Today is the day 19 years ago that I placed my son, Joseph, for adoption. I'm never quite sure when to remember him. Do I take a moment on his birthday, October 17th? Do I commemorate him today on the day he went home with his forever family? I know, I can remember him on any ordinary day that I want but after 19 years I still don't know what to do. It's kind of a mixed bag because I want people to remember what happened and to acknowledge his life but I don't want to remind them either.
It's hard because I don't feel old enough to have done anything of significance! Let alone do something almost 20 years ago that affected so many people in such a huge way! How can this be since I'm only 30 years old? Gosh, I wouldn't want to redo 30 so I'll just stick to being 39 - I like it!
I wonder what Joseph looks like at 19. Is he away at college or did he stay home and learn a trade? Does he have a girlfriend or has he discerned a vocation in the priesthood already? Does he have red hair like his brothers and sister? Is he tall like the McNamara family or is he average in height? Is he obsessed with sports like the rest of us or is he more into the arts (or both)?
I guess what I wonder most is if he ever wonders about me? Does he know he's adopted? I can only assume that they've told him but I don't know that for a fact. If he does know, has he read all of the letters that I've written through the years? Has he seen pictures of Murphy, Briege, and Keagan? Does he ever want to meet me and his siblings that all know about him and pray for him? My canned response has always been that I won't seek him out because I want it to be his decision but I would like to know where he is so that I can take a peek at him. Is that wrong? I'm trying to convince myself that it doesn't hurt me that he hasn't requested information about me from the agency. I'm trying to convince myself that what I did was for him and for his parents and that I'm secondary to the picture. I'm trying to convince myself that I'm stronger than I really am. I'm failing, friends! I'm hurting, I'm depressed, I'm surprised, I'm weak!
I love you, Joseph. I truly love you and I pray and hope and know that you are happy. I want you to know that I have never stopped thinking about you and that I want nothing more than your happiness. Convincing? Well, I believe what I say but I'm hurting as I say it. Is that wrong, too?
I'm hurting.
I'm depressed.
I'm surprised.
I'm weak.
2 comments:
Awesome post, Kells. Why are you calling yourself weak, though? You're probably the strongest person I've ever met.
*Hugs*
My prayers and offerings are with you today.
I cannot believe I have missed all of your posts in the name of busyness. That is a load of crap...I certainly should have seen this one specifically. So first I apologize. Secondly, with tear filled eyes, I love from afar. (well, I love from across town!). You are who you are because of defining moments like the day Joseph was born. I know you wouldn't change a thing. And, for the record, next time CALL ME and cry....it is OK. I will listen, and then, as usual, I will close our conversation with an inappropriate joke--my lame attempt to make you laugh. That is just how I roll. (sadly) ;)
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