Sixty Weeks to 60: Parental Love

(59 weeks)

My parents figure prominently in my story.  Adopted as a two-year-old, I have always described my adoption as “winning the parent lottery.”  My parents were, and I still hold this view today, close to perfect.  What I can admit now – without diminishing their role in my life – is that, like any of us, they were not in the least bit perfect. 

They brought their own DNA, generational culture, and life experiences into their relationships.  In thinking back on everything I’ve written in my blog since 2016, my mother would be appalled.  Don’t air your dirty laundry, I can hear her saying. My parents, born in the 1920s, were private and stoic.  

They were, however, always truthful about my adoption, and I grew up believing I was special because of it. I was “chosen.” My parents had been married close to 18 years already when I joined them. I would be their only child. While I knew that I was very important to them, I was also very aware that they were extremely important to each other, and their marriage was a priority. Which I’ve come to realize, perhaps too late, is how it should be.

I also never doubted my parents unconditional love for me – not just when I was little but for the entire part of my life that included them. The lengths to which they went to make a good life for me! There were of course the “normal” things like providing me with a private school education and all the benefits of middle-class suburban life. Although with them there was also a bit of the over-the-top wackiness.

One example was a time when I was in the fifth grade. They made plans to take me and my friend Connie, to [now Six Flags] Great Adventure in Jackson, New Jersey, which was about a 90-minute drive south.  Just as we were nearing the final stretch of the trip, traffic came to a complete standstill.  We were patient for a while, but when it appeared that things weren’t going to get better and time was of the essence to salvage the day, my dad drove over the highway median and U-turned. 

Then my mom got out a map (long before GPS) and found the quickest route to Sterling Forest, New York (which according to Google Maps is close to a 2-hour drive north from Great Adventure). No, not quite the roller coaster and log flume day we were looking forward to, but some smaller rides like paddle boats, and ultimately, I remember it as a fun day with Connie and understood the effort my parents made to create that. To fully appreciate the extent of their sacrifice, Connie and I sang songs the entire trip!

There are a lot of stories like that where they went to extremes to provide support. Long drives, late nights, impromptu meals, elaborate parties. After they retired a few hours away, they were always at the other end of the phone. Always there to listen. Rarely offering unsolicited advice and keeping judgements (mostly) to themselves.  To show my gratitude for the life they gave me, I called almost every day and visited once a month, even when it meant sacrificing my weekend plans with friends. I made more personal sacrifices managing my mom’s affairs and care at the end of her life as well. Still, I don’t feel like it was enough. 

Since they’ve been gone, I’ve tried to pay it forward, providing for my own daughter, similarly. Yet somehow I feel I’m coming up short there too.  She has absolutely no misconception that I am anywhere close to perfect.

Did you really think this wasn’t going to include a fundraiser? It’s me. Of course it is! Over the course of these 60 weeks, I am hoping to raise $6000 for the children of Mercy Home for Boys & Girls (that’s just $100 a week!). To learn more about Mercy Home and my why, please visit my fundraising page. Thank you.