Reunion of Two Hearts

Friday, June 10, 1988, around seven in the evening, my life changed.

For the first time in over 42 years, I knew where my mother was. My heart was overflowing with happiness and my mind was filled with every emotion possible. I had to find a way to let her know where I was and that I wanted desperately for her to be a part of life again.

Monday a friend in Houston placed a call to Michigan to my mother's home. Later my mother told me that she never answered the phone and to this day she doesn't know why she did that particular day. But I know why. The time for the meeting of our two hearts had come.

My friend shocked her with the news of my wish to contact her and it was Wednesday before my mother called her back. She had had to go to a pay phone to make the call and then she had gotten my friend's answering machine.

When my friend called me that evening she played the recording. Oh what a thrill it was to hear my mother's voice for the first time since I was a baby.

Mother said she needed time and I understood. I knew my wanting to communicate with her after all these years had to be a shock. What I didn't know was about a promise she had made to her husband when they first married. One that she had kept all these years. That neither of them would ever bring up her past or me again. She had to work out a way that we could communicate without breaking her word. Because she was so determined to keep this promise, I loved her more. My mother was an honorable person. I was touched.

After an arrangement had been agreed upon, we wrote to each other once a month for a year. With each letter I found out more and more about this special person, my mother. I learned her likes, dislikes, favorites and in general her attitude on life. We shared so many things. I had the most unique pen pal possible

At this point, I was almost sure we'd never be able to meet face to face. It seemed near impossible. It almost broke my heart until I realized I already had more than I ever dreamed I would have. I had a relationship with mother.

My 43^rd birthday was so great. I received a beautiful bouquet of flowers at the office. The card read "I love you, Happy Birthday, Mom". My first gift and the best. She had gone to a great deal of trouble to have those flowers sent and the surprise nearly bowled me over when I got them. I even had to check with the florist to make sure I wasn't dreaming. To make sure that they really were from my mother. From Michigan. Oh, the feeling of love that overcame me. When I got home that day I took a picture of the flowers. I wanted a lasting remembrance of her gift. I still enjoying looking at that photo.

In January of 1989, I got the most memorable gift of my life. A 90-minute cassette tape. A cassette tape of my mother talking to me. Hearing her voice, listening to her reassuring me that she had never stopped thinking of me and especially had never stopped loving me, made the sun shine brightly in my heart.I listened to that tape so many times I almost had it memorized. I was so afraid I'd wear it out, but I couldn't stop listening to it. And I've never allowed anyone else to hear it either. It was my special moment with my mother that no one else had a right to share.

Time passed with our exchange of letters and I came to know my mother better. During this time we became very good friends exchanging thoughts and feelings. We told shared things in those letters, that we hadn't even told those close to us. We shared our secrets.

Then on Sunday, June 16, 1989, having just walked into the house after going to church, the phone rang. There on the other end was the voice I had heard over and over on the cassette. Her voice was deep and seemed to echo in my ears. I couldn't believe she had really called me. I was actually talking to my mother. Something I had assumed would never happen. I was standing up by the phone and before I realized it, I was sitting on the floor, with tears in my eyes and thinking my heart would explode with happiness.

Her husband had passed away the Wednesday before and she said the first thought she had after the funeral, and all the particulars had been taken care of, was to call me. The first chance she had to be alone, she called. Her promise to her husband had been kept and now she was free to open the door all the way to a more involved relationship. She said she had longed to hear my voice and to talk to me anytime she wanted. Now she could. We laughed and cried and just listened to the sound of each other's voices. I could almost feel her heartbeat. For hours after that phone call, I walked around in a daze. The impossible had occurred. I had TALKED to my mother.

The experience was so great I called her the very next day just to prove to myself that the call had been real, not just a dream. She was surprised but very happy. I don't believe she thought I would call her.

The letters didn't stop, the calls were added. At first we took turns once a week calling. As time went on, we called one another whenever the mood struck.Mom was concerned initially about what would happen if one of her grandchildren answered the phone. That obstacle was easy to overcome. I was her friend from Texas and that was all they needed to know. And we were friends. Best friends. The best friend I have ever had and the added bonus was that she was my mother. Not many people can make that claim.

In April 9f 1990 we agreed that a meeting might be possible. I suggested that I come there but wasn't sure how it could be done without arousing anyone's suspicions. We had exchanged photos by this time and it was very apparent that we favored strongly. So strongly that anyone who would see us together would automatically know there was more than a friendship between us. I looked like the younger version of her.

Mom was not ready yet to share my identity with anyone in her life and I understood. She seemed to have a great deal of trouble understanding why she couldn't just blurt it out. But then she also wasn't ready to turn her life totally upside down. I didn't blame her, not in the least. I'm not sure I could have had it been me. So our friendship was the answer. I was concerned though about the reaction of those around her when I finally got to Michigan. But I figured we'd deal with that situation when and if it arose.

Mom wanted to go see her son in upper Michigan and knew she couldn't make the drive by herself. It was a 1400-mile trip. The answer was simple. I changed my 4-day vacation to a 10 day one. We could visit to our hearts content and also I could help her drive.

Now that plans had been made a date was set. I would arrive in Michigan on Thursday, July 19 (1990).

Time suddenly drew to a halt. Each day seemed 36 hours long. I was beginning to wonder if the 19^th would ever come.

The first week of July the butterflies took over my stomach. Would my best friend and I really get along; spending so much time together? Spending 24 hours a day for 10 days could prove to be very interesting. I was so afraid I would not only lose my new best friend but that I would alienate my mother. Whew!

Panic set in first class on or about the 10^th. If it hadn't been for a very special lady I worked with I would have chunked it all and ran for the hills.

On the evening of the 18^th, I think I pictured everything that could go wrong on my trip and surprisingly I actually slept that night. But I awoke very early the next morning.

A friend took me to the airport and while we waited for my flight to leave, I changed my mind about going three times. My friend must have thought I had lost my mind. I was beginning to wonder myself.

When the boarding call was made, a very shaky woman stood up and aimed herself at the door to the plane. My friend gave me a hug and a gentle push in the right direction.

I prayed, not only for a safe flight, but also for my state of mind. How would it be for me to get off the plane in Michigan a babbling idiot?

The first leg of my journey went smooth. I even dozed some. But the changeover in Chicago about did me in. I thought that even though I was a tough country girl, I could hold my own anywhere. Wrong! That airport was bigger than most towns I had ever seen. It took me a half-hour just to go from one gate to another. The whole time thinking, what if she doesn't really like me. To go through all this and then lose all I had hoped to gain.

After I got settle in on a very small object, called a plane, really a puddle jumper, the butterflies came out of hiding in full force. Every fiber of my being was fluttering, tingling and just generally not working real well. I had already decided if our meeting did not go well, I would just live in the airport; eating scraps and sleeping in the bathroom for 10 days until my return flight.

What if I wasn't tall enough, pretty enough, nice enough? No one on this earth can imagine the wild and crazy thoughts I had in that last hour.

As the plane landed, the butterflies gave way to numbness and wondering. What should I do when I saw her? Run into her arms, walk up to her and shake hands, or just stand there before her and wait for her to make the first move?

All questions, doubts, butterflies, and numbness disappeared with the first glance I had of her standing there in the terminal. I could see a faint smile on her face and I felt drawn to this woman who had held me in her arms so many years ago. But I hesitated and lowered my eyes and walked a little further. Then I thought; "What are you waiting for? That's YOUR mother standing there waiting for YOU!" I looked up and walked straight to her. We nervously smiled at each other and the next thing I knew we were in each other's arms. Holding on for dear life. Occasionally we'd release long enough to look at one another, and then we'd go back to hugging.

I was laughing and crying; all at the same time. My life was complete. My mother was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen and here I was holding on to her. My Mother!

I'm sure that the people in the terminal thought these two women were crazy. But the rest of the world didn't matter. In fact, I didn't even notice that there were people coming and going all around us. We were together, again.

I was safe in my mother's arms again. A place I didn't want to leave. But at last my mother had the presence of mind to know we had to leave this place.

We left the airport and checked into a little motel. And still to this day, I cannot remember what all we talked about. What I do remember is the love I saw in her eyes and how difficult it was for me to stop staring at her. I kept apologizing to her for staring at her, but she would just smile. She told me she had the same trouble. For in her eyes she kept remembering the small baby she had last held in her arms in December of 1945.

The day that had started with so many doubts and fears, had ended with my being surrounded with more love than I had ever felt. That one-day removed all the pain, suffering, searching, and time it had taken for me to find her.

I wanted to climb to the highest point in the world and shout, "I'm with MY mother." I wanted to call all those people who had told me that this day would never happen and say: "HA, look at me now!" And make the call collect!

The meeting of two hearts had finally taken place. God had brought us back together after all these years!