X. A cocktail, a cross and communion

Michael informed our sister, Teresa, not long after our first phone call, of her new family member. She did not integrate this major development into her life as easily as Michael had. When Michael told me of this I could tell he was very concerned about my well being…like someone who really cared about me would be. We decided not to tell any other family members for awhile. I reassured him that I was not surprised or offended by her reaction. It was what I would have considered normal. It is what I would have expected from anyone dealing with this kind of revelation. I had over a year to digest all of this. I was not going to expect anyone to just embrace this immediately. Teresa has known loss…a husband, a brother and not long ago, a father. This was in all probability another loss, the altering of a cherished image she had of her father. I knew she too would be concerned about protecting her mother and the memory of her father. I would not be meeting Teresa on this trip, maybe never. But then again, I never thought I would ever get to meet any of them.

Although it did hurt, it hurt deeply, I truly do empathize with them all. I know first hand what it is like to have a history you base your life on, for better or worse, altered so drastically in but a few moments. I would need to alter my own expectations of these possible relationships and would leave the door open should she ever choose to enter. Honestly I was in no hurry to have more new family in my life at the time. It was enough to have Michael, Michelle, my nieces and nephew for now. I was still getting use to the idea of any family taking up space in my life.

I set off before the crack of dawn on my journey. I enjoy driving. It is an opportunity to be alone with my thoughts and musings. I spent the next eight hours moving from ‘daydreams” of reunion to the reality of it. This was happening…how had this happened..so much had happened.

I took stock of my overall state of mind. It was considerably altered from just a couple of years ago. I had been lonely and didn’t know what to do with myself. I had done what so many well intention-ed parents do. I made our daughter my life. I loved it but as she matured she ‘needed’ me less and less, as she should if we did our job well. In the in-between years I neglected ‘My’ life and it just sort of wandered away. Once she was in college, engaging in her social life and working I rarely saw her. My husband had continued to engage in his hobbies and outside interest. The transition was much easier for him.

I had become melancholy, retreating into past memories, to find comfort in the familiar. Memories are always there, just as we imagine them to be. I realized it was also about control. I’m in control of memories, safe, secure, known. Our daughter was going further out into the world, I had little control in keeping her safe and that made me insecure… the unknown.

But now I felt much different. So much ‘unknown’ had become known and changed my perspective so drastically. I hardly ever thought about the past. I was more interested in the now and future of where ‘now’ was taking me. I was excited about life once more.

The closer I got to my destination the more anxiety replaced my excitement and optimistic attitude for this next step froward. By the time I pulled into their driveway I was having a full blown panic attack. I sat there and literally said out loud, “You don’t have to go in. You can put the truck in reverse and drive back to Texas”.

But I couldn’t do that. I had made a commitment, to them and myself. I would see this through. Even if it turned out to be the end of something that, over the phone, had become very fulfilling and important to me. It was worth the chance that it would continue to be so…or not. I turned the truck off. My breathing had become labored, my heart raced and I was a bit dizzy as I walked to their front door…and then I just stood there, unable to knock.

Within a few moments the door opened and there stood my brother and sister-n-law with huge smiles on their faces. I managed to mumble ” I think I might pass out”. They both stepped out and physically embraced me, held me up, supported me. My anxiety began to subside a bit. They had words of comfort and reassurance. I felt the tension leaving my body.

Having just written that, I am overcome with the emotion of reliving that moment. Moments like these would manifest repeatedly over the next 48 hours…well actually, they haven’t stopped manifesting.

We stepped inside and there were my nieces, Sarah and Ashley. Big, beautiful smiles, hugs…my anxiety dissipating rapidly. They are 20 year old twins, not at all identical. When Ashley was told early on about me, her response was, “Grampy, that little stinker”. Sarah has a very outgoing personality. They both have such a healthy outlook on life. I was already feeling the pride of being their uncle. A few moments later a door I was standing in front of opened. I turned and there stood my 13 year old nephew, Landon. I shook his hand and introduced myself.

Landon had only been told about me the day before. It was decided early on in our conversations that it would be to big of a secret to ask him to keep from his grandmother. However, they decided the day before I came to tell him. He would have figured it out. He is incredibly intelligent and observant. Ashley and Sarah couldn’t stop looking at me and smiling. I knew I reminded them of their late grandfather and uncle. Michelle made sure I knew they all liked me for me. She is genuinely concerned with everyone’s well-being. When the dog, which had been a favorite of my fathers, jumped up on my lap everyone seemed surprised…except Landon. “I know why he likes you. You look just like grampy”.

I had been in their home for less than 30 minutes and my anxiety was gone. I felt at ease and just flowed with the experience as it unfolded. They were who I had deduced they were from our phone conversations. Genuine, no pretense or hidden agenda. Michael retrieved a bottle of Scotch and two glasses from a cupboard and asked me to join him in the den. He had taken this bottle from our father house after he had passed and saved it for special occasions. We drank a toast to our father and brother. Actually we each took a small sip and confessed that neither of us was a Scotch drinker. We went back to the kitchen, he got a beer and I made myself a Gin and tonic.

While Michelle was finishing up making dinner, (shrimp or craw-fish etouffee, can’t remember which but it was the “nectar of the Gods” delicious!) Michael and I stepped outside. He brought up the idea of calling Uncle Ted while I was there. I had conflicting emotions about this realizing I still felt like a burden to Ted. For some reason I still thought Ted regretted me finding him. I didn’t think Ted would want to talk to me and it would be an awkward conversation. I politely asked if we could table that idea until the next evening.

We finished dinner and all ended up back in the den. We had been sharing stories and getting to know each other when Michelle came into the room holding a small glass domed container with a cross and a leaf hanging in it. She opened the container and handed me the cross to hold. As she recounted the story behind the cross I felt…its hard to find words that can adequately describe what I was feeling but it was, is, a connectivity on a spiritual and physical level.

My father had given her this cross a number of years ago. As he lay unresponsive, days away from moving on from this world, she was compelled to bring it to the hospital. He had been a Deacon in his church for over two decades and she wished him to bless it for her. She placed it in his frail hand, gently, while speaking to him asking for this one last gesture of his faith. There was a momentary physical response from him. He would soon make his final transition.

I was holding the last thing my father had blessed, maybe one of the last of the few things he had contact with before he moved on. I was deeply honored to be part of this moment, almost two years since the moment had passed. I felt him. I felt the love his family had…has for him. I was part of this family. This was part of my legacy now, as well. With reverence and deep appreciation for being allowed to cradle it, I handed the cross back to Michelle.

It was getting late, close to midnight. This was in the middle of the week so I knew they all needed to get up and go to work and school in the morning. I was exhausted but didn’t want to say goodnight. They had shown me photos and items that had belonged to my father. I told them more about my life. We had all shared ‘remembrance’ on an emotional, mental and spiritual level…communion. Michelle let me know that Landon had come to her earlier in the evening and asked if it was OK to call me uncle Rob. He had already gone to bed, but it was insisted that I wake him up and say goodnight before I left.

“Hey, Landon. I just wanted to say goodnight, I’ll see you tomorrow and you can most certainly call me Uncle Rob…oh, and I love you, Nephew”.

“I love you too, uncle Rob”

He put his arms around my neck, gave me a hug and drifted back to sleep.

Tears of gratitude rolled down my cheeks and joy filed my heart as I drove back to my little Airbnb cottage that night. It wasn’t just another daydream or wishful thinking, the connection I had been experiencing was real and reciprocated. I belonged here.

It was a very good day!

1 thought on “X. A cocktail, a cross and communion”

  1. Ok, this made me cry again! What a wonderful gift you have.. to be able to bring me into the story as if I was witnessing the whole thing..

Leave a Reply