I will never.....

I was struck with such deep sorrow, such extreme sadness at the learning of the death of my Mother Dorothy 32 years ago.  Dorothy, a woman who I never met, a woman who I knew nothing about.  I didn’t know what she looked liked, what she liked.  What made her happy?  What made her sad?  What brought her joy?  What stole her joy?  Yet I knew one thing, I would never get to meet her.  I was grieving her.  I am grieving her.  I feel great compassion for her.  I feel great gratitude for her.  I am so thankful for her decision to give birth to me and thankful she did not choose abortion.  I am proud of her.  I love her! Yet I am mourning the loss of a reunion that would never happen and connection what would never be made.  I will never look into her eyes.  I will never hear her voice.  I will never hold her hand.  I will never hug her.  I will never kiss her. I will never smell her scent.  Dorothy’s death would be my greatest loss, my darkest hole, my own personal demon.  Dorothy struggled in her lifetime with her sense of loss for me, her grief for me and now I am feeling the same feelings of loss for her.  She lost a child, a union, part of herself.  She never knew what became of me.  She never knew if I was happy.  She never knew if I was treated well.  She never knew if I was even alive.  She didn’t even know if I knew I was adopted.  NOT knowing is agonizing. 

Didn't see that one coming...

Dorothy was 39 years of age when she gave birth to me in 1962.  For me the search was simple, I keyed in her full name into a Google search and I quickly saw through the Social Security Death Index that Dorothy was deceased.  I had finally made up my mind to search; I had finally gotten the courage I needed to proceed in this journey.   The search ended in an instant.  Dead.  Dorothy died at the age of 58.   I did not see that one coming. Dorothy passed away in 1981.  In 1981 I was 19 years of age.  My Mom gave me my birth certificate when I was 21 years of age.  I never had a chance of ever finding Dorothy alive.  A friend suggested I look for siblings.  “Why?” I said.  “Why would Dorothy have other children?”  “If she didn’t want me why would she have other children?”  I assumed that being Dorothy gave birth to me at the age of 39 I must have been her first and last child…right? After all 39 and pregnant and unwed in 1962, there was no way I would have siblings…right?

As hard as I try I can’t remember what I was doing on September 29, 1981.  It was just another day for me.  I wonder now that if on that day maybe I felt something when Dorothy died.  Did I have a premonition that something I was not conscious of was happening? Maybe I had a twinge of pain or a sudden unexplainable sadness.  Maybe I had an uneasy feeling all day long, and having not known my Mother or knew she was dying I couldn’t figure out why I was feeling uneasy.  I have tried to figure out where I was on this day, I just can't remember that specific day in my life.  I would like to believe that on that day I felt something that I could not explain.