"my thoughts on my adoption now"

Image Source: M-Productions on iStock.com

Over the past several months, I’ve received a few emails from Ancestry, urging me to renew my membership or promoting deals on their website. When my brother and I first did the Ancestry kits, our main goal was to see if we could connect with any biological relatives, especially our biological parents. As Ancestry grew and added more features, we were able to learn more about our ethnic background. However, we still weren’t able to connect with any biological family members—aside from a few and very distant, possible relatives. Because of this, I eventually canceled my membership and stopped paying much attention to the emails encouraging me to renew.

(Please note, I’m only sharing my personal experience with Ancestry. As someone adopted from Ukraine, it’s not surprising that our biological family members aren’t on the site. I believe if you were born in the United States, you’d have a better chance of connecting with newly discovered biological relatives, as my mom did. Ancestry is a fascinating platform, and I’d still recommend it if you’re curious about your DNA. Please don’t let my experience discourage you—I still learned some cool things, like discovering I’m 1% Italian!)

Since my mom’s passing, I’ve come to realize that I no longer feel the emotional need to search for my biological parents, older half-sibling, or any other biological family members. Of course, this could change over time, but for now, I just don’t feel the same way I once did. And that’s perfectly okay.

The day before my mom passed away, we had a deeply moving private conversation. Toward the end, I looked into her beautiful blue eyes and felt completely connected to her, as if we were whole. It was an overwhelmingly pure feeling of love, almost like a deep, forgotten hole in my heart had been filled. I still think about that moment, especially during emotionally challenging times, and I can still feel the wave of euphoria and warmth in my heart. It was such a gift and a beautiful reminder that my mom will always live in my heart.

So, when I received those emails to renew, I thought, I don’t need that anymore. I don’t need to know them. I am my mom’s daughter, and I always will be.

I’ve always been incredibly grateful to have been adopted by my parents, and with my mom’s passing, that gratitude has only deepened—both for her, my dad, and for my adoption as a whole. As I mentioned, I also realize that I no longer feel the need to search for my biological parents. It’s not because I don’t appreciate them for giving me the opportunity to be adopted by my parents, but because, in this moment, I feel whole.

If the day ever comes that I meet my biological parents, one of the first things I will do is thank them for their selflessness in giving me up for adoption. I would never have received that gift or lived the life I’ve had without my mom and dad.

Thank you, Mom.

-j🌻

"little things"

Image Source: CandyMafia

One of the first public waves of grief I experienced came soon after my mom passed away in February 2023. I was in the middle of a grocery store when I was naturally drawn to a snack on the shelf: Brach's Mellowcreme Pumpkins—one of my mom’s favorites. I immediately thought, Oh, she’s going to love this. But then, it hit me like a ton of bricks: she was no longer here. I wouldn’t be able to surprise her with treats she loved but rarely bought for herself. Tears welled up in my eyes, and an overwhelming wave of grief washed over me. I tried my best to brush the tears away and continued shopping. It was a small thing—a product on a shelf—but in that moment, it completely shattered my world.

During a later grocery run, I noticed the seasonal shelves were still stocked with fall and Halloween candy. My heart ached again when I saw Brach's Mellowcreme Pumpkins, but I purchased two bags of them in my Mom's honor. Even though I am not particularly fond of them myself, my niece loves them— they were also once a special bonding treat between her and her grandmother.

I like to think that even though she’s not here to enjoy them, she knows I thought of her and would still be surprising her if I could. I’ll forever miss the sparkle in her eyes and her dazzling smile whenever I surprised her—whether it was with treats, llama or gnome-themed items, or fuzzy aloe socks to keep her feet warm. I’ll also always miss how she’d jokingly scold me for spending money on such things, but it was always worth it just to see her smile and make her happy.

I’m sure you’ve already encountered—or will soon—little things that remind you of your loved one and tug at your heartstrings. Please know that it’s completely normal to feel sad and express those emotions, even in public, when these reminders surface. And if you don’t feel comfortable showing your emotions out in the open, I hope you have a safe space where you can fully feel and process everything you need to.

If there are things you can buy that help you feel closer to your loved one, I say go for it. Cherish the memories attached to those items. As I mentioned, I’m not particularly fond of the pumpkin candies, but every now and then, I’ll reach into the bag, grab one, and think, "To you, Mom!"

-j🌻

"say everything"

Image Source: Pexels on Pixabay.com

Regret is a common emotion after losing a loved one, especially if you didn’t get the chance to say what you truly wanted before they passed. I’ve read stories of people whose last words to their loved ones were spoken in anger during an argument or who realized too late that their final opportunity to connect was a missed phone call because life got in the way. When that person is gone, the weight of missed opportunities—or the absence of any opportunity at all—can leave you berating yourself, wishing for just one more chance to say what you feel.

I fall into this category of regretting unspoken words, particularly when it comes to my aunt—my mom’s twin sister—who passed away unexpectedly. I’ll share more about her in the "Unexpected Passings" section.

terminal illnesses:

One of the few "silver linings" of a terminal illness diagnosis is that it often gives you some sense of when a person might pass. While it doesn’t take away the pain, it provides the certainty that the end is coming—it’s just a matter of when.

With my mom, we were told that life expectancy can vary for everyone with her diagnosis. The oncologists didn’t provide an exact number, which I understood, but research indicated a general expectancy of 3-5 years with treatment. Even though I knew we were on borrowed time, it wasn’t until the final week of her life that I had the more serious, meaningful conversations with her. Some of those talks were incredibly difficult, but they were absolutely worth it, as I felt certain she knew how much I love her—and always will.

I was also honored to read her heartfelt messages from those who loved her. While it was emotional and challenging, it was rewarding to share that love with her in her final days. I fully recognize that not everyone has the chance to say what they need to, and I want to emphasize how deeply grateful and fortunate I am. This paragraph is not written with any malice or to appear smug—it’s simply my reflection on a rare and precious opportunity.

After my mom’s passing, I reflected on our conversations. While I felt at peace with most of what we discussed, a part of me couldn’t shake an uneasy feeling. I kept wondering if there was one topic I hadn’t addressed—something I knew she would have worried about after her passing (and I’ll leave it at that for now). My mind spiraled into the "what if" questions.

To pull myself out of that spiral, I decided to try a technique I’d read about in grief books, one I had also used with my aunt: speaking out loud to my mom, saying the things I wish I had said. Though my views on the afterlife are mixed, I do find comfort in imagining that my mom is still with me, listening to me. (I like to think she sometimes jokes, "Jess, I love you, but please—go to sleep already!")

It brings me peace to think that if she can see me, she knows I’m living in a way she’d be proud of, doing what I know she would want for me. Over time, I’ve let go of the "what ifs" about the things I didn’t say before she passed.

In my experience, it can be incredibly beneficial and freeing to express what you need to say, even after someone has passed. Whether it’s out loud, in a letter, or through an email, finding a way to communicate those words can bring a sense of relief.

unexpected passings:

I also used this "speaking out loud" technique with my aunt, who passed away unexpectedly in 2021.

In the waves of grief, while supporting my mom through the loss of her twin, I realized that I, too, had been robbed of the chance to say goodbye to my aunt—to let her know how much she was loved and to express my sympathy for the hardships she endured. Of course, I had told her I loved her before her passing and did my best to support her through the challenges she faced, but it still hit me hard when I realized I hadn’t been able to say goodbye or tell her one last time how much I loved her. I also regretted not reaching out when I had thought about it—just a few days before or the week leading up to her passing.

In the midst of that overwhelming regret, I began speaking out loud to my aunt. I told her everything I wished I could have said, and I’ve continued to communicate with her in various ways since then. As a result, I feel much less burdened by guilt, though a small part of me will always wish I could have done more to help her through certain hardships. Still, it brings me comfort to know that she and my mom are once again reunited.

don't wait, say everything now if you can:

I also write this entry to encourage you to say what you need to say to your loved ones now. Don’t wait, because life is unpredictable, and you never know what might come your way. We often believe we have more time than we actually do.

However, if you missed the opportunity, please don’t beat yourself up over it. I’m certain your loved one wouldn’t want you to carry that guilt. I believe they’d rather you still express what you wanted to say—whether out loud or in writing. The important thing is finding a way to get those words out, from you to them.

-j🌻