Are you singing the Queen song now? I always do when I hear this phrase… and in this case it may even be apt…
I’m going slightly mad. It finally happened. I’m knitting with only one needle…
I have so much to blog about, oh ever loyal bunnies of mine!
I haven’t even told you about the Feather Awards- which I didn’t win, as I’m sure you may have guessed.
I’ve been given an award by no less than 5 extraordinary bloggers.
I’m going to be speaking at the ADHASA Vaal Seminar for parents again- which I am so stoked about.
I’m baking up a storm.
AnGlug wedding plans are going swimmingly, and I still have some invitations to mail.
I haven’t had a chance to read and comment on blogs like I usually do, which I am very sad about. Please don’t think I’m lurking- especially if you’re used to me commenting on everything… I haven’t even been able to read at all, and I’m feeling very “out of the loop”. But I am determined to get back to reading and commenting the way I love to do. Thank goodness I can stay “connected” via Twitter.
But first I have to get these spinning, deafening thoughts out of my head.
Tonight, at 6:45PM, Damien finally asked.
Tonight, we decided to do a bit of a family outing since we’d had such an uber relaxing, chilled day. Chinese for supper at Zen Garden- and the irony of the name is not lost on me– and the Clash Of the Titans in 3D.
We were about to have dessert at Zen Garden after a divine supper of duck and veggies and pancakes and soup and noodles and rice, and kidding around with each other like we do. Damien said something silly and I asked my Glugster if I could head-butt Damien, who giggled maniacally and said I’d be sorry since he had such a hard head. I said I had one too, and he asked if he got his from me or from his father. I said it was entirely probable he had his father’s hard head, and a split second later he said “Speaking of my father, I think I’d like to meet him.”
He went on to say something about how its been a year since he turned 18, and I believe I answered him and said it was okay and that I’ll look for him, but I was kind of on auto pilot. I think I even asked him questions about whether he’d thought about where or how he wanted to do it. And I said he must remember that his father may not want to speak to him, especially if he hasn’t told his wife…
I’ve been trying to prepare myself for this moment for years, but my head was full of this rushing noise like I was in a decompressing airplane and all I could think was fuck no. No. I’m not ready. Please no. Fuck. Not yet. I’ve got too much to do.
I reckon I deserve an Oscar for my performance tonight bunnies. I betrayed none of my panic and fear and sadness as I spoke to my son. Not a bit. We didn’t even talk about it very long, and then we headed out to see the movie, laughing about our stack of leftovers in take away boxes.
I haven’t stopped thinking about it of course.
Now I have to find the man. I know his sister is on Facebook. And I admit was momentarily tempted to send him a message via his wife on Facebook… but I resisted. I know where his parents live, if they’re still there, so I can leave a letter for him in their mailbox…
For so long I hoped that I would be enough. That Damien’s extended family would be enough. That with everything I and we have done and tried and loved that he wouldn’t ever feel the need to look for this man. Sometimes I wish I’d told him nothing, or told him he was dead. But only sometimes, and not for a long time. I was almost starting to think it wouldn’t happen.
And I always dreamed that if he ever met his paternal family he would be dux scholar and head boy and an A student and at varsity. I hoped for a long time that if they met I could half rub their noses in his success, in what they missed out on…
I have a lot to process. I’ll try to keep you all up to date.