“More Pieces of Life’s Puzzle Obtained”
by Mary Anne Mcmillan
I received a message on social media from a cousin I had never met before. She informed me that my birth grandmother was in the hospital, in critical condition. It was. unlikely that she would survive. My cousin expressed her wish for all the cousins to attend the funeral as an opportunity for us to meet. This was the first time I would meet any relatives from my birth father’s side of the family. I was placed in foster care at 5 months old and then adopted at 6 through an open adoption. While I had some connection with my birth mom’s side of the family, I always had doubts about my biological connection to the man they claimed was my birth father. A few years ago, I took a 23andMe test and finally connected with this cousin, confirming that he was indeed my biological father.
Receiving the invitation to the funeral left me feeling overwhelmed. I couldn’t help but wonder, “How could I attend the funeral of someone I never knew? How would I feel being in a room full of strangers who are supposedly my family? What would they think of me? Would I even fit in? Where were they all these years when I was in foster care and later adopted?” Since my birth father wouldn’t be there, I questioned what it would be like for me to go without him. My mind was filled with a whirlwind of thoughts, insecurities, and emotions. A few days later, I received the news that my birth grandmother had passed away. I discussed my decision not to attend the funeral with my therapist. It simply didn’t feel right, and I knew it would have been uncomfortable for me. In the past, I hadn’t been able to attend the funerals of other members of my birth family due to work commitments, living abroad, or other circumstances. Despite this, I couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt for choosing not to go.
Adoptee guilt often goes unnoticed, arising from desires such as attending the funeral of a birth family member or spending time with that side of the family. Being adopted presents significant challenges. I have struggled with the burden of keeping the peace and concealing my emotions about missing my birth family or feeling guilty about my siblings not being adopted. Every decision I make feels like a balancing act, an attempt to satisfy various family members. It is an ongoing struggle that drains me and lingers throughout life. In this particular situation, I made this choice based on my current feelings.
A week after deciding not to attend the funeral, I asked my sister, with whom I was adopted, if she was planning on going. She shared that she wasn’t sure at the time. I shared with her my decision not to attend and explained my reasons. The next day, I woke up with a strong feeling that the Lord was urging me to go. After thinking about it, I realized that it could be a unique opportunity to meet the other side of my family, as they may never have gathered like this before. I immediately called Delta Airlines to book a bereavement fare ticket, reached out to my cousin to let her know I was coming, and contacted my sister to let her know that I would be in town for the funeral and invited her to go with me if she wanted. Although I was nervous about attending the funeral, I reasoned that since it was in Georgia where my adopted family lives, I could spend more time with them if I changed my mind about attending the service.
Atlanta Airport holds a special place in my heart as one of my favorite airports to fly into. I am convinced that every employee there is Black. Living in a predominantly white area, returning home to Atlanta always feels comforting. While walking through the airport, I couldn’t help but wonder if any of these individuals might be my long-lost family members. As I observed the diverse crowd, I silently questioned each person, “Are you my family member?” The experience felt unreal and reminded me of the children’s book “Are You My Mother?” by P. D. Eastman. In the book, a young bird searches for its mother by approaching various animals and asking, “Are you my mother?” However, even though I was hoping, none of them ended up being my family members.
The night before the funeral, I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned all night. The next morning I picked up my sister, and we went to the viewing and funeral service together.
We arrived before the rest of our family and nervously waited patiently. My sister had already met this side of the family, so she recognized them. When they arrived, I introduced myself to each of them. They were all kind and welcoming and hugged my sister and me as if they had always known us. The funeral was a beautiful tribute to my birth grandma. Afterwards, we attended the repast.
During the repast, I saw photos of several family members and several pictures of my birth father at different stages of his life. It was amazing to see him as a young boy and teenager. Being in the same room as my biological family stirred up emotions I hadn’t felt since the day before my 18th birthday, which was the last time I saw both of my birth parents. Throughout the event, I listened to numerous stories about my family and their upbringing. Some of these stories were difficult to hear, but they also brought a sense of comfort. I firmly believe that the Lord had a plan for my life. Although my journey has been challenging, I am grateful to have been adopted, while also appreciating the opportunity to know and connect with my birth family. It truly feels like the best of both worlds.
Processing grief and loss is interesting. One moment, you’re going about your life as usual, and the next, you’re consumed by tears as you process the pain and sadness. On that particular day, I somehow managed to hold back my emotions. However, when I returned home to California, the following days were filled with tears. I tend to process things slowly, so I knew that eventually, a wave of tears and emotions would come. I couldn’t even get through a therapy session without crying. I started to question how I could grieve people I never even knew. I wondered why the Lord chose to remove me from that situation and place me with another family. Many questions remain unanswered, but I am grateful for the new puzzle pieces I have acquired for my life. Although there will always be missing pieces, I treasure the new ones I gain with each passing year.
A few days after the funeral, I wrote a text message to one of my uncles to share my appreciation for his kindness towards my sister and me, and for allowing us to attend the funeral. His response deeply moved me. He said, “You are sweet for writing this, but you are FAMILY! You are supposed to be here.” I saved that message and read it often. These strangers whom I have wondered about for so long are now my family.
