Nothing's changed. I still wonder what things might have been like if I had been raised with my birth family. I still wonder if S* thinks of me in the morning on the way to work, like I think of her. I still wonder if MK* ever knew how much I loved her. And I still wonder if I'll ever stop wondering. Twenty four years of wondering tells me I'll never stop.
There has to be some way to bridge the gap between Joanna and Jade (the name my a-parents gave me and the name my first mother gave me). Joanna, who has a huge family, a loud family, a family who loves numbers; and Jade, who is some hurricane of creativity and emotion, who never really got the chance to live. Is there? Or is that just something I will have to give up on ever seeing?
The remark, "Well, I just have no idea what you're talking about. I don't get it. I guess I don't know what it feels like to be 'adopted'," was spoken to me today. My response was this: "Well, I guess I don't get it either. What's it like knowing who your parents are? What's it like not wondering where they are, who they are, and why they're not there anymore?" Stunning to silence seems to be my forte.
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