The Story:
The day had finally arrived. It was early Saturday morning. I slowly slid out of bed and prepared to meet my biological aunt. The next twelve hours would be some of the most interesting, so far.
Prior to the meeting, I met my adoptive aunt and uncle, Nancy and Henry, at their home. Henry had insisted on accompanying me on the trip. I had not seen either of them in years. We greeted each other at their front door, hugs and handshakes, and then scurried inside from the cold. We stood in the kitchen awhile, and chatted about some paintings of Nancy’s. She’s a real ball-of-fire, and a real talker. My uncle began to get annoyed that she was speaking so much. So, he quickly ushered us out into the garage, and we all jumped in their mini-van.
Warrenton, Missouri was our destination. The 45-minute trip was very eye opening. Nancy and Henry told me some family stories that I had never heard. The first story was about the death of my adoptive mother, Georgia. She passed away when I was two-and-a-half, or so. Other than what I had seen in my childhood photos, I never knew much about her.
Nancy explained that Georgia and I were the only ones at home the moment she died. We were living in Virginia; right outside of Washington D.C. Apparently, while Georgia was taking care of me that day she suddenly suffered a massive brain aneurysm. She tried to make it into the kitchen where there was an emergency call button. Unfortunately, she did not get there in time. The kitchen floor was where Chris, my adoptive brother, found her.
When emergency crews arrived at the scene, I was sitting next to Georgia on the floor. There was ice cream everywhere, and it looked as if the house had been ransacked. According to Nancy, Georgia had made a habit of feeding me a little bit of ice cream whenever I had a cough. Her hope was that it would help to sooth my symptoms. Thinking that I could help make Georgia feel better, I tried to feed her lifeless body some of that same ice cream. Sadly, my infantile attempt at resurrection did not work. The messy state of the house had been my doing. Initially, the police thought that a burglary had taken place. There were items strewn all over the house. The odd part was that every open cabinet and disturbed object was near the floor. The Police finally determined that I had gone through the house and ransacked everything.
Nancy’s next story had to do specifically with the events surrounding my adoption. Come to find out, she and Henry were the ones who had originally planned on adopting me into the family. At the time, though, Nancy was diagnosed with cancer. Her doctor told her that there was no way that she could care for an infant while going through months of chemotherapy. Around the same time, her sister Georgia and my adoptive father, Art, were expecting a brand new baby. One day, while Georgia was driving her car, another motorist struck her. Consequently, they lost the baby. Since Nancy and Henry couldn’t adopt me anymore, I became the newest addition to Georgia and Art’s side of the family.
The Emotions:
Well, where should I begin? I had been excited to meet Maggie. Of course, I was quite anxious, as well. She and I were related by blood, but the fact that we had never met had really worked my nerves. Would we immediately recognize one another? Was she going to look like me only with long hair? I really hoped that wasn’t going to be the case. I would certainly have made a hideous looking woman! Luckily, I had always been a laid back person. I tended to roll with the punches. So, even though I was excitedly anxious that morning, there was an air of tranquility.
The two stories that Nancy told me were astonishing. I had assumed that all of my emotions for that day would be tied up with meeting Maggie for the first time. Obviously, I had been incorrect. I was in shock after hearing Nancy’s recollections. For starters, it tore me apart to know what took place the day that Georgia passed. Picturing myself as a toddler sitting next to her on the floor was tragic. It was insane that I thought I could have brought her back to life with a tub of Breyers, as if the ice cream were a magical elixir. Nancy’s story forced me to contemplate my past, again. I realized that Georgia had become another family member that I would be doomed to never know.
The second story was just as shocking. If Nancy had not been diagnosed with cancer then I would have been her adopted child. I would have had a completely different last name, and I would have had completely different adoptive siblings!
I was just dumbfounded to hear that news. I was so confused at that point. As if my past and my family dynamic hadn’t been complicated enough; now there was an entirely new level of complexity. It’s impossible to accurately describe how it felt to know that, once again, I could have had an entirely different life. The thought of calling Nancy and Henry Mom and Dad was utterly bizarre.
The Advice:
As an adoptee, I’m certain that I will come to know many more stories like these during my search. If you’re on the same journey as I then you can expect the same thing. My advice is to take it all in with the understanding that those stories make up your story. Some of them may turn out to be funny, or strange. Hell, some of them might be downright tragic. My point is that, good or bad, the jumble of memories we all call our pasts will eventually make better sense.
- Andrew
