A yes or no answer, okay? Can you do that for me?

"Hi!"
"Hi. [normal pleasantries] Sooo I have to ask a question and all I want is a yes or no answer, okay? Can you do that for me?"
"Yes."
"Okay, well, do you know if your mom ever told your sister that my mom had a baby and gave it up for adoption?"
[silence]
"Oh-my-gosh-Grace-I-am-so-sorry-I-can't-be-the-one-to-tell-you-this"
"So it is true?"
"I'm not the one who you should be talking to --"
"Give me a yes or no answer"
"Really, you need to talk to your mom."
"Say yes or no, I asked you to say yes or no to my question."
"I have no idea what you know or who told you what, and I am sorry that you found out this way but she wasn't raped."
"Thank you. I need to go to a meeting right now, and you still didn't answer my question."


I remember being on the floor when I hung up, as I had slipped to a seated position beneath my dining room window somewhere around the time she said, "Oh-my-gosh-Grace," and my husband helped me to my feet. He was looking at me and I said, "Well, it's true."


deep breath. post.





** To this day, almost three years later, she and I still have never talked openly about this phone call nor have we discussed anything pertaining to my sister. Now and again, I will allude to the fact that I am not actually the oldest grandchild, or that I am not the only girl in my family of origin. She never says anything, she freezes and just looks. I know that it makes her uncomfortable, and I revel in that. She has never apologized for the events she set in motion following this conversation which I will unpack in future blog posts.

Banana Phone on a Tuesday

Two days before Thanksgiving, when I saw that one of my brothers was calling me, I answered the phone. He doesn't often call during the work day, and when he does it's usually about something important.

We chatted for a few minutes about our little people and spouses -- the usual small talk stuff. After an uncomfortable pause, he said that there was something he wanted to run by me.

He managed to spit out, "A year and a half ago, Ann (his then fiancee, now wife) and Ashley (our cousin by way of our mother's older/oldest sister) were talking one night over a few beers. Our cousin told Ann that our mother had a baby when she was around 16 and gave it up for adoption. Well, this is what Ashley's mother told her. Do you think that this could possibly be true?"  

What ran through my head and (mostly) came out of my mouth was, "Wait, what?  No, that can't be true.  Our aunt had to be lying. How awful. Why would she say that? Oh, mom's going to be pissed. Why the heck did it take my brother a year and a half to tell me?! Holy shit. What? No, that's not true.  It had to be a different person. Ashley has another aunt by the same name. It's got to be her. Dude, you've got to talk to Ashley today and find out more about the conversation that her mother had with her. What do you mean, our mom? No way. Can't be true. Just, no way."

When we hung up, my head was reeling. Our mother couldn't possibly have made that choice -- it just didn't make sense. I mean, she's told us every secret ever about everyone in the family, usually while asking for prayers for this or that person. She's said that families shouldn't keep secrets. She's said that we have the right to know everything, good and bad. If she meant that, how could this be true? Why wouldn't she have told us about this baby? Her baby?

I wanted my brother to call Ashley as soon as possible to confirm the story before we spoke to our mom or aunt about it. I mean, I was the umpteenth person in the banana phone chain. Details might have been changed and exaggerations could have been made, right? We needed to find out if, in fact, our mother was the woman in the story, and why the hell my aunt thought it was okay to tell her daughter when my mother's own children didn't even know. Who does that?

Jeff refused to call Ashley that night because he didn't feel the urgency that I did to figure things out -- he did, after all sit on this information for more than a year, what's another day or two, or twelve? (How exactly can one sit on this kind of thing for a year and a half anyway?)

I remember being frustrated because I wanted to get to the truth, but I felt uncomfortable to be the one to make the phone calls since I wasn't told anything directly. But, heck yes, I wanted to know. Ya know? 

When I did manage to call Ashley that evening, she was in class and couldn't pick up. At the urging of my husband, I called one of her sisters who I assumed would know what Ashley knew.

And she did.



deep breath. and post.

hi.

I guess that I will start with the name of my blog. Who is Grace? Why is Grace in this? What the hell does that mean?

Okay, well, here I am Grace. I am a 30 year old woman who learned late last year that I have a half sister who is only 2 years and 8 months older than me.

(how and why are other posts for other days)

I am stuck in this -- in a place knowing that I have a sister who I am not free to search for at this time. I've always wanted a sister, needed a sister -- I wonder if somehow I've always known that she's been there?

I am stuck in this -- in a place that's raw and real and sometimes very difficult because I can't really do anything to change it right now.

I am also "Grace in this" because while life is difficult and broken, there is, in fact, grace in this, in this life. There is grace here. There are blessings here.  Dude, I have a sister!

 Also, I have the truth now.  There is so much grace is truth. Truth is grace.

There. I started.

Deep breath. And post.