Note: Adopted people have two fathers: the original and the adoptive. On Father’s Day I thought about Giovanni Cecchini, the original, all day. Lately, as I massively declutter, I’ve come across albums with photos of my original father and me the few times we met. I’ve come to realize that Giovanni, my original father, did the best he could.
The stated mission of my memoir The Goodbye Baby: Adoptee Diaries is to “let the past be the past.” In my concluding essays, I suggested that “bygones should be bygones.” Since the publication of The Goodbye Baby, I’ve had second thoughts about those “bygones.” In the case of understanding ones adoption, the “bygones” adage may not be entirely true. History has been coming back to me, and I’m seeing things differently.
During this season of Father’s Day and the upcoming Summer Solstice, I’m thinking a lot about Giovanni Cecchini, my birth father. These are not comfortable thoughts, but rather regrets and self-recriminations. My birth father and I were never really together, as WWII was raging when I was a toddler. He was always out at sea, and the ill-fated marriage between Giovanni and my birth mother Velma was unraveling even as it was just beginning.
At age five, I was adopted by new parents. My adoptive father Richard, until his death a decade ago, was a major influence throughout my life. A professor of guidance and counseling at the University of Virginia, he was my advocate and hero. I deeply admired him. Giovanni was a shadowy background player, someone I saw just a few times in my life
The occasions I saw that original Dad, I was so full of hurt and resentment that I blew it. After we’d made contact (I was 40; he was 75), I accompanied Giovanni to his birthplace, San Martino Sulla Marruccina, Abruzzo, Italy. We stayed with my aunt and third cousins, my own flesh and blood. I was thrilled to be in Italy, in the land of my father’s birth, and I was hoping that we could get to know each other. I expected him to be the father I’d always been missing. It became obvious that he was hoping to see the four-year-old little girl he’d left behind.
We were sitting one morning at the tiny kitchen table of Cousin Josephina and I asked, “What are your memories of my mother, of Velma?” Giovanni replied, “Well, to tell the truth, you kind of remind me of her.” Retreating into a curmudgeonly silence, he did not elaborate.
I took the remark as a slap in the face. I was hurt beyond words. Father/daughter interactions went downhill from there. The Italian cousins were delightful. It was wonderful meeting them, but the father I’d hoped to bond with eluded me. He put it this way. “Too much water under the bridge.” I did not see him after our trip to the old country and he passed away a few years later.
In retrospect, I would change that moment at the kitchen table in Abruzzi. I might have changed the subject, been more open and loving, transcended my “poor little me” attitude. And if only I had. In the case of these fragile reunions with birth parents, there may not be second chances. A saving grace is the relationship I have with Giovanni’s second wife Margaret. Family members, no matter how distant or difficult, are to be cherished.
(This post was originally issued in 2013.)
Your feedback in invited. Please comment, and join Elaine on alternate Mondays for reflections on life as seen through adoption-colored glasses.
Don't We Look Alike? said:
Elaine, what a touching and heartfelt story this is. You are such a generous writer and understand yourself better than most people do.
You are so kind, thank you. I have found writing to be therapeutic, and I always learn something new about myself. If it weren’t for wonderful supports such as yourself, it wouldn’t be nearly as worth it, so… thank you for your support. It means the world to me.
Don't We Look Alike? said:
While my issues are different, I too have found writing to be therapeutic. We all must support each other in this world!
Elaine, you have such courage to explore into your past. I’m sure you will never regret it. Have you read ‘The Chaperone’? Images of it flashed in my mind as I read your post. I think you might really connect with the main character.
I have not read that work, but it has been added to my list! I have been reading so many books lately, all of which I take away a new appreciation for life. Thank you kindly for the recommendation.
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Great story. I wonder what, if anything, we adoptees could say to our biological parents to help them open up to us? It seems that sometimes, they “move on” by burying the past. Of course, WE can never bury the past, because that past is US.
Anyhow- I’d love any suggestions for getting them to open up.
“The Dad I Scarcely Knew | The Goodbye Baby” ended up
being a great blog post and therefore I ended up being extremely pleased to read the article.
It is often only in retrospect that we gain wisdom. But that’s better than never gaining it at all. Thanks for being a reader!
It seems you truly know quite a lot related
to this particular subject matter and it exhibits throughout
this excellent posting, called “The Dad I Scarcely Knew | The Goodbye Baby”.
It seems that the parent/child becomes more challenging as we come up against life. Even if the parent becomes a grandparent and the child, a man or woman who assumes that they have the best view of how things really are. Thanks for your feedback.