As we rang in 2021, hopes were rising due to the vaccine being rolled out, the fact that a new U.S. President would be sworn in, the idea that COVID19 might become a thing of the past, and the majority of the world just wanting 2020 to end. However, shortly after January 1, 2021 travel and lockdowns around the world became only stricter with the new variants of COVID19 emerging; all bringing 2021 into question and if it would actually usher in the end of COVID19 and the unique and extremely difficult challenges we’ve been facing.
2020 for me, as many readers may know, was a tumultuous year with, just to name a few things, the confirmation through DNA with my Korean father, a paternal lawsuit filed and won, and his passing. I have a hard time just calling him “my father,” as I legally have two fathers. However, only one of them (my adoptive father, whom I hate to give that title) truly feels like my father, even though my other father actually created me.
Feeding into that thought process; now imagine mourning this man who created you, without ever intrinsically knowing him. I’ve seen him from afar, and met him up close whilst hidden behind a mask, sunglasses, and a hat. However, I do not know him and now I never will. This man who created me, who knew my mother’s identity, and who abandoned me twice is still someone I have had to mourn. It’s not easy to describe nor for an outsider to understand.
Those around me tried to, and would, comfort me with words such as: “He wasn’t your real father…” or “Just think of your immediate family and be thankful.” The list goes on of inappropriate words meant to be of comfort for someone who has just lost their father.
In reality, for an adoptee, or any child, who has been estranged from their parent, losing them is not something you should or can just forget about or carelessly disregard. This person is still your parent who brought you into this world, and you have the right and even the need to mourn that loss. It may not be the same feeling of loss or grieving you may go through if you knew them your entire lifetime and built good memories with them. Maybe that is what makes the loss even greater, because you don’t have that foundation of good memories, or any memories for that matter, to carry you through the weight of the loss and pain you feel at that moment – it’s just emptiness and a deep sense of despair as you think about and wish for it to have been different. Just as 2020 had started with the hope of being only steps away from knowing whom my mother is and confirming whom my father was, it ended with the hopelessness of my father’s family secret being scattered under a tree in a fancy park in Seoul.