"You can easily judge the character of a man by how he treats those who can do nothing for him. " ~James D. Miles
The answer is "Yes, of course."
The question is (and I hear it often) "Isn’t it hard for you to facilitate and witness positive reunions when your own has been less than so? Doesnt it hurt to see people wanting each other and knowing your daughter doesnt want you?" (Yes, people actually say that to me)
I would be lying if I told you it wasn’t difficult. It is indeed painful for me to bear witness to successful reunions, to be the facilitator for them, when my own is so, well, stale.
When I have a reunion experience like I did yesterday, or last month, or the month before, where everyone is so gosh darned happy and all welcome contact and they make flight arrangements or drive out immediately, or get on the phone within a matter of moments, I cannot help but compare their situations to my own. My own situation, my own reunion, my daughter who has made it clear that she doesnt want to meet, has never wanted a phone call, has never mailed me anything via USPS, has not responded to me in over six months.
Yes, it is difficult. Yes, I suppose someone else might cease this work and retreat to the emotional safety of her own heart and soul and stop throwing herself into the fire.
It is not just about me.
I seem to have a talent, gift, passion, [insert your own word here] for helping people with this stuff.
It is not just about me.
It is about all of us. All of us that were wronged, lied to, and manipulated. It is about that college girl that cries in her dorm aching for the mother she never knew. It is about that mother that watches her subsequent children enjoy a life she gave them but a life she cannot fully emotionally invest in it due to the emotional fractures caused by the life she gave away. It is about the fathers who loved the mothers and their children but were pushed aside by the mothers family and later called "dick daddies" and "sperm donors".
It is for them. I do it, no matter what pain it causes me, becuase IT IS THE RIGHT THING TO DO.
I find this strength because I firmly believe (finally) that my daughters decision is hers and all about her. she is choosing this. Not me. She needs this. Not me.
And truthfully, it doesnt hurt me that much. As Sheryl Crow says, "the first cut is the deepest" and no amount of additional pain can equal the loss of my child. The first cut deeply wounded my soul. All subsquent ones barely scratch the surface.