Today I heard my birth father's voice for the first time on the telephone. I had seen his picture on Facebook, but planned to contact him later after digesting everything I've learned about my birth mother Rosie, and her family. But in that process, an unexpected death stopped me in my tracks and set me on a different course. During my investigation into my birth mother's life, I located her second husband, John, to whom she had been married when she passed in 2005, and his two sons, step-children she helped raise, on Facebook. I was concerned with contacting him directly, afraid my asking such personal questions about his late wife would be too intrusive and could bring up painful memories of her death. My desire is to be as accommodating and cordial as possible, never forgetting this adoption story does not belong only to me. I decided instead to contact his sons, thinking they might be more sympathetic to my inquiry, being sons themselves. My Uncle Jerry told me Rosie's family all knew about me, so I wasn't too concerned they would be suspicious of some stranger claiming to be their step-mom's long lost child. I sent both sons, now adults, a message and the youngest replied after only a few hours (I'm not sharing names out of respect for their privacy). He was both stunned and pleased I had found them. I assured him I wasn't interested in anything more than hearing stories and memories of his late step-mom. He promised to send me some photos, video and more details about who Rosie was as a person and a mother. I thanked him and told him to take his time. If out of the blue, someone contacted me asking for details on the life of one of my deceased loved ones, I'd need some time to gather my thoughts, too.
I'm not sure if life or time is more fleeting. Neither are guaranteed to anyone and I was reminded of this brutal truth last week. A few days later, the son I had corresponded with called his dad to let him know I had found them on Facebook. He too was elated and asked his son to give me his phone number so I could call. The next evening, after having dinner with some friends, John died suddenly. Sadly, we never got the chance to talk. I had waited to contact this side of Rosie's family out of fear they might not want to hear from me. Even though Uncle Jerry felt they would be open to it, I had no way of knowing for sure how they would react if I reached out to them. I'm less afraid of rejection, than upsetting someone else's life. And of course, I had no way of knowing John would die unexpectedly. If only I had taken the initiative and contacted them earlier, perhaps we would've been able to speak about his late wife and my birth mother. Perhaps he would've felt some closure on behalf of his wife. In the end, though, maybe knowing I found them gave him some closure on this part his life, after all.
After hearing this tragic news, I spent the following weekend pondering whether I should reach out to my birth father or wait like I had planned. Again, thanks to Uncle Jerry and Facebook, I knew who he was, what he looked like and where he lived. Fortunately for him, he lives in Florida. Much too far away for me to stalk him. And as a side note, how did we ever live without Facebook? Many people have criticized the state of Ohio for not unsealing the adoption records until 2015 and I agree. However, I can't imagine trying to trace my roots or finding my birth parents without the internet, let alone Facebook. Imagine how many hours it would take to sift through stacks of phone directories or newspapers at the local library. Or calling dozens of wrong phone numbers until finding the correct listing. And God forbid sending letters via snail mail. It took roughly twelve days for my original birth certificate to arrive in Xenia from Columbus. It would've taken me less time to walk there and back. Email, messaging, and Facebook has made this whole process easy and to some extent, enjoyable. For this, Mark Zuckerberg and Google have my sincere thanks. I digress. Since he was right there, only a click away, I decided to message my birth father. I felt like I couldn't wait any longer or tempt fate. I needed to at least make contact, if nothing else. Again, life is fleeting and I couldn't risk something happening before we at least spoke. He got my message and responded. After a few failed attempts, tonight we finally talked to each other for the first time. It was only for a few minutes, as I was in the middle of my radio show, but I could hear in his voice he is eager to talk and has much to say. I look forward to learning about him and his family and the circumstances surrounding my birth. It'll be interesting to see where it all goes.
