Chapter 9 - WHAT “REAL” FINALLY MEANT
My parents did not see Luna for nearly a year.
That was not a punishment schedule.
It was how long it took before Luna asked about them without immediately becoming anxious.
During that year, Mom attended individual therapy.
Dad did too, reluctantly.
He referred to his therapist as:
“The expensive stranger.”
Progress has its own accents.
They also attended an adoption-informed grandparents group recommended by Dr. Cho.
Dad hated that even more.
One evening he called.
“I learned a phrase.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
He ignored me.
“Ambiguous loss.”
I sat down.
“What about it?”
“They said some adopted kids can feel loss even in a good adoption because gaining one family doesn’t erase the first one.”
“Yes.”
“You knew that?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
I laughed.
“Dad.”
“Right.”
He caught himself.
Not my job to educate someone committed to not listening.
Progress.
Then he said:
“I think I wanted her adoption to cancel the before part.”
“So did Mom.”
“Maybe me too.”
“Why?”
“Because if she had another family in her head, I thought ours meant less.”
I waited.
“That sounds stupid.”
“It sounds scared.”
“Same thing sometimes.”
Fair.
Mom’s first contact with Luna was a letter.
Dr. Cho reviewed it with me because Mom asked.
No:
Please forgive me.
No:
Grandma misses you so much.
No:
Family should stay together.
It said:
I was wrong to make you do work the other girls were not doing. I was wrong to call you ungrateful. I was wrong to say things that made you feel you had to earn a place with us. You did not cause my behavior. I will not ask you to make me feel better about it.
Good.
Then:
I love you. I understand you may not want to see me.
Better.
Luna listened while I read.
Then asked:
“Is Grandma sad?”
“Probably.”
“Do I have to see her because she’s sad?”
“No.”
She nodded.
“Can she come to my soccer game?”
I took a breath.
“If you want.”
“Can she sit far away?”
“Yes.”
So Mom came.
Sat six rows back.
Did not approach afterward.
Luna noticed.
That mattered.
Two games later, Luna waved.
Mom waved back.
Nothing else.
Dad took longer.
His first apology became too much about himself.
Dr. Cho advised us not to give it to Luna.
He tried again.
The second was shorter.
I said you were not my real grandchild. That was cruel. You are Martin’s daughter. I understand being your grandfather is a relationship I damaged. I do not get to decide when you trust me again.
I cried when I read that.
Then got annoyed at myself because it was simply the minimum truth.
Months later, Luna agreed to lunch with both of them at a restaurant.
Neutral.
She picked pancakes.
Dad ordered coffee.
Mom brought no gift.
Smart.
Halfway through, Dad said:
“Can I ask you something?”
Luna looked at me.
I said:
“You can say no.”
She looked back at him.
“What?”
“Do you want me to call you my granddaughter?”
I almost stopped breathing.
Luna thought.
“You can.”
Dad’s eyes filled.
He did not say:
Thank God.
Did not reach for her.
Just:
“Okay.”
Then Luna added:
“But I’m still adopted.”
Dad smiled weakly.
“Yes.”
“And I have another mom.”
“Yes.”
“Two.”
“Yes.”
“Mom Anna and my first mom.”
“Yes.”
“And Dad.”
“Yes.”
Luna frowned.
“You’re making it weird.”
I laughed.
Dad did too.
That was the first time all four of us laughed in the same place after the kitchen.
Not healing completed.
A lunch.
Important difference.
On the drive home, Luna asked:
“Are they real grandparents now?”
I looked at her in the mirror.
“What do you think?”
She considered.
“Maybe practicing.”
That answer was better than anything an adult could have written.
May you like
They were practicing.
So was I.
