(51 Weeks)
May 22, 1968, I arrived at JFK from Dublin with my guardian, Sister John Scully, a Sister of Mercy, aboard an Aer Lingus 707. I don’t remember it. I do remember the stories I’ve been told about that day.
My parents waited patiently at the International Arrival Building with their friends, who had been instrumental in connecting them with Sister John, and their daughter, now a teen, who had been adopted from the same place in Ireland as a little girl.
The first story I heard from my proud father was about how he picked me right up and I Iaid my head on his shoulder and fell asleep. “We all held our breaths, thinking you might cry as this stranger picked you up,” my mom would explain. “But you didn’t. You immediately knew you were safe with Dad.”
Sister John’s perspective was shared with me on a visit with us many years later. “You were so excited on the airplane. You wouldn’t sleep. I kept saying, ‘go sleep,’ but you wouldn’t,” she told me. “Not until they announced we were starting our decent into New York – then of course you started to fall asleep – and I had to keep you awake. ‘No! Not now.’” Very cynically, she added, “you would have fallen asleep on anyone’s shoulder.”
Perhaps. But I still like to think I felt immediately safe with my dad. Feeling that way my entire life is something I remember quite clearly.
One of the most interesting – and perhaps saddest – stories I was told about that day, was from my mother’s perspective and wasn’t shared until I was an adult. I was only a few weeks old when my parents started adoption procedures and Sister started sending them pictures of “Baby Mary.” The issue for my mom, was that the now two-year-old getting off the plane didn’t look much like the little baby in the photos.
“I saw you walk off the plane all by yourself. Holding your little suitcase in one hand and your teddy bear under the other arm and you looked so independent. I didn’t think you needed me.”
I started taking a school bus when I was in kindergarten. I remember my parents being somewhat apprehensive about that, so they first had me take the bus in the morning and would pick me up for the trip home. But then one day they were late, so I asked a teacher which bus was mine and I got on it. I told the driver my address and asked that she let me know when we got there.
When I got off the bus, my dad was waiting for me (my mom must have been at the school looking for me). I don’t remember anyone being mad. Although I can imagine how worried they were! With that I did convince them to give me that little bit of independence.
One of the best gifts my parents gave me was allowing be to be my independent self – most of the time. As any parent knows, and I understood more when I had my own daughter, there is a balance to be achieved. You give your children a little leeway and show you trust them. When they honor that trust, you give them a little more. Letting go; seeing your children as no longer needing you is hard. But, that’s how the path to responsible adulthood is paved.
My daughter turned 24 last month.
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.
