by Diane Burke
What made it easier to leave was the knowledge that it wouldn’t be long until we were together again. It was the middle of April. Steven, my oldest grandson, would be graduating from high school the end of May. I was barely out of the driveway before my mind began scheming about ways to come back for it.
The telephone calls from Steve came right on the dot at seven o’clock every night. During one of those calls, the subject of Steven’s graduation came up and I tentatively broached the subject about coming for it. The Orlandi family was thrilled I would be willing to come back that soon. When they found out that David and his wife, Esther, wanted to fly out for that weekend, too, we started making definite plans.
Since I had already told Steve that his Uncle Michael and family were coming to Florida for a vacation, another road trip came to fruition. Steve suggested he drive down the weekend after Mother’s Day, visit with me, see my home, meet some of my friends, and then drive into Orlando to meet both uncles, their families, and his other brother, Dan, and his family.
It sounded wonderful to me.
To make it even better, Steve and Barb decided to drive me back with them. I’d stay the week. I’d be there for the graduation and I’d be there to greet Dave and Esther when they flew in. Then, Steve could take me to the airport Sunday night and I could fly home.
Nine days with my son and his family. Count me in!
The weekend that Steve and Barb arrived was everything and more than I’d hoped it would be. They toured my home and the amenities of my retirement community. They stayed in a condo on the beach—the Outrigger Beach Club to be exact—the timeshare that Bill and I had sold units for when we lived in Michigan when we’d first met.
Now Bill was gone, but I was here at the Outrigger looking out over the ocean with my long-lost son by my side.
God’s plans for our lives sometimes crack me up with their irony.
Oh, and by the way, did I remember to tell you that Barb found a bright shiny penny in the parking lot?
Steve and Barb were looking forward to the trip into Orlando to meet the rest of the family. I was a little nervous. I knew my siblings and their families would be warm and gracious when they met him. I was more concerned about how this meeting would affect my son, Dan. I knew he was genuinely happy for me that Steve had found me and wanted to develop a relationship with me. But the whole idea had slapped him upside the head without warning and I wasn’t so sure he’d had sufficient time to come to grips with it all. I can still remember him shaking his head and saying, “I can’t believe I’ve gone from being the oldest to suddenly being someone’s kid brother.”
When we pulled up to my brother’s condominium complex, half of my family was already upstairs in the condo. My grandchildren were in the pool and, Dan, his wife Claudia, and my brother, Tom, were sitting at a table nearby keeping an eye on the kids. When they saw us arrive, Tom and Dan walked over to the gate to greet us. Claudia stayed behind with the kids.
Steve shook Tom’s hand. When Steve approached Dan, he leaned toward him. I was surprised to see Dan man-hug him back. You know, the kind of hug where it is really more grasping each other’s arms with both hands and lasts about three seconds, but is definitely more intimate and inviting than a plain handshake.
Before any conversations could start, Tom efficiently herded us toward the condo, telling us that my other brother, Michael, and his family and my niece, and all the cousins were already waiting for us upstairs. Dan turned and joined Claudia back at the pool.
More than a dozen family members were upstairs. After introductions, Steve and Barb sat on the sofa and Steve told his version of his search and his reaction to the first telephone call with his mother. It was a moving rendition, caused a chuckle here and there and brought a tear to more than one eye in the room.
I sat on the sidelines with a wide grin on my face and watched. I was so proud of my son. He’d watched this exact moment happen on television for someone else years ago, and now it was happening to him. He’d walked into a room full of strangers and found his family waiting and happy to meet him.
About that time, Tom came into the condo and told Steve and Barb that Dan wanted to know if he would come down to the pool area.
All three of us stood to go and Tom flagged me back down. “Not you, Diane.”
“What? Why not?” I asked.
“Because Dan wants to talk to Steve without you there.”
Steve saw the worried expression on my face and said, “Don’t worry, Ma. I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself. Sit down and visit with the rest of your family. Barb and I shouldn’t be too long.” They grabbed some cold sodas for everyone at the pool. At the door, Steve stopped and looked back at me. “Ma, I don’t want to look up at the window and see you like Garfield pressed against the glass. Relax. Enjoy your visit. Everything’s going to be fine.”
I sat back down, but I didn’t relax. I couldn’t imagine why Dan would be adamant that I not go downstairs. None of it made sense. My family members tried to distract me and I played along with them, but it wasn’t working. I could barely keep my eyes off my watch.
When more than an hour passed and no one had come back from the pool, I had had enough. I told Tom I was going downstairs to see what was going on. When I got to the pool, I was surprised and pleased with what I saw. My grandkids were still playing in the pool. Steve, Barb, Claudia, and Dan were sitting at a table nearby. They were laughing and talking to each other like old friends.
Later, of course, I questioned Dan as to why he did things the way he did. He told me it would have felt awkward for him to try and hold a conversation with Steve upstairs with half of our family watching and clinging on their every word. He’d asked me to stay away because he wanted to form his own opinion of Steve, and it would be easier for him to do it if he wasn’t worried about me or my feelings.
All in all, both my sons were right. It was the perfect way for the two brothers to connect and I had nothing to worry about. And connect they did.
Steve
After I received the tour of my mom’s house and neighborhood, and after staying at the timeshare resort that was instrumental in bringing my mom to Florida, I was really looking forward to going down to Orlando to meet some more of my family.
I was able to meet two uncles, two aunts, tons of cousins, my other brother, my sister-in-law, and my nephews for the first time.
I think the most surprising thing about the whole weekend was that I felt completely comfortable. I did not feel overwhelmed in that big group setting even though I am a solitary person. I felt completely at ease. I looked around the room and my mind kept saying to me That’s your uncle, That’s your aunt, That’s your other uncle, That’s your brother, Those are your cousins. This time I welcomed that voice that had nagged me on and off since the age of six. I knew for the first time in my life that I wasn’t pretending anymore.
The relationships weren’t there yet and were just beginning, but just the fact that I didn’t have to pretend anymore was a relief. Nobody in that room could say I didn’t belong here. These people were my real, biological family and that bond was the first taste of big family that I got.
I enjoyed that visit immensely and I still look forward to someday meeting the rest of them. I’ve connected with most of them online. Slowly, I’m sure I’ll meet them at some point in the years to come as my “clan” gathers for family occasions.
The situation could have been strange for me because I didn’t know these people. I knew my adoptive family, my adoptive parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and I loved them, but there was always that “pretend” cloud hovering above it.
But the situation wasn’t strange. In fact, it was the complete opposite of strange. I didn’t know them, but I felt like I loved them and I now knew that I belonged to that group. So it was really crazy.
If I divided the room into two sides, I’d have the adoptive parents whom I know and love and know everything about, but they’re not really
my blood relatives, and then on the other side are the biological family that I’m blood-related to but I don’t know.
It messed with my mind. It felt just as strange and surreal as the day I knew I was going to talk to my mother for the first time and get all my answers at seven o’clock that night.
It takes an adjustment period. Who knows how long that adjustment period is? I’m still going through it.
Chapter
14
Diane
The Sunday before we drove home, Steve and Barb accompanied me to my church. I was appreciative that they did because Steve doesn’t have any strong religious convictions, doesn’t attend church, and it was obvious he did it to please me. He told me later that he was surprised but that he had really enjoyed the sermon and meeting with my friends.
I wasn’t surprised. Number one, the people at Crossroads Calvary Chapel are warm and welcoming. Number two, God had His hands all over this entire reunion. It shouldn’t have surprised Steve at all that he had heard a little of God’s voice in that Sunday sermon.
Steve drove home. Barb sat beside him in the passenger seat and I was in the back. On the way home, I broached a subject I had been concerned about.
“Steve, can I ask you something? Did you find it difficult to forgive me?”
My eyes caught and held with his in the rearview mirror. He looked puzzled. “Forgive you for what?”
“Giving you away.”
“There’s nothing to forgive, Mom. You’ve told me the whole story and, truthfully, you had no choice. The only anger I feel is maybe a little bit of anger toward all the family members who hurt you in your life. This life is tough. We should be able to trust the people closest to us. You were hurt by people who never should have hurt you. That makes me mad.
“But I’m not mad at you. I understand what happened. Besides, I had a good childhood. I was a happy kid. I have nothing to be angry with you about.”
Just about that time, nature called and I asked Steve to stop at a rest area. He pulled into a fast food establishment and dropped Barb and I at the door, telling us he’d wait in the car.
I headed for the bathroom. Barb went to the counter and placed an order. When I came out of the bathroom, I joined her at the counter. She asked if I wanted anything and I told her no. Since she was still waiting for her order, I told her that I was going to go outside and wait in the car with Steve.
I walked out to the parking lot, glanced at the cars, and didn’t see Steve. Thinking I probably went out the wrong door, I walked back inside, crossed the building, and went out the other door to that parking lot.
No Steve.
So I went back inside to the counter to ask Barb if she knew where he was.
No Barb.
I went back outside both doors twice more thinking maybe I had mistaken what car he was driving.
Still no sign of either one of them.
I had just sat down at a table and was trying to decide what I should do next when I saw Steve pull into the parking lot like a Nascar driver. He jumped out of the car and greeted me as I walked toward him.
“I’m sorry, Ma.” He was laughing his head off. “I went to get gas. When I texted Barb and told her to tell you, she texted back that she was in the restroom and that you had already gone out to the parking lot.” He tried hard to control his laughter but couldn’t and kept cracking up.
“I can only imagine what you must have been thinking when both Barb and I disappeared,” he said. “Particularly since we’d just had that conversation about whether I was angry with you. I guess dumping you in a fast food joint in another state and taking off could qualify as being angry.”
Steve laughed about the whole thing. He laughed for days and days to come every time it crossed his mind.
Truthfully, I did too.
Steve
My son, Steven’s, graduation was probably the first time I actually got visibly emotional about anything in quite a while. Meeting my mother and brother had been unbelievable enough and had moved me deeply even if I didn’t let myself show it. But Steven’s graduation. That put me over the top. I was such a proud father. I am extremely proud of both my sons, but this particular day my focus was on Steven. This was a significant milestone in his life and in mine and I couldn’t keep my emotions from showing.
When we were all sitting in the bleachers, ironically at the college that Steven was going to be attending, I kind of took a mental step back. I watched and clapped as he walked on stage and accepted his diploma and my eyes never left him as he walked back down to his seat. I heard my adoptive mother whistling and other family members shouting and cheering and calling Steven’s name.
And then it hit me.
I was sitting at my first-born son’s graduation, one of the most significant moments of our family lives, and I was with my adoptive parents, my wife, my step-daughter, my son, Kevin, and miraculously with my mother, my brother, and his wife.
It hit me hard that there were three people there to see my son graduate who, just a little more than a month before, I hadn’t even known existed. I couldn’t have ever imagined this could be possible.
As most of the days after I’d met my mother for the first time, this one was dreamlike. It wasn’t just that my son was graduating, which was emotional enough for me as it was, but the fact that my mother and my brother were there to see it affected me strongly. That was the second most terrific weekend in my life.
Diane
The hustle and bustle of everyone preparing for the graduation felt as normal, hectic, and fun as any other gathering I had ever had with my siblings and children. But this one was different. This was a family that, six weeks ago, I hadn’t had a clue even existed.
Yet, here we were.
Sharing the bathrooms for last minute makeup and clothing adjustments. Milling in the kitchen trying to snitch a bite from some of the goodies Barbara had prepared for the open house following the ceremony. Yelling and calling out for everyone to hurry up so we could take family pictures in the front yard.
I heard my son, David, laughing in the next room, probably at some sarcastic remark Steve had made.
I watched Barbara mumbling a checklist under her breath so she wouldn’t forget anything for the party while simultaneously making sure Steven was dressed to the nines and wearing his honors medal.
I teased Kevin, pet the dogs Beau and Bella, followed Barb around asking if she needed my help, and spent some time talking with Esther.
It was a relaxing, fun, exciting time and I couldn’t believe how happy I was or how much at home I felt with this family. But then … I should have felt that way. It was my family—a family of strangers I was quickly coming to love.
We drove in a caravan to the college and sat in a slow-moving traffic pattern until we were directed to our spot in the parking lot. Steve jumped out as soon as we parked and hurried ahead to meet up with his adoptive parents. His father was in a wheelchair because of the skin graft on his leg. Steve wanted to help his mother make sure she could manage getting him from the car into the auditorium. The rest of us walked in one large, talking, laughing group until we found our way inside.
Because of the wheelchair, Steve’s adoptive parents weren’t able to sit with the rest of us in the bleachers. But Steve sat as close to them as possible and found us seats together only four rows below.
I had not been feeling well for the last couple of months and was a bit uncomfortable with our seats. I was worried that if I needed to use a restroom, I would be disrupting everyone by trying to climb over them to get out of the row. I told Barb that I was going to go around to the other side and sit on the end of the row so I’d be able to get up and leave if I needed to without disturbing anyone.
As I climbed the stairs to make my way around to the other set of steps leading to the far side of our row, I spotted Nancy and Joe, Steve’s parents.
“Do you mind if I sit with you?” I asked.
“Not at all. Please, have a seat,” N
ancy replied.
Steve grinned and shook his head when he saw all three of his parents sitting together.
Yeah, this was an unusual day for all of us.
While we were waiting for the ceremony to begin, Nancy started talking to me. She told me different stories about Steve as a small boy. Different things he liked and things he didn’t. She talked about teaching Steve how to throw a baseball and how much he had loved baseball as a child. She told me about standing in the hospital, seeing her grandson, Steven, in his bassinet. She said she had been there, right by Steven’s side, for every birthday and important day of his life. She stated how unbelievable it was to her that the years had passed so quickly and she was now sitting at his graduation.
Listening to the things Nancy said caused me the same pain I experienced looking at the pictures. I had missed out on both my son’s life and my grandchildren’s. I hadn’t raised my child, she had. She was the one who had rocked him to sleep at night, who had heard his first word, who had watched him take his first step.
Nancy had sent him off on his first day of school. Had built snowmen in the yard with him. And sent him sailing down a hill on a sled. These were all memories that belonged to the woman beside me. They weren’t mine to claim.
Nancy was Steve’s mother.
I don’t know if it makes sense to anyone other than me, but the truth of the matter was that I was equally grateful and resentful. She had done for my son what I hadn’t been able to do for him on my own. She had done a wonderful job. Steve constantly told me what a happy childhood he had. And he’d grown up to be a wonderful man. I would owe Nancy my undying gratitude for the rest of my life.
But Nancy had also had all those moments, all those wonderful, cherished moments that I had forever lost.