Sparks and Butterflies

Dear Jeannette,

I have really been struggling. Your death has caused my life to go into a tailspin. Why didn’t you at least try to communicate with me? Why did you leave all the questions you knew I had? I am now learning to deal with the fact that I just will never know. I can’t know my biological father, because you wouldn’t give me the information. You died without ever doing it. And you wanted it that way. Now, I’m a biological orphan.

You know? I don’t understand it at all. I’m a mother. I cannot in my life imagine leaving my children without something. If I knew that I were dying I would leave them something of me. Something to tell them of me. To let them know how I feel about them – otherwise they’d never know. I would probably write them letters. Give them pieces of information that they wouldn’t have otherwise, so that hopefully they won’t have as many questions once I’m no longer there to provide them. Because, as a mother, I want to help them.

You didn’t. You’ve known for years this was going to happen. You knew a year ago that it would probably be this year. You knew 6 months ago it was inevitable. And a month ago, you knew it could be any day. How could you?

How could you leave me hanging? You knew what my questions were. You knew where I was.

The last things you asked for was a picture of the kids. MY sons.

But you never even mentioned me. To the end, you never mentioned me – the big ol’ elephant in the room. And I’ll have to live with that the rest of my life. That I wasn’t worth your mention, even on your death bed.

Lemme tell you – it’s done wonders for my self esteem.

But I’m finally able to start living again. I guess the wound is starting to scab over.

I have one last thing to ask you. Wherever you are, could you please help me not to pick at it too much? I just don’t want to hurt any more because of you.

With all the love you never wanted,

Michele

I’m having a lot harder time with this than I anticipated. I’ve had to take my allotted bereavement leave today and tomorrow from work. I didn’t think I’d have to do it. I mean, she didn’t raise me from 4 years old on, right? But I feel much much more than I thought I would. I’m sorry if the entries are small and disjointed for now. I need some time.

it is over. it is done. she is gone.

Stacey, per your request, this is a warning that you don’t want to read on.

The rest of the entry is below the fold.

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For the last month or so, I haven’t been visiting the adoption boards as I once did. I haven’t been moving forward in the search for the oldest sister. I haven’t done much of anything in particular since finding my youngest sister. I did send the letter to my brother (althought I haven’t heard anything). I did send the adoption waiver to the state for my oldest sister’s file. But I know where she is and who she is, and yet, I haven’t moved on it.

The only thing I can think of is that finding my youngest sister was so overwhelming and BIG to me that I’ve wanted to soak that in first.

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Okay, just got the update. She’s going to have the fluid drained around her heart over night, and then go home tomorrow. More of this is in her future. Oy.

I was just thinking… I wonder… Does she have a box in her house? With photos of us kids? Good Lord what I wouldn’t give for that box.

So, mom just called me from Vegas. Jeannette is in the hospital. I’m not surprised. She put herself there. She needs a transplant, and is unwilling to do what she needs to do to get one (ie: quite smoking and drinking). She’s made her choice to die instead.

Now that I’ve made the transition into knowing that I’ll be finding my family without her anyway, I’m now surprisingly cold about her possible demise now. I’m surprised. I thought I’d feel more, even if it was negative. I will be going to her funeral if she has one, I’ve already made that decision.

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