When I was about 13 I used to stare at this picture. I treasured it. I hung it on my bulletin board and dreamt about what kind of life this man had and if he had any children. My mind was full of questions and of course not knowing the facts gave my imaginative mind room for creating grand illusions. Maybe he was famous in some way? Maybe he came from a really neat family? Would I ever get to meet him? What would I say? I look back and remember how my parents supported my curiosities and in fact helped me connect with him. That must have been very difficult because they had as many questions as I did. I would later learn they felt very secure and knew there were just some things I had to discover for myself. I finally was able to meet this man when I was 16. My biological father. We met outside a restaurant. My mom let me drive the mile from our house alone and I don't even think I had my license yet. We got out of our cars and stared at each other. He walked forward and hugged me and said he had been waiting for this moment since 1964 when he learned I had been adopted. I thought he was nice looking for an old guy (when you're 16, anyone over 30 is old!) and he was dressed very business-like. He said he had a gift for me and pulled it out of the trunk of his car. It was a beautifully framed picture and I treasured it because it was something tangible I could hold and it was a part of every question I ever had. As the years went by we stayed in touch and he floated in and out of my life, often while he was intoxicated. I began to think of him as a vagabond of sorts and to this day I think he may have stolen that picture from a Jack-In-The-Box or somewhere where they displayed local landmarks. He did have other children, three daughters total, including me. He died last April, but in the months before he died there was a desperate urgency to spend time with me and so I would pick him up and take him for a country drive. We went to the movies once and we always ended our visits with a quick stop at the A&W to get a rootbeer float or a milkshake. This past week the caregiver he had called me and said she had a box of pictures for me and she thought one might be of me when I was a baby. I thought about how ironic that was and felt the need to dig this picture out. Once I pick them up, they should probably all go together. It's funny how so much can depend on one little picture when you are 13.
16 comments:
Joni..I had no idea all this was part of your history. But I am glad you had the chance to know your Dad and spend time with him before he died.
At first I thought the photo was torn ...(would have been an interesting story...I have one that one of my kids tore ..and I kept)..but I just see it has been "around" and well loved!
Thanks for sharing this story with us, Joni. I'm guessing you loved him and hated him, both, and I'm glad you had the chance to meet him and spend time with him.
The box of pictures will be interesting to look through. I'll bet that one is of you, and that he took it out and looked at it often, just as you were doing with the picture you have of him.
God bless you and the rest of your week.
You were so very lucky to have such wonderfully understanding parents and I'm happy for you that you were able to meet your father and learn more about him with their blessings.
Dear Joni:
Thank you for sharing such a personal part of your life with us. You and my daughter (except for the adoption) have a bit in common; she met her dad when she was 27 for the first time. I truly believe things happen when they're supposed to.
God bless, and thanks again.
i remember you losing him last year, and can't believe that almost a year has come and gone.....he was a handsome young man there....and i can only imagine what a 13 year old can conjure up from one picture that holds a key to her past....and wonderful that your mom and dad were able to love you so much to allow you the freedom to journey down your past.....that openess is so important to put some missing pieces in their places......the openess in adoptions today is for a reason......to allow questions to hopefully be answered.
will be very interesting to hold a box of pictures from his journey....
love you dear joni,
kimberly
Joni, I don't know why, but I have tears...I remember when you met him for the first time, I can remember talking about your adoption when we were lots younger. I'm not adopted but I can remember meeting my real dad for the first time, I didn't know if I should hug him, call him dad, I just didn't know, but you to think about it Gilbert adopted me in away, I just didn't have his last name, I remember you posting your stories about you day outings with him, he treasured those moments spent with you, I can almost guarantee it. I LOVE YOU JONI.....
Love always
Nettie
This post made me very teary-eyed. I know the journey toward biological parents is rarely easy, but I'm so glad you had the opportunity to meet and know him, even if it wasn't always smooth. I hope I am as lucky one day. Thank you for sharing.
I am so sorry for your loss. Thank you for sharing that part of your life with us. It sounds like he was a bit of a lost soul, like many of the homeless folks you now minister.
It was very brave of your adopted parents to allow you to reconnect with him. God blessed you with the opportunity to know him and accept the love he was capable of providing.
My heart *sighed* for you. I have adopted my first two grandchildren from my oldest daughter when they were just babies. It has been a rough road at times. They have never met their bio dad. They have seen a few pictures, but he's not the type to be introduced to them.
Life is so full of many sorts of paths and surprises ... I hope the pictures will be ones that hold pleasent surprises and joy ~ ღ♥
What a treasure to have had this time with him. Mixed emotions, but time. My Dad died when I was 4 1/2 so you were very fortunate Joni.
Thank you for sharing this touching part of your life and I know looking at the photos will be very special :)
What a priceless picture and story of your life....... We never know how we touch lives and you will always have the peace that you touched his life ....... It was a bitter sweet story but usually that is what life is all about!
I have no idea how that must feel or must have felt. I hope that it ended in a way that you are ok with it. You are very blessed to have a set of parents that understood and supported you and your need to know things. What a great posting.
Your adopted parents loved you a lot ...only parents that know real love could know the importance of unanswered questions for youi. I am sorry for your loss, but happy you gained the knowledge you did of your father....and was there to help him at what was a difficult time no doubt. a lovely writing, that reaches out to many .
I have goosebumps from your story. Joni, I just think it is wonderful that you have built memories with your father and continue to let him be a page in your story. Your country drives and stops at A&W are tender memories....it's not always easy to have a relationship with someone when it seems less than ideal. What a wonderful soul you are. Blessings to your father's memories and to you. Thank you for such a touching post.
I reverently and gratefully savour the 'picture' that my Heart has of you, My Precious, and Dear Friend, Joni. You have just exactly that sort of Place in my Being. And this sweet insight into You enriches that Picture even more.
I love You ...
This post was so meaningful and touches my heart. Life is so full of the unexpected and it amazes me when it seems to come full circle at times. I remember that one of the first posts of yours that I read was right after he had passed away. Maybe this is partly where your compassion comes from. Your parents sound like wonderful, loving people.
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