2 May

As I began to research my family tree, desperately trying to learn something about my heritage…and let me say, after a massive amount of work and lots of confusing hand drawn diagrams, I was able to trace my roots back to Germany, Ireland and Scotland to the time of the castles. Pretty amazing. I even traced family to Canada where I tracked down and “visited” an old homestead (but that is a story for another day)…I wanted nothing more than to learn about my biological mother.


I started to ask questions, dig deeper and researched the heck out of the internet. Finally, I found an address and a phone number for one of her childhood best friends! I couldn’t believe it. I psyched myself up and finally made the call. I was so nervous. Kinda like that, “hey, not sure if you know who I am or that I exist but…” phone call. She didn’t answer but I left a message with someone else in the house.


Time passed and I did not hear back right away. I thought maybe she didn’t want to talk to me. Maybe it would be another dead end. Another disappointment.


One afternoon I was sitting at my desk at work and my phone rang. It was HER!!! I couldn’t believe it. She told me she had been hoping for this phone call for years. That she knew who I was and had always hoped I would find her. And I had. We had a good long talk. She told me lots of stories about my mom. She loved animals. She was always smiling. She had a big heart. She loved her kids. She loved politics. She was kind. She was fun.


By the end of the phone call the planning of a girls’ weekend in Boston was in the works. She and the other member of their childhood trio were coming to visit.

I was so excited to meet them. For the first time in a long time I felt like I was on a path. Somehow I would be closer to my mother. I would not be able to physically touch her, see her or hear her voice…but somehow it would bring me closer to her. That by knowing them, somehow, I might know her.


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