Forgiveness.

        At one point during my reunion, my birthfather apologized to me. I was caught of guard. I had never considered that placing me for adoption was something for which he should be sorry. I wanted him to regret it, I guess, on some fucked up level- because I wanted to feel wanted. I wanted to know that my absence wasn’t as easy as he had thought it would be when he signed those papers. I wanted to matter to him, to all of them. I never really expressed my feelings to him, not totally, never in their entirety. He knew that my relinquishment and subsequent reunion had a profound affect on me, but on some level I’ve never felt like it was his burden to bear. So when he apologized to me, when he asked for my forgiveness….I was momentarily silenced.


“I have robbed you of something vital, something irreplaceable. I know that you feel like you belong with your family, and you do. Nurture is just a much a part of you as nature. But… I’ve always felt that even though they raised you, you were still mine. You are my daughter, and I have taken your biological family from you. I have robbed you of something precious. I hope that I have not hurt you too much. I am sorry.

He never uses the word regret. He never outright says that he would change it if he could. He uses a lot of phrases like “ what was best at the time,” and “thought I was making the right decision.”

 I want so desperately to understand him. He is a large man, muscular and tall. He has tan skin and a head full of wavy, thick hair. He is gruff and speaks in a gravely voice. And yet, when I see him, when I speak to him, I hear the tones of a wounded man, of a man who can never take back what he’s done, whose life has gone so far off the course that was expected of him- that he expected of himself. My adoption was not coerced, it was not forced- certainly not on the part of my birthfather, who was instrumental in my relinquishment. I know that he did it on purpose, that on the day I was born, he looked at me and made the decision to remove me from his life. I want so badly to reassure him, to soothe his pain, to tell him that I understand. Even though I don’t.

I know that I have lost something, I know that something inside of me is broken, missing…something that not even reunion can restore. And yet, my adoption has worked. I am happy, loved, cherished. But I can’t help wonder -was this how my life was meant to be? In order to gain the life I love- was I destined to lose everything?



I am hurt and angry that I was placed and my other siblings were not. I am sad that I, as his first child, was not loved and cherished and wanted. I am hurt that I feel this never ending sense of inadequacy. I hate that no matter how successful I am, no matter how many people tell me that they love me , I know that I am inherently flawed in some way, that my first parents giving me up has done something irreparable to me. And yet, there is a part of me that loves him, that cannot stand to hurt him. I could never tell him these things. He does not deserve to feel sad, to feel regret. I hear his steely resolve cracking when he speaks about relinquishing me, the pain in the cadences of his voice. I know that he will carry the weight of his choice for the rest of his life.

He was once my father. He gave me up, but he has also given me a gift. I know that I owe him one in return.


“Forgive you?” I say. “Rest easy, Paulo, there is nothing to forgive.”