As the days get shorter and my seasonal community gets smaller I have been settling in with my charity crocheting by the woodstove. My ‘companion’ is Youtube videos that comfort, inspire and entertain. One of the series I enjoy is Long Lost Family. Watching an episode today I saw a man receive the information he had longed for. It was so emotional for him. He left the researcher’s room and met his wife in the waiting area. As they embraced and he whispered the words they held each other and then shared a kiss. Suddenly, I was crying and weeping for a heartache that follows me around. It only took a few minutes to remember why.
Many years ago I resumed a search I’d started in my twenties. My father had a daughter from his first brief marriage. We had met her on several occasions and then suddenly she was gone. My mother refused to speak about her and my dad seemed unwilling. When he was diagnosed with cancer in 1997 I asked him if he wanted me to find Anne. He said no because he hadn’t moved and if she had wanted to find him she could have.
I let it go through his four years of treatments, surgeries and ultimately his passing in 2001. Fast forward a few years and intensive investigation and I found her. She was thrilled. When I told my husband we both wept for me because I had so much wanted this to happen. Anne became part of my family and we stayed connected until her passing several years later. Through it all, my Doug was at my side cheering me on as I discovered and rediscovered this family link.
That’s a story on it’s own but what happened today was that in that moment witnessing the realization and sharing I was transported back to the moment I told Doug I’d found Anne. We had hugged and kissed with joyful celebration and we did it again when we finally met her face to face. What I saw in that program was a reminder of how Doug was there to share a very special moment with me. He was there through the all the searches and dead ends and the final success. He was there when I got the news. He was there when I had that first phone call with her. He was there when we stepped into her home for the first time. And he was there when I sat at her bedside saying goodbye.
It’s these moments of deep meaning that he and I shared that now feel empty without being able to remember together. What I saw was a simple hug and kiss. What it meant to my broken heart was so much more.
And I am surviving and maybe in small ways I’m thriving. But sometimes, when I least expect it, I find myself in the ache of loss.
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