Paul's Heart

Life As A Dad, And A Survivor

15 Mar 2021

A Tree With No Roots


I have no problem amusing myself.  Because my health often does not allow me to remain in one position for too long of a time, I often have many “irons in the fire.”  A recent project I have started up again, is my family lineage.  My father had given me documentation just before his passing, which allowed me to trace back nearly 150 years of his side of the family.

I did not know that much about my mother’s side of the family.  In spite of having a family tree project in school, information on the paternal side of my mother’s family was sparse.  I was able to go back several generations on the maternal side.

Until recently.  A project started by a cousin on my maternal father’s side has sparked a new interest for me.  There is actually information about that part of the family that I had not known previously.  There is some information that confirmed what I did know already.

I did not get to know my maternal grandfather very long as he passed just passed my first birthday.  All I knew about him was how I was drawn to him.  Now I know why.  As his obituary shows, he loved music.  I recall hearing an actual vinyl recording of him singing “The Battle Hymn Of The Republic.”  From that point, I was hooked into music.

From church choirs to school choruses and chorales, competitions, symphony choruses, cover bands, and karaoke, I found my place in music, singing.  I did also further music studies, including guitar and piano.

Music would take a bigger part of my life, during my battle with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.

Have you ever heard a song that pops into your head, and automatically your mind takes you back to a specific time or place?  Mine used to take me back to fun memories such as an amusement park, or maybe an ice cream shop.  But because I spent so much time in a chemotherapy suite, I listened to a lot of music to get me through my treatments.  During my recovery and rehab, I listened to even more.

This is when I realized music was not only fun, but had healing potential as well.  Now, my singing also plays a pivotal role in assisting with my pulmonary rehab, a lot more fun than using the spirometer thingy I have.

But the best thing, my daughters have the appreciation of music as well.  And like me with my grandfather, they have heard me sing as well.

Anyway, it was during this search, I not only confirmed where I got my interest in music, but also shined a light on the other side of the family that I did not really know.  It was interesting and exciting.  Always looking for more grown up things to talk about with my daughters, I saw this as a good one.  And then it hit me.

With my daughters being adopted, there are moments that I have learned, extra sensitivity and attention are needed.  And this was one of those moments.  It is one thing to be adopted domestically.  There would be some glimmer of hope, if it was desired to trace and find where someone came from.  But being internationally adopted, there is a “needle in a haystack” chance of discovering this information.  My excitement could easily cause heartache, and I do not want that.

A favorite television show of mine growing up was “I Dream Of Jeannie.”  Typical story.  Someone rubs the lamp, a genie pops out… yada yada yada.  In this series however, the genie stays.  One episode had “Jeannie”, the main character, sad, because she did not know when her birthday was.  And due to that sadness, she had begun to physically fade away.  In spite of all her happiness that she had with her “master” and eventual husband, the lack of knowledge of her birthday proved powerful enough, it needed to be found.

This has always stuck in my mind with my daughters.  And up to this point, I have actually taken several steps to help them, should they ever decide that they would like to see if they could trace their past, perhaps even find their birth parents.  Research and investigations provided me with information on caregivers, foster parents, and locations.  My daughters are now aware that the information exists, should they decide that they want to go further.

And I have given them both my word, if they do decide to pursue finding their origins, I will do all in my power to help them both.  It won’t be easy.  But who knows what can happen in a decade or two?

But at this point, there is no reason to risk any kind of hurt to my daughters, with my research on my family from a geneology standpoint.  But on the family tree, they are on there, and so will their children, and so on.

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14 Mar 2021

The Day That Started It All


It is a feeling I will never forget, the day my oldest daughter was placed in my arms.  The date was already a special date for me, as it was my late grandfather’s birthday, March 14th.

The news had come just two weeks prior, that travel had been moved up by three days, meaning I would arrive in China on March 13th.  I was told, I would be meeting my daughter the next day.  Get some sleep.

Besides being a male and the obvious biological differences, I have no idea about what it is like to experience the entire birth process from start to finish.  But when asked, “how did it feel when she was placed in your arms for the first time?”, I remember responding, “like giving birth.”  Though I had no idea as I said what childbirth was like physically, emotionally, I would think the exact moment of becoming a parent, by birth or adoption, rival each other in emotion.

I knew one thing for sure, my world changed at that very moment when she looked up at me, and nothing else would matter any more.  Within five minutes, with that unconditional love I felt from her for the first time in my life, I knew that I would want to adopt again.  And two years later, along came my younger daughter.  And yes, the feelings of joy were the same.

These anniversaries that I recognize with my daughters are as important to me as their birthdays.  Even more significant this time, it is likely the last one I will get to celebrate with her in person for a while.  Each year however, I will always remember what this date means to us.

 

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13 Mar 2021

Never Give Up


***as I do with a post like this, I need to offer this disclaimer for my trolls… nothing in this post represents anything about my particular domestic situation, and any similarity is purely coincidental.  Move on.

I see these stories several times a week, “I just can’t take any more,” or “I’m done!”, referencing domestic battles with former spouses and strained relations with children, due to bitter breakups.  Actually, bitter is often an understatement.  I often find myself able to relate as an adult, but the advice I give, is from a different angle, that, as an adult child of divorce.  It is one thing to think about how the actions affect a child now, but what about their future?

The stories are all start the same way.  “At what point do you give up?”  And to be clear, these situations are not just fathers in this position, but mothers as well.  This particular begins with an introduction to how long the situation has been, and how old his child is.  Close to a decade, the child is well into the teens now, which can cause problems of its own.

He mentions the time and efforts spent in court, fighting for his rights for custody to see his child, years.  There is no mention of any other issue related to the parents (such as support or abuse).  There are hints of cooperation, but they are few and far between before they end up back in court.

And then there are the efforts the father goes to, just to see his child.  The child was moved hours away by the custodial parent.  He makes no complaints about the lengths he goes to, to continue his relationship with his child.  But along with the temperament of a moody teenager, in his situation, the mother has had influence over the child as well, in a negative way towards the father.

There are so many parents in this situation.  This could easily be their story.

Money.  Time.  Distance.  Sacrifice.  The father did it all because the child meant so much to him.  The love is unconditional.

But this does take a toll on individuals emotionally and physically.  It ends one of four ways.  The parent keeps fighting, eventually coming out the other side with an amicable relationship finally worked out.  The parent keeps fighting, until the stress is too much for the body to handle, and with the resulting poor health, succumbs.  Sometimes, the fight is too much to handle emotionally, and a parent seeks the ultimate end, tragically, no longer able to fight, no longer able to live without the child they loved and raised.

And then there is the fourth option.  He writes, “when do you say ‘I love you and am here for you always,’ then walk away, defeated and beaten?

My response to him was two words, “you don’t.”

You don’t ever give up.  As I said in my disclaimer, I am careful not to mention my personal situation with my family.  I am speaking as an adult child of divorce.

I would eventually take on his issues one by one, giving a reality check from my ACOD point of view.

“Have to travel hours because the mother moved the child.”  My father lived ten minutes away from me.

“I am constantly in court, fighting for my visitation rights.”  Join the club.  You do what you have to do to be able to see your child.

“I just can’t do it anymore.”  Wrong.  You have to.

My point to him was not one of not understanding his situation, even from an ACOD reflection, he mentioned the distance and what it “cost” him, all of the sacrifices he made.  And then I wrote to him, “whether 8 hours or 10 minutes, you don’t give up.  No matter the situation you are in, as hard as it is, find someone to lean on, someone who understands or knows what you are going through, but you never give up.  My father gave up.  He lived only ten minutes away from me.  He had fights with my mother, but he gave up.  And then I grew older.  And that is what I knew.  He gave up.”

I know there are two sides to every story.  But I lost most of my childhood, and nearly a decade of my adulthood, with feelings against my father, because he “gave up.”  Time lost, neither of us could get back.  Any words spoken of that time, may provide understanding, but would never replace what was lost.

And yes, I said I don’t refer to my own divorce, but I will say this, it is because of what I went through with my father, that I promised myself and my daughters, I would never let that happen with us.  I would never give up.

And that is exactly what I said to this other father, “you don’t” give up.  Ever.  Your child will never forget if you did.

 

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