Yesterday, I googled the name of my father by birth to see if he was still alive. He isn’t, he passed not very long ago, his obit held information that helped me in his family tree which is most welcome, other than that, nothing has changed with his death, I didn’t know him, his choice from the start to the end.
I don’t feel anything at all about his passing other than a sense of sadness at what could have been, but wasn’t, in reality, it’s just another milestone in this journey of life being adopted. I did find pictures of my paternal aunts. And I did what I do with every picture of a family member I receive, I find myself scanning their features to see if I can see myself reflected back, to see what I’ll look like if I reach their age. Searching for proof that I belong in that genetic clan, to him, to my ancestors.
Being adopted means you often find yourself sitting on the outside looking in, sometimes never fully part of either.
Happy Thanksgiving my friends, may you find joy, laughter, even welcome tears from stories told today, stay safe wherever you are.
PS. If you comment, I’m looking for comments on how you are, how your Thanksgiving is/was, not about me, I’m good. 🙂