The Letter of Faith

         My mind went haywire! I haven’t felt like this in so long. My mind was thinking a miles an hour! What was I supposed to say? Even think? I could do that straight at all. You would be in this state too if you were in my shoes.
         I had told myself that it wasn’t really anything that big, that I sure wasn’t going to find about my past that I didn’t know about. That I definitely won’t cry. But when I had obtained that letter physically in my own hands, my feelings was getting hard to control. Believe me; I tried to keep it cool.
         I grabbed an apple from my fridge and my glass of milk that I had just poured. I made my way out on to the deck to the table set out there. It was a nice sunny day. I sat down on a comfy chair under the umbrella, out of the sun, and settled down…
         And read
         ----
         I was getting excited and nervous at the exact same time every time I thought about it. I was going to be 18 in less than a month. Mom always told me when I was younger, “18, Deanne, just wait till then. Then I will help you.”
         The letter was constantly on my mind. Ever time I got to thinking about things it always came up. Couldn’t remove it, I tell you. Ever since my Mom told me about the letter, I was waiting for that 18th birthday. In my mind I was thinking and thinking constantly about it. I would plan my trip out there, my encounter with my Birth-Mom for the first time. I had everything perfect in my mind; Flawless. I thought it was so easy, like nothing would go wrong. Boy was I wrong.
         My 18th birthday came and past way too fast for me to really think much about anything. And it was okay, everything wasn’t bad. School made it difficult for me to do things in my spare time, including my party which was difficult as is, since I was in my final year. But because it was school, I tended to daydream a lot during class. Most of them haven’t changed since I was in elementary school. Except that the daydreams were more about the past in elementary school. I had learned I was adopted at an early age. So I was looking at my surroundings with exploring eyes even more than I was already. Thinking, observing and questioning. My classmates’ parents would come to the school to pick them up and for class projects, while I took a yellow school bus to school and my parents worked, not that I minded since that was how I learned my independence anyways. But I would look and observe my fellow classmates, every year, and I would compare them to their own parents. Same colour skin, same features and same voices or accents. I was lucky that my Mom looked like me. So no one really took notice that she wasn’t my blood parent. But it was strange; for me at least. Those parents are my classmates ‘real’ parents. Those parents made them, gave birth and raise their own flesh and blood. Those classmates belong to their parents. Blood related. I never knew what it was like. To be raise by parents who ‘made’ you. Don’t take me wrong, I love my Mom and Dad that raised me like no end. They mean the life to me. But I don’t have that same connection. You know? And I did this all throughout elementary and high school. At night, I would daydream about what my Birth-Mom would look like. Was she a pure native? Did she have wavy hair? Curly? Straight? What colour are her eyes? Brown; like mine? Green? Blue? How tall is she? Shorter than me? Taller? I was so curious.
         My Mom, my adoptive Mom, died three years previous of my 18th. She told me all she could of my Birth-Mom. She was native, like me, young when I was conceived, lived in the Kamloops area, have a different Father than my brothers, had a girl before me, and that she had written a letter to me. Oh, did I want that letter so bad. Mom said I could have it when I turned 18. She also promised me that she would help me find my Birth-Mom no matter what. Even though she can’t do that now, it sure won’t stop me. She prepared me well, you know…
         For Acceptance or Rejection.
         School soon got me to file those dreams and the letter away for a while. Before I knew it, it had been a month past my turning 18. Planning the party, making sure I got projects in on time, friends and homework was eating my time up quickly.
         I finally asked my Dad to give me the letter; I couldn’t wait any longer. I was given it the next day.
         Though, the night before I had obtained it, I was thinking about how my life and friends have affected me. None of which knows the feeling of separation, of not just one parent, but now both. My friends would always complain about their birth parents about being unfair and a little about how they hated them sometimes. And I all I really could think was “At least they’re your real parents.” Not trying to be mean or anything and not that I don’t love my Adoptive Parents. But I’ve always felt that loneliness all my life. I know what its like to have a Mother and a Father, but there is a big difference between us that I can never pull my mind around. DNA. Mom told me that my Birth-Mom put me up for adoption for a good reason. I agree entirely. I was happy that she did. Not that I didn’t want to be raised by her, herself. But if Mother didn’t do this, I wouldn’t have met the greatest Adoptive Parents in my life. A Mom and Dad that would do everything and anything in their power to make sure that me and my brothers I had a great and happy life. That, even though it was rough sometimes, I’d never would have met my friends in my life, current and past, if I wasn’t adopted to the Grann family. But I couldn’t help but find myself thinking sometimes, “What would it be like if I grew up in a different Adoptive family? If I was separated from my brothers? Or was raised by my Foster family? Or if Mother tried to raise me by herself? Would I be like I am now?” Maybe, maybe not. I would never know. This life is all I know really.
         I’m happy though.
         Mother made a great decision. No doubt it was hard, I’m sure, but I love her greatly for what she did.
         I ended up being very emotional.
         So when I got thinking about the reunion, I undoubtedly started crying. Just thinking about knocking on her door, her answering, I would survey here closely, she would have to be in her forties at least. I’d called her Mother, since I don’t know her name, she would look closely and her face would sweep with shock. She would call me by the name she gave me at birth and we would hug. She’d bring me inside her home and we would talk till the cows come home. If she had kids, a husband, or something by then, we would be introduced and I will be in her life once and for all…
         I would have my Mother.
         Then my Mom’s words came back into my head. “Prepare for Rejection.” So I did. Always said to myself, don’t be too shocked if she doesn’t want to see me or doesn’t want any part in my life. One step at a time.
         But now, now I had the answers in my hands. The letter was in my possession.
         I read the letter quickly through and my fear of Rejection dissipated almost completely. She’d asked for forgiveness and that hopefully she could meet me someday. I was given a book of pictures. They were from the year I was with my foster family in Kamloops. My Mother named me Faith. I knew that before, when my Mom told me I was adopted. I told myself that I wouldn’t cry, but somehow it snuck up on me. It slipped out when I was still busy reading with all my anticipation.
         In my head I couldn’t get out the fact that it was from my mother. The writing, the words, was hers.
         Just one piece, as small as it was, I had a part of her.
         Her love.
         The one thing I had Craved for, Yearned for, Screamed for.
         I now had.
         ----
         I originally wrote the very first draft of this story in May 25, 2009 at 10:30 pm ending on 11:21 pm.
         With editing this presently and in the future, even with a finished product, and even with a reunion at hand, my heart will always pull and stretch, just waiting...
         Just like before when I was waiting for the letter of my Mother’s baby girl…
         The letter of Faith.