So, I found my biological mom last week…

So, I found my biological mom last week. She’s dead. 

Editor Note- I usually won’t use this site for a lot of personal stuff, but will occasionally. This was huge news and this is my available medium to share.

A little bit of my “origin” story. I was adopted. Obviously. When I was five. My adopted mother, JoAnne died shortly after. It was just me and my dad, Ray, for awhile and it was pretty great. 

I knew I was adopted. I remember always living with Ray and JoAnne and I vividly recall my adoption. My biological mother was just this woman named Pam that was around occasionally.  My biological father, Richard, was around even less if at all. They…they didn’t treat me well. I remember some. I suppressed a lot. 

I also had younger siblings. Chris and Mandy. I vaguely remember them…

My dad remarried and suddenly I had a mom, Jean, and a brother, Bob. I lost my dad at 16. Honestly, it’s much tougher than you’d imagine for your only family to be a step family. I love them, but at this point I felt more like a orphan. Abused and neglected by my birth parents, abandoned by my adopted parents, and not well-connected to my step family. My friends became my family and always have been.

I never really had any desire to find my biological family. The only feelings I had for my birth parents were anger and ambivalence. For my siblings, only curiosity. 

When my dad passed away, they all tracked me down. I received a call from my brother. I ignored him. My birth mother followed up. I yelled at her. My birth father was next. He left a message with a number. I ignored this as well. I boxed up my emotions and shoved them deep down inside. 

I never much wanted to find them. I filled my life with my friends, and eventually my own family. I’d think about my siblings from time to time. I question why they weren’t adopted with me. I wonder if they had a good childhood. Curious if they are good people. But never motivated to seek them out and scared what I’d find if I did.

When I met Rebecca, I found my family. When we had Wesley I had a blood relative. I was happy.

I would still think about my biological family from time to time, but at nearly 50, I knew the likelihood of my birth parents being alive was getting less and less and the possibility of finding my siblings and having any type of relationship was also diminishing.

About two years ago I decided to get my adoption paperwork. The state of Ohio opened these records a while back so I figured why not. Even with this paperwork, there wasn’t much to go on. I did some cursory searching, but again I was never super motivated to find them, and honestly not sure what I wanted or would do if I did. 

Recently I had to get Wesley’s social security card out of our lockbox, and came across my paperwork again. I decided to search my birth mother again (my birth father’s common name Richard Smith-yes I was a Junior- makes searching for him nearly impossible). And this time something came up. An obituary. 

The first name, middle name and maiden name matched. Has did the birth year. The city and state of birth didn’t match…and there was no other info on the obit. If it had my siblings names? Case closed. Done deal. But nothing. 

After a few days with this info I called the funeral home. They said there was really no other information they could provide me. A dead end. Literally. I said look, I know my biological siblings names. They said they couldn’t tell me what they had, but if I gave them the names I had they would say yes or no. I said “Chris and Mandy, Christopher and Amanda I guess.” After a pause that seemed to be an eternity, she responded. “Yes, Mr. Richmond.” 

So, there it is. I found my biological mom. She died January 7, 2020 at 66. 

I am having emotions about it, but still after living with it for a week, I can’t tell you what those emotions are. It’s weird having feelings you cannot articulate. I mean when you’e sad you can say “I’m sad.” Happy, angry, afraid. Easy. I can’t say I’m feeling (this). To be honest, not much has changed I suppose. It is at the same time, dramatic and anti-climactic. IF I found her when she was alive would I have contacted her? I don’t know. And now, I’ll never know. Probably not though. Maybe I should have just let this one go. There was enough curiosity for me to do what I did, but beyond that there still isn’t much motivation. I assume my birth father is also dead. And from my own dusty, repressed memories I’d probably not want to cross paths with him anyway. My siblings…I don’t know. I just don’t know.

I am little surprised they didn’t seek me out when she died. They’s found me before. They know my name. I’m all over the internet. That’s a question. There’s lots of questions. I just don’t know if I have the desire, motivation or heart to find the answers. 

So tl;dr I found my biological mother last week. She’s dead. And I’m having feelings.