An Open Letter To My Birth Father

As I sit staring at a blank page, I can’t settle my mind to begin a sentence. There are so many things I wish I could say, but honestly don’t want to say. The bitterness and mistrust try to roar its ugly head and then anger arises.

This week I went to the town just south of us, which in reality is only about 10 minutes away. This is where I grew up. Where you grew up too. We lived most of my life about 10 minutes from one another and still do. I just live the other direction now.

It’s funny because in my daily life I am never afraid to run into you. Walking through a store, eating at a restaurant, going about daily life. But this week when I went into “our town” I felt uneasy. I had a pit in the bottom of my stomach and couldn’t figure out why. Then, I realized as I was having breakfast with my son in a small hole in the wall country place, I knew what was wrong. That pit in my stomach was fear. Fear that you would walk through the door and I would have nowhere to go. Fear that you would meet him, my son. Fear that I would have to face you again. I rushed us out of there as quickly as I could and we stumbled through the rest of our morning before I could get us back home.

The waves of grief come and go. The anger and “why’s” seem to be less than more, but today those thoughts surged like electricity in my veins. I hate that feeling. I wish it wasn’t something I had to face or experience, but the truth is, this is my life. You are part of me, whether I like that or not. You are part of my DNA. I pray for you. That you have found peace. Peace outside of the drugs. The lies. The darkness that looms over you. I pray you find healing. I pray I continue to find healing.

I hear the adoption community talk about the grief cycle for birth parents, but I don’t hear them talk about it nearly as much for adoptees. Grief comes in waves. Crashing in when you least expect in. Right now, that grief has me longing for tomorrow when that pain will hopefully be a little weaker.

Blog written by: Mallory Fogas, Partial Adoptee and Owner of Arrow + Root


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