May 25th is a monumental date. Twenty-six years ago I found the son I had relinquished in my teens. The social worker told me that I would never see him again and should tell myself he was dead. I never did that and always knew I would look for him.
I consider the search a major accomplishment of my life. I wasn’t supposed to be able to do it, but I was determined. And I succeeded against all odds. My reward was him being open to our meeting. It was delightful and amazing just to be near him.
Even after all these years, I am aware of what a phenomenal day that was and what joy he brought. And I will reach over today and touch him, just to remind me that he really is here in my life. For on this anniversary, I’m in his home. With my grandchildren. The journey-that-wasn’t-supposed-to-be flourishes.