There's More than One way to Reunion

My parents divorced in 1955, and my mother and I relocated to Memphis, TN from El Paso, TX.  My father stayed in his hometown and remarried a few weeks after the ink was dry on the divorce papers.

l-r. Uncle Bill, Dad

His communication with me was sporadic for several years, and then, for reasons known only to him, stopped altogether around 1963.  His mother and his older brother, my Uncle Bill, continued to stay in touch with us, and I would occasionally write my dad a letter and send it to Uncle Bill who would take care to forward it.  But my father stayed incommunicado.

I graduated from high school, worked my way through college, got married, buried my mother, and had two children all without any acknowledgment from my dad.  When my first son was born, I told my husband I was thinking about trying to let my dad know.  My husband's wise counsel was I could do what I wanted, but I would be unhappy either way.  I decided he was right, so I did nothing.

Uncle Bill would occasionally tell me about visiting with my dad, and at one point, I guess I told him I didn't want to hear any more about him. Uncle Bill complied for several years, but sometime in the early 1980s, he told me he had seen my dad, and that he looked well.  (By this time, my dad and wife #2 were also divorced.)  He acknowledged he was going against my wishes to tell me that, but he thought I should know.  After so many years, I guess I had buried the hurt and I responded that I was OK with that, but I would never seek my dad out, and if he ever wanted to talk to me again, he would have to make the first move.  I knew that was a low risk and I had no expectation whatsoever of ever seeing the man that had fathered me.

Then...on Christmas Eve in 1987,  I got the shock of my life.  My phone rang about 9 pm, and after 32 years, I found myself having an extremely tense and awkward conversation with my father. One thing I didn't anticipate was how angry his call would make me. I'll spare the details, but after about 15 minutes, we hung up. I had offered to write him a letter, once the busy-ness of the holidays was past, and share information with him about myself.

I did write that letter, and he called me when he received it, and our conversation went somewhat more smoothly, although still awkward, given that we were essentially two strangers.  Going forward from that, he wrote me a letter every week for several years, and eventually got on a schedule of calling me every Sunday morning promptly at 9 am. He worked hard to earn my trust. We began visiting one another traveling from Arizona to Virginia, and vice versa.  While we could not regain the time we had lost, we did form a strong bond, and I'm grateful that I could muster the forgiveness needed to make that happen.

In the process of that reunion, I gained 3 half-brothers and 2 half-sisters, all of whom apparently knew of me, and they welcomed me.

2002-That's me on the right with 4 of my 5 half-sibs. 

l-r. My dad and me; Uncle Bill and Anita; Nana.  Circa 1954.

In 1995, my Uncle Bill passed away.  My dad had made several trips to El Paso to see him while he was ill, and to offer help to Uncle Bill's only daughter, Anita.  As very young children, Anita and I had been cared for by our grandmother but Anita was 4 years older than I, and we'd never been in contact as we grew up.  I traveled to El Paso to attend the funeral, and Anita and I established a lasting friendship.

Anita on the left and me, circa 2006.

Anita is truly the family historian for my ancestors on that side, having grown up in El Paso, and knowing a lot of the family lore and legend.  She's been the primary custodian of papers and photographs which she has shared generously with me.





When my dad turned 80, his children in Arizona arranged a surprise birthday party for him, and Anita flew to Arizona to attend the party with me and my family.   This was the first time my own two teenage kids would meet their aunts and uncles and many cousins from this side of the family.  Anita knew them, but had not seen them since they were children.  By this time, my dad and I were on solid ground, and this was a very happy occasion.

Anita and I have more than once returned to Arizona to visit with our relatives there, and we always celebrate with lots of homemade Mexican food and an all day party at my brother's home with as much local family as possible.  It's a reunion every time we visit.  I am so grateful to have these connections that I grew up thinking were lost to me.