Finding my birth parents - part 8
The next morning I was ready at 8:00 AM for a 1:00 PM meeting. I changed clothes three times, re-did my hair and fretted that I looked fat. My husband was very sweet. He kept saying “They’re going to like you no matter what you look like!” I guess I hadn’t really realized how important it was to me that they actually like me! Then I worried that they wouldn’t. I was a wreck.
One of our children had to go to a birthday party that day, so we decided that Paul would take her to the party and meet us at the restaurant. I needed him for moral support.
I arrived at the restaurant more than half an hour early. I couldn’t stand waiting at home anymore. It was a beautiful day, warm and sunny with crystal clear blue skies. I sat on a bench outside the café waiting for something I had waited 48 year for! It was a wrought iron bench and the back of it was a sort of a sculpture. The artist had depicted all the characters from the writings of Mark Twain. Tom Sawyer, Becky, Huck Finn, Aunt Polly and Indian Joe surrounded me as I sat there feeling comfort from the warm sun on my face. A woman walked by and smiled at me. She said “You look like you are sitting there with your family.” I smiled back and thought “In a few minutes, I very well may be.”
I had the advantage that my parents had told me what kind of car they were driving. Thataway Café is on the bottom corner of Greenwich Avenue. The avenue is a one way street. So as they would drive up from the exit of route 95, they would have to turn either right or left to park. From where I sat, I could see every car that entered Greenwich via that route. I had my eyes peeled!
A few minutes before 1:00, my cell phone chirped. My mother called to let me know they were running a little late because of all the holiday traffic. I told her no worries, I was sitting on a bench outside the restaurant. A second later, my husband came around the corner. Whew! My moral support was here! We sat together on the “family” bench with a tote of photographs of my children and myself at my feet, eyes on every car that came up to the bottom of the avenue.
And there it was. A blue Jeep Laredo was coming up the street! It turned right at the bottom of the avenue and just before it was out of sight I saw the woman in the passenger seat point towards me and could see she was saying “There she is!”. And then it was out of sight. The first glimpse of my mother! I was shaking!
We didn’t know where they would go to park now. So I stood looking up the avenue and Paul stood looking down. A few interminable minutes lapsed as I desperately scanned the sidewalks of Greenwich Avenue. I heard Paul say “Oh my God, Margo, look!” I turned around to see my mother running across Greenwich Avenue towards me. I ran down and she ran up and a second later this beautiful, delicate, lovely woman was in my arms. She embraced me like I’ve never been held before and I wept as she whispered “You’re beautiful”. I carefully embedded this moment into my memory so I could revisit it every day for the rest of my life.
I heard my husband say something like “Marg, you have her eyes!” and my father say “I told you she would look like [my sister]”. And the next moment I was in the arms of my tall, handsome father, crying the most joyful tears I’ve ever wept. Here it was. I met my parents. On Greenwich Avenue. And I didn’t care who bore witness to this most glorious, perfect, personal moment. All I could think was “Thank you Sweet Jesus”.
As we sat at our table in the corner in Thataway Café I was acutely aware that we were having the most personal moment of our lives in a public setting. It had to be this way because my adoptive father lives with me now in his old age. Having this transpire in front of him would have been too painful for him. And my sisters didn’t know anything about me, so their house wasn’t a good choice either since they are there a lot. So restaurant it was.
Hours passed as we sat there and told each other about our lives, but no one seemed to be bothered by it. Perhaps our waitress could sense this was an extremely personal moment. My father ordered French Onion Soup with a grilled cheese and tomato sandwich (one of my favorite combinations!!), my mother a veggie wrap, my husband some kind of fish, and me with no appetite, a Cesar salad. No one could really eat, except my husband, of course!
My father told me that he had cancer nine years earlier. He had to have a lot of surgery and of course, with any cancer, the possibility existed that he might not survive. With tears in his eyes, he told me that he prayed that he would not pass away without knowing what happened to me. It was an extremely personal, touching moment I shall never forget.
My mother sat with me, holding my incredibly sweaty hand all the while and we could not stop looking at each other. I actually apologized for staring at them so much. This was remarkable, looking at these two people who both bore resemblances to myself. They were amazing. They were lovely, sensitive, beautiful people and I prayed this moment would never end. I fell instantly in love with both my parents and it all felt right. It felt natural.
My parents are sailors. They have a sailboat that they keep in a bay at the foot of their property. I asked them if they had ever sailed to Block Island in Rhode Island, because this is where my husband and I spend our anniversary every year. It is our special place. I told them we go there every year on May 26th to celebrate our marriage. My mother said “What did you just say?” So I repeated we go there on our anniversary, May 26th every year. My birth mother looked at my birth father and together they whispered “May 26th is our anniversary.” We all had goosebumps. What else can I say?