What’s the Worst Thing that Could Happen?

“Do you want the good news or the bad news first”, the woman on the other end of the line hesitantly asked me. Her name was Terri, and I think she was just as nervous as we were.  My mother, who was sitting next to me listening, nodded to me like I knew the answer. “Go ahead with the bad news first.”  I said, “I think we would like to try and leave this on a positive note.”  Terri continued, “I’m so sorry, but your grandmother unfortunately passed in 1997.”

My mom’s eyes shifted away, and I knew that although she had initially resisted this deep dive into her past, she couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed with a sense of ambiguous loss.  I was stuck in information overload at that moment and was never going to wholly understand how those words hit her emotionally, mentally or spiritually.  It has been 17 years, and I still don’t.

After the news of my grandmother, Terri then informed us that my grandfather was still alive and living in New Kent, Virginia. The sense of heaviness lifted from the room and we knew what our direction was, at last.  Terri went on to tell me that it wasn’t wise to call the birth family because you don’t want to catch people off guard. “I would send him a letter,” she said.  We spoke to Terri for another hour, scribbling down any detail we could about how to proceed.  Terri was nearly in tears, “Good luck you two, I wish you the best possible outcome!” What do you say back to a person who just handed you the keys to your past, present, and future? One thousand thank- you’s just didn’t seem enough.

While I made a flower delivery order to Terri’s office, my mom decided she would pen a letter to her birth father that evening. It was amazing to see how brave she acted. I guess she felt like she had nothing to lose. She has always been an optimist in that sense. “What’s the worst thing that could happen?”, is my mom’s motto. Whether that is a “fake it ’til you make it” trick or not, it has helped us through many dark times.  I never read the letter; even though I had come this far with my mom, I knew it was her platform and voice to ask the past 48 years worth of questions, good, bad or ugly.