive on the weekend and that I would love to see them, meet them and put a face to their names, not a picture, but their loving, living faces. They both agreed and sounded excited. A few weeks before I was to leave, I even spoke to my grandson for the first time. He asked if it was okay to call me Grandma. Was it okay for this precious child, this son of my son, to call me Grandma? Oh, HELL yeah it was okay! It was so far beyond okay that it wasn’t even on the charts any longer!



The night I arrived, Palm Sunday, my ex-daughter in law, her son, my grandson, and my son’s ex-girlfriend came to the hotel to see me. My grandson, a lively little guy who looked so much like his grandfather, my boyfriend, that seeing him the first time took the breath from my lungs, was delighted to find out that the hotel had a pool and my friend would go there with him to swim. He went to the pool, took a shower in our shower, then switched to a bath, then back to the pool, and only stopped to eat the pizza that we had delivered. They stayed for a long time and we had a good conversation. It was WONDERFUL! I know them now. I know what they look like, what they sound like, what their faces look like when they talk. I saw their laughter, their sadness, their empathy and their own pain over things in their lives. I am so very thankful and grateful to them for being so warm, welcoming and open to meeting and sharing time and space with me. I will never, ever forget their kindness. I also met my grandson, who asked, as they were preparing to leave, if it would be okay if he spent the night with Grandma! I wanted to hug myself to death!



The next morning, earlyish, my granddaughter came with her son, my great grandson. She was more guarded and more cautious than my grandson, but she brought my great grandson who is beyond adorable and into the realm of divine! His mother, my granddaughter is gorgeous, as well as caring, patient and loving toward her son. She is, in every way, a very good Mommy and a very good person. Over time, I am sure, our relationship will evolve and grow. I look forward to it. I really like her! It is nice to know that the child of your child is someone you can not only love but like as well, and she is a very likeable young woman.



About an hour after she arrived, there was a knock on the door of the hotel room. It was my son. I had hoped, prayed even that he would be there, but since we have been in a pullback for over a year, it was no telling one way or the other. He wasn’t the major reason that I came, nor the major object of my trip, but in the end, he was the one that I really wanted to spend time with. I did. I spent the entire day with him. I talked to him, I sat with him, I got pictures of him and with him. Over the course of the 3 ½ weeks that I was there, I got pictures of him with my siblings, alone, with his girlfriend and their son, my other adorable and precious grandson, and with my friend, with me, without me, sitting, standing, eating, and doing nothing. I held him. I cried with him. I told him face to face that I loved him. I spent hours in his company. I completely and totally immersed myself in him. It was BLISS!



And, talk…did we talk!!! We discussed his father, my activism, his life and his home and school, his job, his children, his relationships, his siblings, my other children, his childhood, and his youth. And, we talked about his future. I wanted more and more and so did he. It was magical. I kept having to pinch myself to prove that it wasn’t a dream.



Time will tell the outcome and the result of the trip I made, but something is changed in our relationship. I should have done this years ago. I made the trip, but he never quite could make the few miles to come see me. This time, my choice was that I would go to his home or his favorite neighborhood tavern, or he would come see me or I was washing my hands of that generation. I was focusing on the next generation so that they would have the benefit of my family, and another grandmother. No child can have too much love, I don’t think. They are loved from me.



Our relationship is just beginning. I see it continuing forever, since I will be going back with more frequency in the future. I know them now and I know what I face. I also know that I am welcome there. I am grateful. I am happy. Maybe, just maybe we are finally getting things right. I hope so.



More on this later…..