Me and Aunt Dee…

Yesterday, my aunt Dee, who lives in PA in the Northern Poconos, came to visit. She and her boyfriend Ray were visiting a friend less than 2 hours away from us in Massachusetts and decided she had to go to Vermont to meet me.

That’s right, meet me for the first time in person. We have talked on the phone before, but when we met, it was like we’ve always known each other; we felt so comfortable together.

In 2014, I found my biological mother and sister, with whom I have beautiful relationships. I got my family and medical history, which was very important to me, but most of all, I could close that open circle in my heart after we hugged for the first time. It was surreal.

I never expected to find anything about my biological father’s side of the family since he didn’t even know I existed. 

It was never a priority to me to look for my biological father; finding my mother was all that mattered. Meeting my sister and cousins was the cherry on top of my 48-year-old dream.

In 2018, I got an email from my sister Jennifer. I don’t like using the word half when it comes to my siblings; I love them and am so grateful we found each other. 

We have the same blood running through our veins, and we have a lot of similarities; I don’t give a fuck if they are half or whole; they are my siblings, which means a lot after wishing for siblings with every birthday candle blown out while growing up. 

Aunt Dee is my biological father’s youngest sister by 9 years. They never lived in the same house together. My father’s family was a tragic hot mess; after their parents split up, the kids went to live with their grandmother. Later, my grandfather met someone else, and they had a child. That child was Dee. She told me yesterday that she never felt like she fit into the family growing up.

I only knew little bits and pieces about my father. He took off on his family and went to California when my youngest brother Dan was only 6 months old. Jennifer has few memories; however, our other brother’s memories aren’t good ones. Our father never kept in touch or even saw his children; that was heartbreaking to learn about.

I have never met or spoken to my other brother since he wants nothing to do with me. I respect and accept it even though my siblings say we are the most alike out of all four of us. I keeping praying maybe someday he would come around. 

Aunt Dee filled me in on what my father Tom was like as a person, not a father, husband, or brother. She said he was an entertainer and performer with a great singing voice. I have been a performer too since I was a young child.

She told me he was very funny and could light up a room. He loved to cook and was very good at it. When he moved to California, he felt like he belonged, and people loved him.

My father, Tom, died on his 50th birthday of a heart attack. Aunt Dee was the one who flew to California and took care of his memorial service in San Francisco, then arranged to have his body sent to NJ to be buried. She said she had to do it since no one else would. How tragically sad.

Getting to know Aunt Dee yesterday was something I never expected, and Marty and I enjoyed her and Ray’s company very much. The visit felt natural, and we had no trouble finding things to compare and talk about. We are both big talkers and swear like sailors. Lol!

I made some of my old stand-by dishes for lunch and mini blueberry tarts with whipped cream for dessert. Aunt Dee also loves to cook and loved my kitchen. She took inspirational photos because she wants to redo her kitchen that she hates.

I had mixed feelings when finding out more about my father, Tom. My adopted father, Russ, was my dad, who raised me and loved me. I was fortunate to have him as a dad; we were very close. I was devastated when he passed at only 61 years old of ALS in 2000.

What both of my fathers had in common was their love of cooking and good food. They were both entertaining, and my dad Russ was a funny guy and could also light up a room. 

I like to think they know each other on the other side, that Tom met Russ when he got there and thanked him for being such a good dad to me.

I am a fortunate person whose adoption story has a happy ending, which is something that doesn’t always happen. I am blessed knowing my family and medical history on both sides and to have these beautiful “new” family members who came into my life. All of those birthday wishes finally came true! 🎂

Sometimes I think back to when I had that painfully broken circle in my heart, the yearning, feeling so jealous of non-adopted people and their families; I had so many unanswered questions over the years; I still can’t believe all of those feelings went away as soon as I found out where I came from, my ancestors, and my nationalities. 

Well, now I finally know the answers to those questions, which is pretty amazing! You would never understand what this meant to me if you weren’t adopted. Most of the adopted people I have met over the years grew up feeling the same way I did. I hope some of them had a happy ending to their stories like I did.