Many readers may recall my series on the story of my adoption and reunion with my birthparents. I have a painful addition to that story to share today.
At the end of June, I was scrolling through my texts when I realized that I hadn’t heard back from my birthmother, Linda, when I wished her a “Happy Birthday” back in May. I instantly feared the worst. I knew she often struggled with her health.
Linda had never found the courage to tell anyone about me, other than her husband who had passed away in 2006. She was worried that it would get back to her daughter, who apparently had a bad temper.
I had always told Linda that I understood where she was coming from, but it made me fearful that if anything would happen to her, I’d never know. She and I hadn’t talked much on the phone in recent years, and she would only text me occasionally.
With trepidation, I looked her up on Google that morning. I was stunned to see her obituary from last April. Linda passed away just six days before my father-in-law, and her friends and family had held her celebration of life in early May.
Tears sprang to my eyes, and I could barely function before I headed home – unfortunately, I was in a public place when I found the information on my phone. I quickly texted Jack, my birth father, to see if he had heard the news and if he could talk to me soon. He and a small group of friends from college still kept in touch with Linda.
Jack called me a half hour later as I sat crying on our back deck. He told me that I wasn’t the only one who hadn’t heard much from her in recent years – neither he nor his friends had known about Linda. That brought me a bit of comfort.
I felt more comfort as the days went on. At first, I was torn wondering if I could have gone out to Boston to be with her or to at least attend her celebration of life. But I quickly realized how difficult that would have been for me, as we were caring for my father-in-law in our home during his last days at that time.
And how would I have handled not one, but two people I cared about dying at the same time? I think God did me a favor by allowing me to face things one at a time. And even if I had gone to the celebration of life, what would I have said to people when they asked how I knew Linda?
As the days went on, I took steps to heal. I donated to her hospice organization. I wrote on the funeral home’s website expressing how much I loved her. I was vague, yet the message was heartfelt.
I found the courage to listen to her first voicemail on my phone from 2015. I will hold on to it for the rest of my life.
And, finally, I realized how blessed I was to have gotten to know and even meet her years ago. She helped me learn so much about myself and opened my eyes to new things. I had nine years with her, which is more than many adopted people have with their birthmother.
I loved Linda before I even met her and got the chance to tell her that. She sacrificed so much to give me a good life.
Rest in peace, dear friend. I look forward to seeing you again someday in Heaven.
Amy Shankland is a writer and fundraising professional living in Noblesville with her husband John, two sons, two dogs, and a cat. You can reach her via email at amys@greenavenue.info.