Well, this journey has quickened. Two mornings ago, I read a long email from my birth father. I found out about his existence an hour after I wrote the last post on this blog. I'm feeling completely overwhelmed. The bf seems like a very warm, passionate and intelligent fellow. He has dabbled in journalism, and currently works on behalf of the public school teachers of California. He has been married for 16 years, traveled Europe extensively, and run with the bulls in Pamplona. These facts are powerful, and they sit heavy on that blank page.
Plus, he sent me a photo of himself. I spent about 10 minutes straight looking at it. The understanding that I look like somebody's son slowly seeped into my cells and my psyche. I always imagined an instant recognition when I saw a blood relative, but that was not the case. As I looked, I began to see my nose emerge, later that day I saw my teeth. Yesterday I realized how I look like him in the same way Zadok and other friends of mine look like their fathers-- about half. It's just funny that I never picked up on this subtlety of family resemblance. He is as much a part of my DNA as he is not. There's another half to pursue, and then even that mixture becomes something else entirely as it finds expression in me. It is a significant item to place on my blank page, this photo, but I learned it is not as conclusive as I thought it would be.
I was prepared (as much as I could be) for any number of scenarios to emerge from contact with my birth father. Despite the exciting and romantic details of his life, the most reassuring part of his email was his closing line, "let the dialogue continue...." I've received an invitation to know and be known by my birth father. I don't think I could have hoped for more at this point.
1 comment:
you're somebody's son--but of course. most of us take that for granted. weird eh?
Post a Comment