Sunday 27 April 2008

First meeting - with dad

I'm going to try to get back on track here, and put my own irritation on the back burner for a while.

I am glad to tell you that A met dad (and mum) before us. A had his focus firmly on me and B, but I am hardly ever around, and B was on holiday when A and his family was in the neighbourhood, so that's all there was to that. I knew of the upcoming meeting as A had sent me a couple of e-mails (all headed 'little sister') about his upcoming trip and, via me, testing the water and the family's openness towards a meeting. As well as our availability. I could only reply in the negative; not around at the specified time. Sorry. Secretly I was glad. I felt that things were in better chronological order that way.

The reports were unremarkable. What the actual feelings were is anyone's guess. Dad reported a meeting with a tall man with a tall wife and a tall son. He also said they'd talked about this and that, but nothing of great emotional importance. And why should they? A first, brief meeting limited by A having to get his family back to his hometown before sundown can hardly contain earth-shattering events. But both reported back to me per e-mail in positive, if subdued, tones.

I had the feeling that dad was relieved to get that meeting over with, he has been able to mention A in normal conversation since then. If not entirely at ease with it. I get the feeling he is testing it out a little; can he live with it? Can we live with it? Is openness better than silence?

Of course it is, but it's still a while before we reach total openness. B is still not overly enthusiastic; he labels her 'little sister' as well, and she finds it even harder to tackle than me. Her reaction, however, has been to ignore his pleas for contact as much as is possible. After all, she never was anyone's 'little sister'. And she never had the need to clarify a hierarchy in relation to me. Now there is this third person we somehow have to accommodate, and we both find it a little difficult. We're faced with this large, slightly oafish guy who resembles an overly friendly and slightly needy Labrador that gives you the paw all the time.

Hm. I said in the previous post that I was hoping I would feel more charitable towards him by this post, but it seems I don't.

Friday 18 April 2008

And so I just blurted it out

I admit it. I am no diplomat. I replied much too fast and much too curtly 'you are aware that I have a name?'. And I added insensitively that I had waited rather a long time for him to get over his initial excitement.

Of course he got hurt. I didn't intend to hurt him, but as it had taken me so long to actually tell him, and the whole thing had grown out of all proportion for me, I didn't find the best way of bringing to his attention that perhaps, just perhaps it would have been nice if he'd granted me that little bit of distance that people who don't know each other at all grant each other.

I think that is what it is. To me, he is a total stranger. Same father or not, he is not somebody I would normally meet, make friends with, have anything to do with at all. Suddenly, one day, this total stranger barged into my life, demanding to be treated as if he'd been there all along. But he hasn't been there. There is a 40+ year history that I share with sister, mum and dad -- and a dog now long gone, all sorts of friends, a long and mottled education, various more or less colourful career changes, memories of 40 years that he can never, ever be a part of. Even if I were to write the family biography at this stage, there would be a 50 year gap between him being mentioned as conceived to his reappearance...

And so I have experienced his labelling as incredibly intrusive. We haven't even met yet. And, sadly, I have no real wish to meet him. And that, my own shortcoming in this area, my inability to feel any excitement at all at having gained a brother, that is what I find sad. I find it sad because I really do understand what he has been missing for all these years. After all, I had it. And I wouldn't want to have been without it. But... this, what this adoptee talks about is just not possible. It's asking for way too much when there's half a century of not even knowing of someone's existence.

Would I have felt differently if I had at least known through my childhood that he was out there somewhere? Well, I actually think I would. And I am sure we would not have been divided by 50 years then. So -- I'm all for opennes when it comes to adoption records. And removal of shame when an unwanted pregnancy is a fact. Because now, now I feel absolutely nothing for this stranger who has been (metaphorically) peeing on the lamppost outside my building for the past year.

By the next post I hope I feel a lot more charitable towards A than I do now. Keep your fingers crossed.

Saturday 12 April 2008

And another

Just received another e-mail irritatingly headed 'little sister'. It's so fucking annoying! When is he going to get over it? When is he going to stop peeing on every lamppost in my street? What's with this damned need to mark his 'territory'??

I don't want to be his damned 'little sister'. I want him to just go away.