I’ve been thinking about the man I was pretty sure was my birth father recently. So I Googled him a few days ago. And found his obituary, from LAST WEEK.

It pretty much hit me like a freight train that that door is now permanently closed. I was going to write one more letter to see if I could make contact with him. But that’s over.

In a nutshell, for those of you who don’t know my story, I met my birthmother exactly 30 years ago next week. I was in college. She told me on that day that she was still in contact with my birthfather. She said she’d told him I’d found her, and that he was happy about this and wanted to meet me. She gave me some non-identifying details about him and said eventually we’d meet.

That was thirty years ago. It never happened, in spite of my waiting (sometimes patiently, sometimes not), cajoling, pleading, crying, letter writing. It never happened, and she never told me his name. Through some of my own investigating I finally found a person who matched up with the non-ID information she’d given me so long ago. I wrote to him but did not hear back. I was about to try again when I Googled his death notice last week.

This is the letter I wrote to her. I haven’t mailed it yet, but I’m sharing it with all of you.

Dear Birth Mother,

Is this him? (link to obit) Of course I do not expect you to answer me. You never have. But if it IS him, then congratulations. You successfully managed to prevent us from ever meeting or knowing each other for over 30 years, until his death. That is quite an accomplishment in tenacity.

And if it isn’t him, then congratulations anyway. Because you won. YOU WON. You have finally worn me down. I’m finished. I do not have the emotional energy or resources to start searching again from scratch. I’ve come to the end of it.

I’m at the end of wishing and hoping that our relationship can work, too. I’ve pretty much let go of that.

I did notice that this man died of pancreatic cancer. So did my mother in law. Do you think that my children deserve to know if two of their biological grandparents died from the same kind of cancer? Do you think that they, and I deserve to know our family medical history?

I didn’t think so.

Adoption is so often described as a “win-win!” situation but when I look around all I see here is loss. You and I have lost decades of what could have been a good friendship. We have so much in common. You have lost out on knowing two extraordinary granddaughters who would have loved to know you. I had to prevent my older daughter on several occasions from writing to you. She really wanted to, at various points in her childhood. But I could not bear the thought of her experiencing even a fraction of the pain I’ve known during this relationship.

Maybe you don’t realize how much it hurt to have you cheerily describe the “small family reunion” that took place a dozen miles from where I live. The family reunion which I was not invited to. The family reunion at which many of the family members have no inkling of my existence.

All I can say at this point is, I hope it has been worth it for you. I hope your privacy has been worth all the loss we have all experienced – my birthfather who expressed the desire to know me thirty years ago, my children and all of their relatives, me, and most of all you. I wish you peace in your hard-fought and hard won privacy.

Sincerely,

Me

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