Rebirth and Catharsis

December 1, 1993: The date of my rebirth. In a matter of a few short hours my whole life began to fall into place. I could hardly believe I had reached that point. It was utterly unbelievable. My long journey was nearing its end. An entirely new one was about to start. I couldn't wait to take the first step into this new facet of my life. The months of agony would at last be over. Nancy and I got ready to go and meet my uncle. The kids continued to take everything fairly well. I paced around the house like a caged animal.

As happy as I was, I also experienced a bout of last-minute apprehension. Doubts crept into my mind. Was this the right thing to do? Was this really what I wanted or would it become just another dead end? Would I really find the peace of mind I had been looking for all these years? Should I have left well enough alone and tried some other avenue to help myself?

Maybe I should forget the whole thing? My stomach was in knots and Nancy saw I was extremely preoccupied and nervous. "Mike, please settle down. You're making me nervous just watching you," Nancy said with one of her warm reassuring smiles that always made me feel better. "I'll try," I said, "I just don't know what I'm going to say. What do you think he looks like? Do you think he looks like me?" "Mike, why don't you just wait and see? It's almost time to go. You'll have your answer." "You're right as usual," I said. "I'll try to calm down." All day I had tried to imagine a face that would go with the voice I had heard on the phone. Was he blonde and blue-eyed like my mother? Finally it was six-fifteen. Time to go. My questions and my wondering would soon be resolved. We said good-bye to the kids and got into the car. My heart was still pounding at full throttle as I backed out of the driveway. "What if he doesn't like me Nancy?" I said. "Will you stop worrying," said Nancy, "He said he's waited forty years to see you. I don't think he will be expecting perfection after all those years." I laughed. "Well, he's going to find me far from perfect, as you can certainly attest to."

Nancy was unquestionably being great about all this. We turned onto the street and drove past my uncle's house. I still couldn't fully absorb the fact that he had lived only a few miles from me for several years. How crazy this whole thing was! I wondered if I had seen him before in a grocery store, a bank, church or just driving by in town. I still had no clue as to what he was going to look like. These were the longest minutes of my life. The house was a large colonial style with a large, well-kept yard. The house was located in a very nice residential area of town and was much larger than ours, which Nancy quickly pointed out. I thought there might be a swimming pool in the back yard because of the fence that enclosed the perimeter. "Nancy, what time is it?" I asked. "I can't see my watch." "It's six-twenty-five." "I think we should drive around the block one more time," I said. I had waited forty years for this I supposed five more minutes wouldn't make any difference. I drove around the block.

My anxiety was showing by now and I had never so scared and happy at the same time in my life. I didn't know how I was going to react and I certainly didn't want to pass out. You don't get any training for that type of thing. For a moment I thought maybe it would have been better if I had met him at the agency. That way, Susan could have introduced us. Maybe then I would not have been so nervous. Too late now.

I pulled the car into the driveway. I was about to meet the first blood relative I had ever known. This man had known my mother, lived with her, talked to her, touched her and loved her. I wish I could have had that experience. We got out of the car and went up to the front door. I rang the doorbell. My hand was shaking so badly, I almost couldn't do it. I was terrified that my legs were going to give out from underneath me. I would have hated to have my uncle open the door only to find me flat on my face on his front porch. That would not be a very auspicious way to begin a relationship. Nancy held my arm, tightly squeezing my biceps. She was as nervous as I was, yet she was trying not to show it as much. How glad I was that she was there sharing this with me. I took a long, deep breath as the door opened. Is this all a dream?

I thought, Pinch me and I'll wake up to find myself back in my pine-paneled childhood bedroom. The door opened. I was faced with a man who looked to be in his late fifties. He was shorter than I had imagined judging from the sound of his voice. He was about five feet, eight inches tall and wore glasses. He had short brown hair, similar in color to my own. I didn't remember having ever seen him before. I reached out my hand to shake his and he did the same. We ended up hugging each other. As I stood there hugging him, my new-found uncle said three simple words to me: "Welcome home, David." "Welcome home, David!" These are the three most wonderful words I have ever had anyone say to me. It's funny, they are the same number of words as "I love you." I could not have had a better greeting. Overwhelmed, I started to cry. I was home. This was my Kansas, my somewhere over the rainbow. Like Dorothy trying to return from Oz, home turned out to be right in my own backyard. This is what life is really about. I felt instantly accepted. I was no longer nervous. I felt a strange sense of calm. Despite of the powerful emotional impact of this event, I felt a strange sense of peace. I was fast becoming connected with my past. I introduced Nancy to my uncle. She hugged my Uncle Jim and started to cry. There was a woman standing with my uncle. He introduced me to her as Mary. Uncle Jim's wife had died three years previously. Mary was his companion. She was very nice. She gave me a big hug and I hugged her back. She invited us to come into the living room and sit down. The living room was very spacious. There was a fire going in the fireplace. I watched the flames flickering and the smoke curling up the chimney flue. I thought about how much this scene meant to me. The well-furnished house was tastefully decorated. I could tell that my uncle was a man with a good sense of proportion and taste.

Nancy and I sat on the couch. My uncle sat on a love seat across from us. I could tell that he was as emotionally stirred by this as I was. I studied his face trying to determine if he looked like me at all. I saw a little resemblance. None of us said anything for a few minutes. I had tears in my eyes, which I didn't attempt to hide. This wasn't the time or the place to disguise my emotions. My uncle was looking for the right way to start. In a situation like that, there is no such thing as a right or wrong way. I was just happy to be there and he knew it. "Mike, I guess I should tell you something about the history of the family," he said. "I guess that would be a good place to start," I agreed. I certainly wanted to know as much as I could about the family history.

Whatever my uncle was about to relate was to be the first step towards my having an idea of where I came from. It was what I had been craving for so long. My uncle began to tell me about his family. He started by giving me an overview of our ethnic background and my grandparents. I admit I couldn't remember everything he was telling me. I was thinking about my mother. I wanted to know about her. I wanted to see a picture of her. I didn't mention it just yet, though. I let him continue. He gave me some background on his family. "We moved here in May of 1978." "Wow, that's just five months after Nancy and I moved here!" I said. "Prior to that we lived in Long Warf." Long Warf was the town just to the west. We had been in close proximity for many years. "The family, including your mother, originally lived on the other side of the state," he continued. "In fact, we lived in the town bordering the one where you were raised."

There were a lot of coincidences in all this. There were to be more and even stranger ones to come. My uncle continued. "My wife suffered for several years with cancer. She died three years ago. I have three children, your new cousins. Two girls and a boy. The youngest, Susan, is upstairs. She is twenty-four and is getting ready to move into a new apartment tomorrow. My son Brian lives about twenty miles away and is married with no children. My oldest daughter Sharon lives a few miles from here and is married. She has a five-month old little boy. She'll be coming over later." My uncle explained his children had not known anything about me until the previous night. He called them as soon as he heard from Sharon. They had all been very excited about meeting me, as I was about meeting them. They were my blood cousins. I was now, by default, the oldest cousin. "You have an Aunt Barbara and an Uncle Ed who live on the other side of the state," he told me. "You have another uncle named Benjamin, who lives in Pennsylvania." I also had several other cousins. I couldn't keep track of all the names as my uncle rattled them off. I also learned my mother's name. It is Eunice.

Funny, most people know their mother's first name. I had to wait forty years to find it out. During a pause in my uncle's story, I took the opportunity to look around the room for any pictures of someone who might be my mother. There were none that I could see. I would have to wait for my uncle to take the lead. "Mike, would you like to hear about your mother?" he asked, as if reading my mind. "Yes, I would like that very much," I said. Mary, who was busy bringing in cheese and crackers, said to Uncle Jim, "Why don't you show him the picture?" "Mike," Uncle Jim said, "there's a picture of your mother hanging on the wall upstairs in the family room. It's her high school graduation picture. It's one of the few pictures I still have of her. Do you want to go up and see it?" "Yes," I told him, "I want that very much. I have waited so long for this."

All my fantasies about what my mother would look like were about to be transformed into reality. There would no longer be any question in my mind. I would finally know if I looked like her. The next and most important step to finding my identity began with the walk up those stairs. My heart was beating wildly. My insides were churning. I had waited forty long years to see my mother's face. "Go up the stairs and take a left," Uncle Jim directed. "The picture is on the back wall to your left as you enter the room. As I said, it's her high school graduation picture and she was about eighteen years old when it was taken. The color picture is your mother. The black and white one is your Aunt Barbara." "Mike, I want to go with you," Nancy said. "Sure, Nancy. I want you to be with me."

I needed to share this most important moment in my life with the woman who had stayed with me through all the volcanic turmoil leading up to it. She had never let me down as I had let her down so many times. I promised myself I would never hurt her again. Walking up the stairs, my legs got weak. I didn't know what I was going to find. I wanted so badly to see my mother's face, yet I was terribly scared. I walked as if in a dream. Forty years of waiting were about to end. The search for the woman who had brought me into this world was about to reach its conclusion. I was about to look at the face of the mother I had never known. The mother who I had thought about for so long and who I loved. Apprehension, sadness and joy filled my soul simultaneously as I entered the room. I saw the picture hanging on the wall from across the room and slowly approached it. I was almost afraid to open my eyes fully. I was crying. I couldn't help it.

Finally, I looked at my mother's face. She was absolutely beautiful. I heard Nancy say, "My God. She looks like a movie star!" I was looking at the face of my mother for the first time in my life. This was the woman who had brought me into this world on that winter's day forty years ago. She had carried me inside of her for nine months. I was a part of her for that time and then she was gone. "Mom. I love you Mom." I said those words over and over to myself. I was not aware of Nancy or anyone or anything else. It was just me and my mother. "I love you so much Mom. I am sorry I was too late to help you."

I reached out and gently touched the picture. I ran my hand slowly and carefully down the side of her cheek, as if I was really touching her. I stood there crying and I knew I never wanted to leave. Nothing else mattered in the whole world except being where I was right then. No matter what else may come out of all this, what I was experiencing right then was worth it. I wanted so badly to hold her. I really need you Mom. I miss you. I repeated these things again and again inside my head. Tears flowed down my cheeks in cascades. I didn't care. At this same moment something else occurred to me. Looking at how beautiful my mother was, for the first time in my life I felt that I was not unattractive. A million people could have told me that, but only seeing the face of my mother caused my to accept it as a possibility. This great change happened in a matter of seconds. My entire outlook on life was rearranged. I was reborn as I stood there. This woman, whom I had never known, yet whom I had always known, gave me back life, as she had given it to me forty years before. I love her.

I touched the picture again. I looked into her eyes. Dear God, how conscious I was of my feelings! I was happy and I was truly home. We finally went back downstairs. I sat close to Nancy. "My mother was absolutely beautiful, Jim," I said as I tried to wipe the tears from my eyes. "Yes, she was," he agreed. "She looks like a model," I said. "How tall was she?" "Only about five-foot-two," he answered.

I was trying hard to process all that was happening because everything had exploded so fast. I don't know if I can describe the multitude of thoughts and emotions coursing through my body, colliding with each other like sub-atomic particles in a nuclear chain reaction. My uncle went on to explain some more of the family history and where in Czechoslovakia each side of my mother's family had come from. There I was, after forty years, listening to the story of my roots. My cousin Suzie finally came downstairs. She had been getting dressed when Nancy and I had first arrived and when I saw her I knew she looked familiar. She had seen Nancy and me before as well. She said, "You both look so familiar. Do you go to the Deli restaurant?" "Yes," I said. "It's one of our favorite restaurants." "I used to be a waitress there," she said. "I know I've seen both of you in the restaurant before. I'm sure of it." "I know," I agreed. "You look familiar too. I think you waited on us. Was I a good tipper?" "I can't remember," she said, being very diplomatic.

I immediately liked Susan, who was about five feet two with blonde hair. She had a very bubbly, outgoing personality and was very easy to relate to. I saw some of my own youthful spirit in her as she spoke. This was the first of my cousins I was to meet, and I thought if they were all like Susan, I would have it made. I was so happy and I felt right at home. Uncle Jim told me more about my mother. "Your mother visited this house several times before she died," he said. "You were within two miles of your mother on several occasions." Within two miles of my mother! Two physical miles, yet separated by over twenty years of time.

This was incredible. It was also very sad, and I started crying again. To have been so close and to have missed her. I wish I had looked earlier. "Your mother was a very loving and giving person," he continued. "She was very independent and spoke her mind. She never really wanted to give you up. I know for a fact that she agonized for months over the decision." I was so happy to learn that my mother had not wanted to give me up! She had loved me after all. This was the greatest news I could have received. "Your father wanted very badly to marry your mother. I know that because I knew your father very well," Uncle Jim explained. That factor raised a whole new set of possibilities. I wondered if my father was still alive and if my uncle had seen him recently. I didn't ask about him yet, though. "Your mother was not sure about getting married," Uncle Jim continued. "She wanted more than a house with a white picket fence. She had an adventurous spirit and wanted to see the world. Your father was more of a family-oriented man. He was very caring and sensitive."

I tried to process everything my uncle was telling me. He was revealing so many things I wasn't sure I was getting it all. I was so relaxed and comfortable in his home. I felt on top of the world as forty years of doubts and questions were being answered. The doorbell rang. It was my cousin Sharon, her husband Andy and their five month old son Kevin. My uncle made the introductions. Sharon was as friendly and outgoing as Suzie and I immediately liked her as well. Her husband was also very friendly and it was easy to establish a rapport with him, too. "I didn't even know Aunt Eunice had had any children until my father told me last night after the phone call he got from the agency. I guess you're the oldest cousin," Sharon said with a warm and friendly laugh. "Well, that's a dubious honor," I said, "but I'm so happy I gladly accept it." "Aunt Eunice, your mother, taught me and Suzie how to make latch hook rugs," Sharon told me. "Mike, the rug you stepped on in the entry way is one your mother made," Uncle Jim said. The way he said it, I thought he was going to run over and throw the rug into my lap. "It was the only thing I had of your mother's, but now I have you. When I had my heart attack several years ago, I told myself that I wasn't ready to go yet. There was some unfinished business I had to attend to. I think you were it. I never stopped wondering about you. None of us did. I always pondered where you might be. You were a missing piece of our lives. Now the piece of the puzzle is in place."

My uncle's voice was choked with emotion as he said all this. I was so touched I began crying all over again. I was not embarrassed here. "Jim, why don't you give him the rug," Mary suggested to my uncle. He went over and picked up the rug and presented it to me. I was holding something that my mother had made. I actually had a tangible piece of her in my hands. I can't describe in words what I felt. Mary asked if we wanted a drink. At first my uncle offered us some wine, but then he changed his mind. "No, this calls for champagne!" Mary brought in a chocolate cake while my uncle poured glasses of champagne for all of us except the baby, of course. Mary explained that the cake was a special cake her family made only for birthdays. "This is like a new birthday for you, isn't it Mike?" my uncle asked. "Yes, it sure is, Uncle Jim. It's the best birthday of my life." After we had the cake and champagne, my uncle told me he would have the picture of my mother reproduced. He would try to get it done by Christmas. That would be the best Christmas present I could ever get. "Uncle Jim," I said, "if you placed a million dollars right here and the picture of my mother next to it, I would choose the picture."

This story was becoming stranger and stranger. My birth parents had been introduced in the same church in which Nancy and I had been married. Unbelievable! I was exhausted from the emotional merry-go-round I had been on all night. I wanted to stay, but I knew I had to leave soon. My uncle went on to further describe the relationship between my mother and father. This information was so vitally important to me. "Your mother and father saw each other for about two years," he said. "The relationship was very open and both families knew each other. Your father loved Eunice very much. Her feelings toward him were much more ambiguous. When Eunice became pregnant, your father was very upset. He wanted to do what he felt was right and marry her and keep the baby. He also wanted to marry her because he loved her very much."

One of the most unusual things about the story was that my mother's family had accepted the pregnancy better than I thought they would have, considering the morals of the day. My grandparents didn't throw my mother out of the house. Uncle Jim explained that they handled the whole situation very well and gave my mother support and understanding. My father's family apparently knew nothing about the pregnancy and they would often ask Jim what had happened between my father and mother. My father helped my mother with money during the pregnancy. My mother went to the Catholic Home for Unwed Mothers about three months before I was born. My uncle visited her there and brought my grandparents there to see her. He was not sure if my grandfather went after I was born, but he was positive that my grandmother had. Uncle Jim also told me, "I went into the Army three weeks after you were born. I was gone for over a year and didn't keep up with all the news. I'm not sure exactly when you were adopted. I knew your mother suffered a lot in trying to decide what to do about you. I'm positive that she didn't want to give you up. It was a hard decision for her to make. Aunt Barbara can give you much more information on what occurred during the time I was away. After your mother started working for the airline, she wasn't around very much. She lived in California and other parts of the country and around the world. There were periods of years when I wouldn't hear from her much. She was married in 1968. She married another airline employee who was a fast riser in the organization. He was Asian. They never had any children. In 1978 they moved back to Maine. The marriage was not very good. Your mother was depressed a lot and drank quite a bit. She would call me at all hours of the night. I am the one who is considered the most steady member of the family. I handle all the problems."

Apparently, he and my mother were very close. I wanted to know about the circumstances of my mother's death. I could see it was obviously something very painful for my uncle to discuss. He gave me some of the background and I cried as he told me the story. Why Mom? Why did you do this to yourself? Why were you so unhappy? Why couldn't you wait for me? Did you think that I could or would forget about you? Didn't you ever think I would try to find you? I love you Mom. I miss you. I really needed to have you here. I need you to tell me that I'm okay. I need you to tell me that you love me. Why Mom? Why have you left me again?

All these childhood thoughts--David's pain-- went through my head as my uncle described the circumstances of her death. "Would you like to se where your mother is buried?" asked Uncle Jim. "Yes," I told him. "I want very much to visit her grave. I have to do that. I want to bring something to the grave. A flower box or something like that." "How about going tomorrow?" he asked. "Say about ten-thirty in the morning?" "That's fine with me," I told him. "I'll take the day off." "Okay, why don't you meet me here at ten-thirty. Your Aunt Barbara doesn't live far from the cemetery. I'll call her and your Uncle Ed tonight. Ed and his wife are staying with Barbara until he can find a new job. He was laid off from the insurance company a few months ago and has been looking for work ever since." "Things are tough in the job market these days," I reflected. " "You can probably meet both your aunt and uncle at the same time," Uncle Jim said. "Great," I said. "I can't wait until tomorrow." Nancy was upset because she also wanted to come, but she had too many obligations that she couldn't cancel. I wanted very much for her to be there. It was getting late, and we needed to get home. We had left David in charge of watching Julie, but that didn't always work out. "Uncle Jim," I said, "I'm sorry we have to leave. This has been an unforgettable night for me. I can't express all the emotions I feel or how happy I am that all this has happened. Before we go, may I go upstairs alone and look at my mother's picture again?" "Sure, take your time," my uncle told me in a quiet, somewhat reverent tone. I went upstairs. This time I was crying before I even got into the room.

Alone, I fell down on my knees and cried. When I finally regained the strength to stand, I looked long and hard at the picture. "I love you Mom. God knows I love you and I miss you so terribly. I wish I knew you. I wanted so much to hold you. I'll be back Momma." "Someday I'll be with you Mom, I know it."

I wiped my eyes and tried to regain my composure as I gently kissed the picture and walked away. Despite my tears I was really happy. I was happier than I had been in years, perhaps in my entire life. As soon as Nancy and I got in the car, she said "I'm sure I know what family your father is from. Your uncle knows I know. I saw the way he looked at me when he was talking about where your father was from." Nancy told me the last name of the family she was thinking of. It was the same one I had in mind. "I'm going to call my father in the morning and ask him," Nancy continued. "I'm sure he'll agree." "Go ahead and do it Nancy," I told her. "I would like to hear your father's opinion." When we got home, David was still up. "So, Dad, how did it go?" he asked. "It went great, Dave," I told him. "You will like your 'new' family. We can talk about it in the morning." Julie was already asleep. I tried to sleep but it was no use. I was up most of the night going over everything in my mind. I was up at four-thirty, my usual wake-up time, and tried to follow my normal morning routine. I picked up my morning coffee on the way to work, and when I got there I worked out. I took a shower and drove to my uncle's house. I was apprehensive about how I would handle going to my mother's grave.

I decided to just be myself. I would feel whatever I felt and not be afraid to display it. After all, wasn't that a big part of the reason for this whole search, to find myself and be myself? I pulled the car into my uncle's driveway and saw him standing by his car. I parked next to his and got out. "Hello Mike." His voice was hearty and touched with a bit of joviality. "Good morning." "How did you sleep last night?" he asked. "Not very well," I said, "I was too overwhelmed by all that happened last night." "So was I," he said, "Ready to go?" "Sure."

My uncle volunteered to drive, and Mary joined us and sat in the back seat. It was funny how at ease I felt with my uncle. I was not uncomfortable or nervous in the least. I didn't get a chance to stop at a store to pick up a flower box to put on my mother's grave. There had been no time. I felt badly about this, but I knew I would go back again once I knew where she was. The drive to the cemetery took about an hour and as we traveled, my uncle explained more about where he grew up. He was going to take me to see the spot where the house he and my mother spent their childhood used to stand.

Then he asked, "What made you decide to look for your mother at this particular time in your life?" The question caught me off guard. I thought for a moment about what to tell him. I told my uncle and Mary some of the background of my growing up and about my feelings of being disconnected. I explained some of the emotional problems I suffered, but I didn't go into great detail about my adopted parents and my life with them. It was too soon. I only told them that I hadn't had the most wonderful and loving childhood. "Uncle Jim, do you know how long I spent with my mother before I was adopted?" I asked. "I'm not certain," he said, "but it seemed to me that she was in the agency for several weeks." I asked him, "Do you think it was possible that I saw her face at any time during those weeks?" "It's certainly likely," he said. "Your mother didn't want to give you up that easily. I would say that you probably did see her face."

We drove to the town where my uncle had grown up. The place where the house used to be was along a country road in the town next to where I was raised. There was more irony in all this. I had driven along those same country roads when I first got my license. I told my uncle I had been in this area many times before as I took girls parking along some of the same roads we were driving along. I was always trying to stay one step ahead of the cops. This was really bizarre. My uncle pointed out the lot where the house had stood. It had been torn down many years before, yet the remnants of a driveway could still be seen, mostly overgrown with brush. We left the town and continued toward the cemetery. I got more and more nervous the closer we got to our destination. A lot of thoughts whirled inside my head because I still couldn't comprehend this whole thing. The speed with which everything was happening made it hard to grasp. I couldn't evaluate all the information fast enough to make judgments on what I felt. I supposed the way to handle the situation was to be rational about it, but this was one of those experiences in life when feeling is more important than thinking. I decided to just let go and let my emotions guide me. I would act the way my feelings dictated without trying to analyze it all. I told myself to just feel what comes natural in response to whatever the stimulus is and to trust myself. I wanted to enjoy the opportunity to experience the feelings. I saw the entrance to the cemetery coming up on the right side of the road and my stomach tightened as my uncle turned the car into the entrance. I felt the emotions bubble up inside of me and I knew I would not be able to hold myself back. I really didn't want to. This was not going to be easy, but I had to face it. My uncle slowed down, trying to find the spot where my mother was buried. He said it had been a while since he had been there. "There isn't any headstone," he explained. "Just a marker, so bear with me. I have to find a landmark."

He looked around trying to locate a reference point. It was a very large cemetery and I could see that my mother had a lot of company. She would never be alone. The car stopped and I realized my uncle had found the spot. I sensed a sudden weakness surging through my body. I didn't know if I could go through with this. I absolutely had to. I opened the car door and stepped out. The air was cold and very damp. It was that kind of dampness that hangs in the air in late autumn or early winter in New England which can make your head stuffy. When you feel that dampness, you can usually tell that it is going to rain or snow soon. The sky was cloudy and the forecast predicted rain. Nature was on target. Was I?

My uncle led the way as we walked along a row of markers. It was the longest walk I have ever taken in my life. I remember a movie where a man was being led to the electric chair and remarked about the length of the walk though it was only a short distance. I know what he meant. This was the end point of a journey that started so long ago, when I first saw those official papers in the forbidden closet. This was where those papers had led me. I had to finish the final leg of the journey despite the awful pain that now pointedly made itself known in my heart. I inched closer to the endpoint of all that I had gone through. There was no thought of turning back now. Uncle Jim stopped and pointed out the graves of his mother and father, my grandparents. We walked on. By this time I was shaking and my legs had become like jelly. I could feel the tears building inside of me. "This is your mother's grave." My uncle's voice was low and solemn.

I looked down at the grave marker and saw my mother's name etched coldly in the stone. I started sobbing. My uncle and Mary moved a distance away, leaving me alone at the graveside. I fell down on one knee. I could no longer stand up, and I began crying like I had when I had seen my mother's face for the first time the night before. Perhaps no one can comprehend the powerful emotions which surged through me like a raging white water river. Another adoptee who has experienced what I have may know the feeling. I came face to face with reality, but also with the beginning of a new chapter in my life. Where it would lead I was unsure, but I was as close as I had ever been to the starting point. I was grateful for having that much and I continued to cry. Then I became angry inside and I contemplated ripping the stone out of the ground and clawing my way through the dirt and climbing down into the hole. I wanted to rip the casket open and hold my mother because I wanted to be with her so badly. I cried aloud. "Mom, it's David. I finally found you and I'm sorry it had to be this way. I wish I had looked for you sooner. At least I know where you are and I promise I will come and visit you as often as I can. I love you Mom. Someday I will be with you and I promise I will never forget you. Good-bye Mom. I love you."

The tears continued to stream like a waterfall down the sides of my face and I shook as if I had a bad case of the flu. My entire body was numb as I knelt there at my mother's grave and I faced the hard truth that she was dead. I would never have the chance to hold her. This cold stone was hard reality and there was no way around it. I was looking the facts of life straight in the face and I had to grow up. I had no choice now. I would never get the hug I needed so badly. The hug and feeling the closeness of my mother were things that would never be. I had traveled a long way and gone through a lot to get here and perhaps this was all part of the plan. I would not dwell on it. I love my mom, as I know she loved me, even if we were unable to be physically connected. Our spirits are connected and I know I will see her someday.

Standing there, at the end of my quest, I felt strange sensations inside of me. Something was leaving me and I felt its presence evaporating out of my body almost as if my very soul were leaving me. I felt a strange calmness and peace settling over me. The obsession that had been such a core of my personality was dissipating and I began to see now what all those years of reading philosophy and astronomy were about. The chasing about for answers to questions that only led to more questions now made sense to me. This had been the goal of that search and that energy-absorbing effort to seek out what I did not know. I felt a strange sense of peace here at this place of death. It was now a place of rebirth as well. My mother was helping me find peace of mind, as she had the night before when I looked at her face. The anger was leaving me. I became whole and grew up at the same time.

I stood up and Mary and Uncle Jim joined me at the grave. Uncle Jim cleared some of the grass away from the stone. He was very meticulous as he was doing this and I perceived a great deal of feeling in this simple task. He must have loved my mother very much. "I'll come back again as soon and bring some flowers," I said. "Now that I know where my mother is I can visit her as often as possible." At least I knew where she was now. This was much more than I had know just a bare twenty four hours ago. As we walked back to the car in silence, I was still sobbing a bit. I had so much to process and understand in such a short time. Mary gave me some tissues as we drove away. I wanted to go back. I wanted to spend more time with my mother. I knew I would come back again very soon.

The drive to Aunt Barbara's house only took about fifteen minutes, and again I recognized a route I had traveled many times as a teenager and young adult. We made a left turn off the main highway. I had been on this road before as well. This was all so familiar and yet so strange. I couldn't believe all that had happened in just a few short hours. My whole life had changed. Uncle Jim pulled into the driveway of Aunt Barbara's house. It was very well kept and from what my uncle had told me there was quite a bit of land that went with the house. I could see through the kitchen window the figures of people moving. Two more family members to meet. I was nervous and excited as I followed Mary and Jim into the breezeway of the house. I saw an older woman, about five feet tall walking toward me. She was crying and put her arms around me and gave me a hug. "Mike, I can't tell you how happy I am," she said. "I have waited so long for this day. I thought about you so often. I didn't know if you were alive or dead. My husband and I wanted to adopt you but they wouldn't let us. We always wondered where you were. We had no idea what had happened to you. I can't believe you were so close and you are finally back." She continued to hug me.

I had tears in my eyes. "This is a momentous day for me," I said. "I have waited forty years for all this to happen. I never believed it ever really would." Aunt Barbara finally let me go and we walked into the kitchen together. There was a gray-haired man standing by a desk along the back wall. It was my Uncle Elliot. As I walked into the kitchen, he came toward me and gave me a huge bear hug. "Mike, this is a great day for us," he said as he held on to me in that bear hug. "We all love you." "It's a great day for me too," I replied softly while in a desperate struggle not to cry again. It was a losing battle, so I gave up. Uncle Ed was taller than Uncle Jim and also more emotional. He was very outgoing with a bit of hyperactivity about him. I could see some of me in him. He must have been more like my mother than Uncle Jim. "Sit down Mike and have some soup," he said. "You must be hungry. I have some things I want to give you." I sat at the kitchen table and felt as if I had been there many times before.

The simple act of eating a bowl of soup at my aunt's house was a momentous occasion for me. How many other people had done that simple thing so many times and thought nothing of it? I was truly with my natural family. I had no reservations about being there with my people. It was great and there was no tension and no apprehension about what I was doing. "Mike, here are some pictures of your mother that I want you to keep," Aunt Barbara said as she handed me an envelope full of photographs. "Thank you," I replied, as I gingerly opened the envelope.

Inside was a black and white photograph of my mother in her stewardess uniform. She was sitting inside a plane and she was absolutely beautiful. The pose she was in resembled something you would normally see in a fashion magazine.

There were other pictures in the envelope. I carefully pulled them out. They were infant pictures of me! These were the first pictures I had ever seen of myself as an infant. I couldn't have been more than a few days old. More shocks were to come. Looking at my infant pictures, the inside of my head was reeling like a carousel out of control. I couldn't believe what I was looking at. In one of the pictures I was being held by a Catholic nun in the full nun's habit! Her face was encased in the head covering I had seen so many times in my dreams. This was incredible! Along with the pictures there was a letter in the envelope. It had been written by my mother a few months before she died and was addressed to her attorney. The letter was several pages long and it was a chronicle of her marriage and other parts of her life. It was very well-written. My mother was a strong-willed person. She had opinions, hopes and dreams. She should not have been made to feel less than she was.

Also in the envelope was another document. This was a notice addressed to my mother about my adoption. It was dated about six and a half months after I was born. I scanned the document with great interest because it stated that "David James has been adopted by a wonderful couple who are so happy to have him and will give him a loving environment." I found three things of particular importance in this document. The first was that my middle name was the same as Uncle Jim's. I showed him the document. He had never known that his sister had given me his name for my middle name. The second thing I learned was the exact date I was adopted. The third and final item was that the agency believed my adoptive parents had been very thrilled to have me. I thought briefly about how that may have been at the time. I wondered if I was wrong about the way I characterized them in my mind?

Aunt Barbara explained to me sadly that the envelope with the letters and the pictures were in my mother's house when she died. She found them in my mother's bedroom on a night stand next to the bed. "The pictures of you and the notice of your adoption were in the same envelope with the letter to the lawyer. I'm not sure what she had intended to do with them. The lawyer said he never received a copy of the letter so I don't know if she sent it or not. You can keep all those pictures and I have some other things I want to give you."

As I gazed again at the infant pictures of myself I thought about how my mother had held on to them for all those years. I wondered if her last thoughts had been about me. I will never know for sure. I find comfort in the fact that she must have at least been thinking of me sometime prior to her death. I felt a deep sadness coming over me as I looked at those pictures. I wished I had known her. I would still love her even though she was gone. I would never forget her. I had never wanted to leave her. "I can't thank you enough for all these treasures," I told my aunt. "You don't know how much they mean to me and how happy I am right now. I am happier than I have ever been in my life." "You have made us happy too," my Uncle Ed said with emotion in his voice. "There is someone you are going to have to meet. His name is Roy and he was a very close friend of your mother's. He flew with her around the world for almost twenty years. He will want very much to meet you. He can fill you in on so much of your mother's life that we can't. She was gone for so many months at a time. I'll call Roy tonight and tell him." "That would be great, Uncle Ed," I said. "I want very much to meet him. I hope we can do it soon." Aunt Barbara had left the kitchen for a few minutes. When she returned she was carrying a carved wooden cat and a small ring. She handed me both items. "This was one of your mother's favorite cat carvings," she explained. "Your mother loved cats. She always had cats. I want you to have this. I also want you to have this ring. It was your mother's and I believe she got it in Germany." I was so happy to have the ring. I later gave it to Nancy. My Mom would have wanted her to have it. She deserved it. She deserved far more than just a ring. "Thank you so much," I told Aunt Barbara. "I really don't have the words to express what I'm feeling right now. This is all so unbelievable. I can't digest all of this quickly enough. So much has happened in just a few short hours. I really wish I could thank you all properly." "Mike, there is no need to thank us. You have made us very happy. You are part of the family. You belong here. You are home. Enjoy it as we do."

I did feel as if I was finally home. Each passing minute confirmed the fact that it was not a dream. My search was truly over. I had found my Golden Fleece, the Holy Grail of my life-long struggle. I wanted to cry tears of happiness. I did. I was not afraid to feel in front of these people. They were mine. I belonged with them. My Aunt Barbara had two sons: Jack and Jamie. They were both married and lived near her. I was able to meet both of them on that day. I had two more cousins to add to my list. I was only able to speak to them for a few moments and I hoped to have an opportunity to see more of them.

Aunt Barbara was very articulate. Her husband had died several years before and she had lived alone for a while. Both her sons lived near her, which I suppose made the situation a bit easier. The whole family seemed very close and they obviously cared a lot about each other. I really wanted to be a part of their family. We stayed at Aunt Barbara's house for an hour more and there were so many things said I simply can't remember them all. I was anesthetized from all that had taken place. I was physically and emotionally exhausted and I wanted to go to sleep. It had been a wonderful day. "Aunt Barbara, I want to come back again soon," I told her. "I want to bring my whole family." "That's a great idea," she said, "I want to meet all of them." One of the most interesting things I learned from Aunt Barbara and Uncle Ed was the amount of time my mother spent at the Unwed Mothers' Home. According to them, it was several weeks. I also learned from their account that my mother's decision to give me up had been an agonizing one which she did not make easily, a fact I had learned from Uncle Jim already. Hearing it again confirmed it for me. "Mike, Eunice wasn't sure if giving you up was what she really wanted, but there was very little choice in those days. It was almost unheard of for a single mother to raise a child. Your grandparents would not have been able to do it either."

My aunt and uncle told me they were sure my mother had spent time with me while she was in the agency. I can't confirm this, but the pictures I have of me being held indicate my mother was in the room when they were taken. My uncle believed it was his father's camera they had used and he also remembered going to the agency to see my mother. I gave Aunt Barbara and Uncle Ed each a hug before I left. I was still tearful and in shock. Before I went, Uncle Ed said, "Mike, I'll call you when I make arrangements for you to meet Roy." "I'll be waiting anxiously, I told him.

I went out to the car with Uncle Jim and Mary and before I got in, I took a long look around at the scenery. It was very much a typical New England landscape - rustic and very homey. I liked the view from there. Driving back, I wasn't very talkative. I was lost in thought and needed sleep. The physical strain began to tell and I could barely keep my eyes open. My whole body got limp and I felt myself drifting off into sleep. It took about forty-five minutes to get home. "I feel so at ease with the whole family," I said, "I hope we maintain contact." "Mike, I assure you we will," my uncle said, "You mean as much to us as we do to you." "Jim, how did you tell Barbara and Ed about finding me?" "I called them as soon as you and Nancy left last night. I got both of them on the line at the same time and I simply said 'I have great news. David has come home.' They knew exactly what I meant." "Wow. That's awesome," I reflected, "This is incredible." After we pulled into my uncle's driveway I thanked him and Mary for everything. "Call me as soon as you hear anything from my father," I told my uncle. "I'm going to take the day off from work because I need time to recoup and process all of this."

When I got home I explained everything to Nancy and the kids and went to bed early. I fell asleep almost immediately. I slept very soundly. It was a peaceful sleep. I was accepted as part of the family from whom I had been separated for so long. I loved all of them. I put the picture of my mother that Aunt Barbara gave me in my office. I displayed it proudly. However, there was one nagging issue that put a damper on that happiness. I was not sure what I should do about my adoptive mother. I felt as if I should tell her, but I knew that would be a mistake.

On the following Tuesday, Uncle Ed called and spoke to Nancy. My mother's friend, Roy, wanted to meet both of us on Sunday. Ed and his wife, Jane, would meet us at a restaurant a few miles from Roy's house. In a strange coincidence, Roy lived in the same town I grew up in. His house was only couple of miles from where my mother lived. This was going to be eerie. I was excited about meeting Roy. I knew he would be able to shed more light on my mother and her life, but I was ill-prepared for everything he revealed. Nancy and I met Uncle Ed and Jane at the restaurant. I was nervous because I knew my mother went to this restaurant on occasion.

This was Sunday afternoon, so it was possible that she would show up for lunch or early dinner. That thought made me very nervous. We might have run into other people I knew or other members of my adoptive family as well. I was not comfortable and neither was Nancy. We decided that if we were to run into anyone, I would tell them that Ed and Jane were our friends. Uncle Ed told us a little about Roy while we ate a hurried lunch. He explained that Roy lived alone and might seem a little eccentric. "That doesn't matter to me," I told him. "I want to hear about my mother. I have seen all kinds of people in my career as a cop, and I can't believe Roy could be that different. I'm sure I'll get along fine with him." We left the restaurant and headed to Roy's house. It was truly weird to back on a street I had not been on in over twenty years. We parked in the driveway and Uncle Ed and Jane led us up to the house.

I could see the figure of a man standing in the picture window. I was not at all nervous about this meeting. We entered Roy's uniquely decorated house. He was standing in his living room. He was a very handsome older gentleman in his late sixties with white hair and an equally white full handle bar mustache. He reminded me of a movie actor from the 'thirties as he reached out his hand to shake mine. "It's a real pleasure to meet you, Mike," he said. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Roy," I reciprocated. "My uncle has told me a lot about you. This is my wife Nancy." "I'm very happy to meet you Nancy," he said. "Come and sit down in the kitchen. I can make some coffee, or would you care for a drink? I think a drink is called for. Red wine? No, how about some champagne? Yes, we must have champagne. This is a very special occasion."

Roy continued to answer his own questions as we walked into the kitchen. The walls of the house were covered with various artifacts. Many were military memorabilia and some were Egyptian in style. He must have collected them during his years of flying around the world. He brought out a bottle of Spanish champagne which, he later explained, he had acquired on one of his many trips to Spain. "I have been saving this for a special occasion and this is it," he announced. Roy was obviously very nervous and ran around trying to pour the champagne and make coffee at the same time. I liked him immediately. He seemed to be a very genuine and warm person. He was also dignified and carried himself with distinction. He was a man of sophistication. "Your uncle tells me you like military history," he said. "Yes, I do," I told him. "It's sort of a hobby of mine. I have a large library of military books." "What is your special area of interest?" he asked. "I'm most interested in World War II," I told him, "although I enjoy reading about all aspects of military history from the ancient to the present. I enjoy all history in general." "That's great," he said. "I'm a military history buff, myself. I see we have a lot in common. Your mother liked history too. She was a fascinating woman, your mother. I was in the Marines during World War II. I served in the artillery at Guadalcanal. I saw a lot of action." "Wow! That's great," I said. "I will have to talk to you about that in detail someday." "I have a lot of things here that belonged to your mother. When Ed called me, I tried to put some of them together for you. I have so much. You know, your mother and I were best friends. I was very close to her, probably closer than anyone, even her own family while she worked with me." "How long did you know her?" I asked. "I knew your mother for about twenty years," Roy explained. "She and I were part of a special unit that was assigned to transport troops to and from Vietnam. We were civilians working for the airline, but we were attached to several military posts as well. There were only a handful of us in this assignment. Your mother was one of two females. The troops loved her. We were in Vietnam from about 1967 until 1970. I estimate your mother was involved in meeting thousands of troops over that time period. She was a wonderful, warm and giving person. But she did have her share of problems. She was always looking for something. I'm sure it was you. I'm sure that's why she volunteered for the Vietnam assignment."

"Did you know about me before Ed called the other day?" I asked. "Yes," he said. "I have known about you since New Year's Eve of 1960. Your mother and I were alone for some reason. It may have been because we were between flights. It was in New York City if I remember correctly. Your mother told me about you. I had never seen your mother cry before. She was not one for crying. In fact, I don't recall seeing her cry again after that. Anyway, to finish the story, we were together in New York and as she spoke about you she wept bitterly. I have hardly ever see anyone weep and sob as much as she did as she talked about you. She never mentioned you again after that night and I never asked her about it again. I could see it was very painful and I felt the subject was best left buried unless she wanted to bring it up."

As Roy related this story to me, I choked up inside. I could see my mother crying. I felt very badly that my mother had been hurting and yet I was happy because she had not forgotten me. Obviously she had still cared very much about me even seven years after giving me up for adoption. I began to understand so many things. The picture of my mother as a person was becoming more and more complete. I had a personality to go with the face. She was someone I could love, and I had come to love her very much. Roy continued. "I have some pictures of your mother and some special items I want to get for you right now." He went into another room and returned with a plastic bag. He held some photographs in his other hand.

My head was reeling as he handed me the pictures. They showed my mother in a military uniform. Her hair was longer and her face thinner than in the other picture of her I had seen. In the picture, my mother was holding what appeared to be a flag with a number of military unit patches sewn onto it. She was holding it across her chest so as to fully display it. It was very impressive. "Your mother made that flag with her own hands," Roy explained. "She would get the patches from the troops and collect them. She made this flag with a lot of love and devotion. She would hang it up at the entrance of whatever building we were working out of. If we were on a plane she would hang it over the entrance to the cockpit or the galley so everyone could see or touch it. Your mother could do anything with a needle and thread. She was very creative." "This is absolutely wonderful," I said. "Thank you so much for the pictures, Roy. They are truly priceless to me." "Wait," he said. "I have more for you." With that, he reached into the plastic bag and pulled out the very flag from the picture. I was shocked. It was more than I had ever expected. "This was made with your mother's own hands," he said. "I want you to have it. It belongs to you."

As I touched that wonderful creation of my mother's I began to cry. I stroked the material gently, and I pictured her sitting in a chair putting this together with care and love. All of these people, my uncles, my aunt, my cousins, Roy and of course my mother were all people who knew how to care about others. I was among friends. These were wonderful human beings. They were not perfect, as I was not, but they were genuine. There were no false pretensions here. I was one of them. I loved them all with my whole heart and soul. I was not afraid to love. They had taken me at face value from forty years in the past. They asked nothing from me, and yet they gave me more than if I had won the lottery. Thank you dear God. Thank you Momma. Roy said, "Mike, let's go into the living room so we can talk alone for a minute. I have some other things to show you." Roy and I went into the living room. He took me over to the fireplace mantle, where there was a display of military unit pins in a wooden frame. "All of these belonged to your mother," he said. "They were given to her by individual soldiers. I have even more of them. She used to wear them on a sash like the one you see foreign ambassadors wear in old movies. It was so heavy it almost pulled her to the ground. I have that sash and all the rest of the pins. I'm going to leave all of this to you in my will. I know your mother would want you to have them." "I appreciate all of this," I told him. "I can't express how much this all means to me. No one could understand what I'm feeling right now."

I started crying again. I could see Roy almost starting to cry as well. "You know, Mike," he said, "she loved you a lot. Much of the heartache she had in her life was because she had to give you up. Like I said, she was always looking for something and I'm sure it was you. She was not always happy. I could sense there was something missing." "I love her too," I said. "I never stopped loving her for forty years. I knew I had to find her someday. I just wish I could have seen her alive. I really wanted so much to be with her and hold her and talk to her. I know from what you're saying and what my family has told me that we would have gotten along so well. She would have been a wonderful mother." "I'm so glad you don't have any animosity toward her," Roy said. "A lot of people in your situation would be bitter and full of hate because she gave you up."

"Roy, I can't hate her," I said. "I know she did what she thought was best for me at the time. I also understand now that her decision caused her a tremendous amount of pain and probably her life. I wish I had looked sooner. Maybe I could have helped her. She has certainly helped me. After forty years she has given me back my identity and my life. How could I hate her for that?" "You know, Mike, your mother would have been very proud of you," Roy said. "Here you are a macho police officer and at the same time you are crying over your mother. She would have understood that and she would have loved you for it." Roy was certainly a wonderful person. His words made me feel so good inside. Love is a good and powerful thing. I had buried it for so long. I had not truly experienced it through most of my life because I was afraid. I had had so many shallow relationships because of the fear.

"Mike, I'm so happy all this happened," he said. "I have suffered very much over your mother's death. At the funeral your Uncle Jim had to comfort me. I thought how strange it was that her brother had to comfort me. I cared so much for your mother and I was the one who found her dead. Did you know that?" "No," I said. "I hadn't been told about that." "It was me and your Aunt Barbara. It was the most horrible day of my life. I lost the best friend I ever had. I have had to hold so much of this inside for so long because I don't like talking about it to your family. I feel funny about it, as if I'm bothering them with it. It was very painful for them and I don't want them to say, 'Oh God, here goes Roy again talking about Eunice.'"

"Well, Roy, you can talk to me anytime you want to," I said. "You could never tell me too much about my mother." "There are not enough years left in my life to tell you everything I know about your mother," he said. "You know it's a very strange thing, but this is like something that was pre-ordained to happen. You mother and Aunt Barbara helped me get this house. Your mother was the one who talked me into coming to Maine when she did. I couldn't understand why I ended up in this town. Of all the towns in the state, why did your mother want me to look here? I was almost an hour away from where she was living. I didn't know anyone here and I wasn't as close to her as I could have been if I had bought a house near where she was living. It was only a month after I moved here that she died. I have stayed here all these years not really knowing why. It's almost as if she planned it this way." "This is another of so many coincidences in this story," I said. "I'm not very mystical, but I'm starting to get that way. I'm beginning to believe that all of this was planned somehow, too." "You know, Mike," Roy said, "a lot of people say I'm a fool for caring and I know I've been taken advantage of, but I say 'who gives a shit?' I would rather be a giver than a taker anytime. You mother was certainly a giver. That was her style. She had a lot of class." This had been a truly inspiring and rewarding day. I told Roy that I would like to see him again alone. I wanted to be able to talk more about my mother without anyone else around. He agreed and said he hoped I wouldn't wait six months before I saw him again. I promised it wouldn't be that long.

I have seen Roy several times since that first meeting. Each time I go, we have a drink to my mother. He says he has to treat me very special because someone is watching him. I believe she is. Roy has provided me with many more details about my mother that I can't go into here. The picture he has painted of her has been, overall, a good one; one laced with much heartache for him and for her. I intend to maintain my ties with Roy, and he wants to do the same. I continued to see my Uncle Jim nearly every week, and talked to him on the phone at least twice a week. I know we will have an ongoing relationship. I am so happy and I have a lot to be thankful for and a lot to live for...

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