Inspired and challenged by the difficulty of finding my mother, Judy took me on with tremendous zeal and caring. She ran numerous searches for possible siblings to my mother and managed to find four children (including Josephine), born to a woman named Johanna in Co. Wexford. One young sister died early from meningitis, but there were two males, James and Michael, who might be easier to locate. Armed with new names and dates of birth, I added to my growing list of Internet genealogical board postings. A few months later, to my surprise, I had a hit on one. Two sisters in Manchester, UK posted me saying, 'We believe the James you're looking for is our mother's cousin.' A few hurried posts later, I was in touch with this James' granddaughter, Kelly, by e-mail in May 2000.

As we continued to compare details, we became more and more sure we had a match, and Kelly promised she'd have her grandfather write through her. Soon I had an e-mail stating that although James was sure I was talking about his sister, which would make me his niece, up until then he was unaware he even had a sister! Over the course of some months, my Uncle Jimmy was able to explain the basic fragmentation of his family. The eldest of the four children born in Wexford, Jimmy was brought up more or less by maternal great uncles. He saw his mother infrequently and in 1934, not long after my mother's birth, she left for England, where she married and had an additional seven children. Jimmy stated he had only met these half-siblings twice at funerals and he had always cautiously been explained to them as an "uncle." Johanna never allowed the two sets of children to know any more than that.

My Uncle Jimmy had married young to a local Wexford woman, Elizabeth, and they had had an extraordinarily happy life together, married fifty-five years and, as granddaughter Kelly put it, "Still like love-struck teenagers." He and Elizabeth had one son, Jim, and just granddaughter Kelly as well as two step grandchildren. Sadly, his wife Elizabeth passed away in late November 2001. But Jimmy now had a new mission to ease his grief — aiding me in the search for his sister and other missing brother, Michael.

Between the ever helpful Judy in London and my Uncle Jimmy in Manchester, we ran checks of marriages in the UK, thinking perhaps my mother had come to the UK from Ireland after 1961. Jimmy knew many women of his generation with good sewing machinist skills who were able to find work in the numerous UK textile factories and mills. We felt this might be a likely destination for her with her training background. Judy had run UK marriage checks for me some two years before, but although there were some reasonably close entries, we were unable to match my mother's exact date of birth with any of them. However, having run them again, one showed up as a Josephine born 1940 who had married in 1966. My Uncle Jimmy thought this one should be written to, regardless of the mismatch in year of birth. His plan was to send oblique letters to a few of the close matches and see if anyone responded. He included some information about my mother's background that only she would know and sat back and waited.

Less than a week after his mailing, a woman called who matched all of the details Uncle Jimmy provided, except for year of birth. As Jimmy went through a list of questions, she seemed to become more and more agitated, and finally begged off. Uncle Jimmy was perplexed, but gave it a week and decided to try phoning her this time. She became more skittish and finally said she couldn't be the right one and besides, she had family of her own to consider.

We all took a step back to compare notes and decided Uncle Jimmy would try writing to her. By this time, he had managed to obtain an early photo of his mother, my grandmother, Johanna. It was taken in 1932 with her sister, one of her uncles, and an unknown gent in Manchester. In his letter to Josephine, he stated he had copies of the photo and would gladly send her one. The reply he received was quick and curt. She wanted nothing to do with any of it and continued to claim he had the wrong woman. But between Jimmy, Judy and me, we were nearly 100% sure it was her. A private investigator based in Dublin who had also been assisting me reviewed what we had and stated he thought we had the right woman.

I was in a quandary — if this woman wanted nothing to do with her brother, whom we all felt was a much safer and less threatening contact than me — what was I to do?

The general consensus was to let things lay for some time. Perhaps Josephine would have a change of heart. Meanwhile, we did some background work to help ascertain for sure it was her and to see if we could find another avenue of approach. Judy and I learned from her marriage certificate that Josephine lived at a certain address in Wiltshire in 1966. Through various online directories, we found the owner of this rooming house still at the same address. Judy called him with some trepidation, simply stating she was helping a friend in the States with some genealogical research. Our man in Wiltshire, from Co. Sligo originally, was more than happy to help and swore he would do so discreetly. Turns out he not only remembered and knew my mother, but still saw her regularly about town and at Mass. He would see what he could learn and get back to Judy. In early November 2001, Judy went to Ireland to visit an ailing brother and several of her other siblings. When she returned to London, there was a message waiting from our Wiltshire contact to call her immediately. Turns out this fellow ran into my mother's husband and basically used Judy's line: "A woman in London is helping a woman in the US search for relations." Josephine's husband's reply was stunning: "Why, I wonder if that's my wife's daughter — she gave up a baby before she left Ireland"! Phone numbers were exchanged and the husband, Les, told our man to have Judy call him.

Judy phoned Les the next day and was able to confirm a number of details. Yes, Josephine had told him about me, she never had any other children, and he was actually her second husband. The first had died some six years ago and she then married Les, who bore the same last name as her first husband, Harold — although they are no relation! Josephine was out the day Les and Judy spoke, but Les made Judy promise to call the next day. She did and spoke at some length with Josephine, my mother.

On Wednesday, November 21, 2001, I was sound asleep. My then-boyfriend, John, and his daughter Rachel were up visiting for the Thanksgiving holiday and we had planned to go to New York City that day to see Ground Zero. At 6:30 a.m., the phone rang. I had no phone in my bedroom, but I could hear it ringing in the computer room/guest room across the hall, where Rachel slept. Evidently, she also heard it and stumbled out into the hallway, confused and no doubt disoriented. I was racing downstairs to pick it up when, of course, it stopped. My caller ID indicated it was "unavailable," and since I don't usually get phone calls from salespeople at that ungodly hour, I knew it was an international call. I quickly checked my voice-mail and there was a message from Judy saying, "Mari, call me at work — I have great news for you." I had no sooner hung up and was busy scribbling her number on a napkin, when the phone rang again. It was Judy again. Breathlessly, she told me she had spoken to my mother not ten minutes ago. She said she was wonderful, filled me in on some details such as her two marriages, and told me she wanted me to call her. I already had her address and phone number from our prior research and it was all I could do not to hit John in the head with the phone while I excitedly listened to Judy, sitting on the bed.

I ran downstairs to fix a pot of coffee. By this point, John, Rachel and my daughter Jessica were all up. My son Alex was missing all the excitement as he had spent the night at a friend's. After gulping down some steaming java, I nervously tried dialing Josephine's number. Judy had said it took a while for her to answer when she rang, so I let it ring a good twenty times before giving up. Since I got no answer, I decided to try my Uncle Jimmy to tell him the good news. I got him right away and he was elated, although not surprised, as Judy had filled him in on everything up until her conversation with Josephine on Wednesday. The anniversary of my Aunt Elizabeth's passing was that coming weekend, so I promised to let Jimmy know after that how everything had gone.

With John and the girls listening in the background, I moved myself to the kitchen to try Josephine a second time. This time the phone was picked up on the second ring. Once I heard her "Hello?" I blurted out, "Josephine...it's Mari!" From there on, it was as if we had been speaking to each other every week for the last forty years! She was so warm and loving and personable on the phone, I couldn't believe my good fortune. I had expected the worst — I truly believed she had put her past behind her and wanted no more to do with it, including me. But here was this sweet woman telling me how much she missed me, thought of me every day, and loved me. I was overwhelmed. We both were, but remarkably composed somehow. Her husband Les was sitting beside her on the sofa and she told me how good he was to her and what a lovely life they had. I was so happy for her. We shared just a few brief details, but rang off with me promising to send photos and my address and phone number. It was a short but incredibly sweet conversation and I will never forget it. She asked if I had received certain things she had sent with me when I left for the U.S. in 1961: a little prayer book, gold chain, a doll and some baby clothes. All had been kept for me, except the chain (which I fear may have been broken early on and put away by my adoptive mother). The doll occupies a very special place in my house and has been freshened up recently, with newly painted features and a new head of hair. But she still wears the pretty dress my natural mother stitched herself. She is evidently quite good at sewing, smocking and embroidery, a trait I share with her.

After our first conversation, we decided to go on with our trip to New York. It somehow seemed even more fitting — it was almost forty years to the day (December 1) after my arrival in the U.S. I don't remember my feet ever touching the New York City sidewalks, and as we first viewed the destruction left at the World Trade Center plaza, I quietly thanked God that I was able to stand there alive and well, knowing my first mother was also still alive and well and that we had been reunited. It was an overwhelming sense of peace and healing. I also thought about how various wonderful people like Judy Campbell and able spirit guides like my deceased adoptive father and Aunt Elizabeth, had no doubt got me to this place. Never underestimate the power of angels — both those living and those who have passed on.

I am sure much more will be added to this spot as I continue to develop a relationship with the woman who gave birth to me, who had sacrificed so much and never let a day go by without thinking about me. Not all stories have a happy ending, and I never expected that this one would. But through some miracle, it has and I am eternally grateful to the many people who have helped get me here.

Thanksgiving Day was very special as my adoptive mother, John, the kids and I sat around the table. My mother asked us all to talk a little bit about what we were thankful for during grace. When it came my turn, I said, "I am thankful for family — the family who made us and the family who shaped us." I can't really say it any more eloquently than that. Families take so many shapes and forms these days. I have so many good, wonderful people in my life that I consider 'family', yet none are related to me by blood. They respect my humanity and my right to know who I am without it ever compromising the relationships we have. It should be so: no relationship built on honesty and love can ever been shaken or destroyed by the introduction of new relationships or the rekindling of old ones.

I continue to live for my children and me, and life is good. I know with certainty now that I am a survivor, as is my natural mother and countless generations before us. Whether those skills were inherent at birth or learned from the environment my adoptive parents provided makes no difference. In the words of Judy Collins, "I've looked at life from both sides now" and am stronger for it. I no longer fear loss: those I loved, like my adoptive father who passed away in 1990, and Kerry, I have met or will one day meet again.

Losing Alan was a tragedy only in that it was a selfish act of cowardice and a waste of human life. Losing possessions, position, and money-all are superficial and can be survived. I urge every adopted person and birthparent to complete his or her own self growth and self understanding before embarking on any serious search. All of us have the right to knowledge of our birth heritage, the right to our original birth documents, just as any non-adopted adult would. But before taking that knowledge a step further and initiating that all-important contact, learn first: Who am I, really? It will make your adoption search journey that much more meaningful and special and will keep unreal expectations in check. What I have been blessed with at the end of what has been a very long and frustrating search is nothing short of a miracle. It doesn't always turn out that way, but I urge everyone to never give up hope.

Carpe diem.

[Back to Top]