I dropped another letter into the mail for my grandparents on Monday. I have written them twice in the last 2 1/2 weeks...and the last letter before that was sent in December 2005. I didn't know it then, but my father had died three months prior. My grandparents have not responded to any of the three letters.
I realize that my recent letters are very recent and they may be composing their thoughts before responding, but it still begs the question... What do I do if they don't respond?
I have known for at least eleven years that my father had a son 12-15 years after I was born. I haven't seriously searched for him for many reasons - one of which is because I don't have one question answered for myself. Why do I want to seek out someone who is blood related, but I've never had a relationship with?
I can hardly articulate it, but I understand the thoughts that run through an adoptee's mind. Who did I come from? How are we similar? Why did my parent(s) leave me? Do I ever cross their mind? Do I matter to them? Would they like me if they knew me? Do I have siblings? If yes, do they know about me? Do they wonder about me? Do they know this same lonely feeling of being left? That last one chokes me up. It hits one of my nails on its head... Having also been abandoned by our father, his son is the one person on the planet that I know experienced the same thing I did. Our dad leaving. (Although I realize he may have emotionally experienced it much differently, and perhaps he isn't even aware.)
While I do not even know my father's son's full name, of the nearly 7 billion people on the earth, he's the one I don't know but think of specifically and consistently. He could be in one of my classes or standing beside me in line at the grocery store, and without the knowledge that it's him....he is no one significant. But if I were to know that he is my father's son...my brother...that somehow changes everything.
Like the day I met my father. He was just a guy in an airport. Very tall, thin, red headed, wearing a ball cap, waiting beside the elevator...but I knew that we were a piece of each other and that somehow made him familiar - not a stranger at all.
On one hand that seems illogical. This brother is someone I've never laid eyes on, but there is an instinctive care and concern...perhaps even love. This pull towards my stranger-brother....and practically-stranger-grandparents is so hard to wrap my brain around, yet completely understandable at the same time.
If I've learned nothing in the last 2 1/2 weeks, I've learned that time does not stand still...and it eventually runs out. My dad died while I was waiting. Are my grandparents even still living?
But...again...why do I want to seek out family members that I have never really known, and some who may not even know I exist? It is very possible that my brother has no idea about me.
I am really thinking aloud here. Writing helps me process, and having it here ensures that I will not forget this part of my journey. As if I could ever forget. There is such a strong pull towards locating and contacting my father's family members...but there is also fear and uncertainty.
If you are reading this and have a relevant experience you'd like to share, I'm all ears. I'm not looking for anyone to tell me what I should or should not do, but I would love to hear real stories that deal with the heart of what I'm going through. Remember? I'm a support group kind of gal.