25. His name is Brian.

I had every intention of writing a post on Father’s Day this year. I planned to talk about my dad. The man who raised me. It didn’t happen, though, because that day, my family lost my aunt Peggy. She was my godmother, and my mom’s middle sister who was just over a year younger than my mom. She was a very special and beloved member of our family and will be missed. I’ll save the post about my dad for another day.

Today I need to get some thoughts down, because something happened yesterday that I never thought I would do. I always say, be careful when saying “never”- it always seems to come back around to me. Yesterday, I had a phone conversation with the widow of my biological father.

His name is Brian. In previous posts, I had called him “Steven”. Additionally, in this blog I have called one of Lori’s brothers Brian as well, so I don’t mean to be confusing. But again, I am telling this story from my gut and my heart, and no one is asking me to keep his name anonymous. And my feelings about him have changed since the summer of 2019. He still may have made some poor choices, but without them I don’t exist. So, his name is Brian.

From the beginning, and up until very recently, I have said many times that I had no intention of trying to contact his family. Especially once my birth record had revealed that he had been married at the time I was conceived…I certainly didn’t want to be the one bringing that news to anyone. Besides, I knew that he had passed away in 2012, so what difference would it make? I don’t know, though…ever since last summer when I saw Moira ( 21. “an unexpected message”), I’ve felt drawn toward him. Kind of a gut feeling, it’s hard to explain. Again, I’m fully aware some people might think I’m nuts, or concocting things in my own mind. Maybe dreaming up something the way I’d like it to be? But once again, I’m just telling you all how I’m feeling, and I have had a sense for quite a while that maybe I need to find out more about him. Almost as if he wants me to.

I shared these thoughts with Bridget and she couldn’t have been more excited. I asked her if she could try to locate his widow, and confirm whether she was still alive. In the usual Bridget style, I had Cindy’s current address and phone number within an hour. I decided quickly that I would write to her. I was not prepared to pick up the phone blindly with this kind of introduction.

It took me a couple of weeks to gather my thoughts. I wrote a rough draft, then went out and bought a pretty blank card with a big, red poppy on the front. During the weeks while I was thinking it through, Bridget dug up and sent me some new pictures of my birth father from high school. His school has old yearbook photos uploaded to Ancestry.com that she was able to find easily. He was a handsome young man. What’s really crazy is how much of our son Brady I see in him. The smile is so similar, and I think it might be where he gets his curls?

I mailed that card on Wednesday, July 21. I tried to explain myself as clearly and as delicately as I knew how. I provided all my contact information, and I waited. Unbelievably, I only had to wait until Friday evening at 5pm. She contacted me via Facebook messenger. It was such a kind, enthusiastic message. I was so relieved. She said that she was so happy for me that I had found my birth family, and she was just so sure that Brian would have been thrilled to know about me. She gave me her phone number and we agreed to get in touch the next day.

Saturday afternoon, I called Cindy and missed her. I left a voicemail, and she called me back not long after. We talked for about 45 minutes. She was so sweet, and kind. She told me all about how she and Brian met and were married. She talked about him- he was very intelligent and spoke three languages (just like it says in my birth record!), he was so much fun, the life of the party and a great storyteller. She remembered sweet stories about him telling stories in Irish and English accents, entertaining friends that were listening.

Cindy talked a little about Brian’s son. He lives in Germany and would be my half brother. Before you ask- I don’t know if I’ll reach out to him- I just haven’t thought that far ahead yet. If he would reach out to me, I would have no problem with that, though. Brian and his mother split when he was young, and they stayed in Germany. According to Cindy, there was really no communication with Brian over the years. No writing, phone calls, etc, and this was always difficult for Brian, and a source of pain for him. After she and Brian married, Cindy was able to make contact with Brian’s son online, and eventually, she and Brian went to Germany, and they were able to spend time together, and she said that after that, Brian was happier.

Brian died in 2012 after a difficult battle with metastatic cancer. In the end, he had a spine laminectomy to relieve pain that left him paralyzed. Hearing that really stung for me- it brought back all the memories of my mom’s battle with lung cancer. Her tumor also went to her spine, and she was paralyzed for the last two weeks of her life.

We finished the conversation with a promise to stay in touch and to exchange some pictures. I’m hoping to get in touch with one of his brothers, we’ll see if that works out. She kept repeating how sorry she was that I missed him, and that he missed me…she was so certain that he would have been so happy to have me in his life.

My husband and daughter and I were heading out to get some dinner after the phone call. I was caught off guard by how sad I felt. It was very similar to how I had felt about Lori…I was feeling a loss of someone I had never met. A loss of a relationship that could have been, but never was. Also, I’m seeing Brian in a different way now. I’m reminded that people are not defined by one choice, one decision, one action or inaction. This may sound strange, but I have forgiven him for the hurtful results of his decisions in 1972. I know that they weren’t made alone, but Lori certainly had to carry the weight, and she carried it the rest of her life. But I forgive Brian now, and that feels good. I hope their souls are both at peace. Because I look up from my laptop, and my three awesome kids are talking in my kitchen, and that decision in late 1972 doesn’t seem like a mistake at all.