Sometimes closure in our lives happens when we least expect it.
This morning it occurred in the wee small hours while watching a compilation CD of some old family 8 mm films sent (early) for a 54th Birthday surprise. They were films from a past life I never knew...never remembered.
I was adopted before I was three by my paternal grandparents. When I discovered this fact at age 13 I was told by The Grandmother that I had been basically discarded. That my mother did not love me or want me. I didn't remember her or know what she looked like back then. The only photograph that existed when I was young was a black and white studio portrait when I was about 5 years old.
Until this morning.
How odd at 53 to realize that this...like so many other things she told me...was a bald-faced lie. That my parents were so young when I was born. Way too young. When I looked at grainy shots from their wedding (...she was 15 and he was 16...) it was like looking at children playing dress up. They were children. The whole "you were dumped on us" she complained about, as soon as I found out I was adopted, was yet another lie. At one point she had offered (per my bio-Dad and Mom) to pay a large amount of "cash" for me. Given what must have been my young parent's financial situation back then...it makes sense. When they refused she found other ways. If there was one thing The Grandmother was good at it was bulldozing other people.
I watched it all my life growing up. Hell, there were so many times I lived it.
(Not a coincidence that her younger sister Judy had just gave birth to a little girl...and Teri and I basically grew up together..."Two Sisters with their Babies." )
The entire post-realization makes me feel a bit nauseated.
When I phoned to thank him for the CD...I explained what I had been told...basically all my life.
It sorted a lot for both of us, I think.
He also had movies he had added to it of my younger brother and I together, when we were only 2 and 3 years old.
How I miss my little brother.
Tried to locate him all my life...only to find in 2012 that he had died back in 1996 at 34 years old.
But just like finding his obituary...this morning's compilation CD helped heal a wound...provide closure. Showed me a glimpse of a life I had lived but never knew...remembered.
So excuse the ramblings today...I think everyone grows up wanting to feel they were wanted and loved.
Even if it happens after 53 years.
