The week started out so well with that wonderful Yasuragi Spa which in retrospective was very lucky. On Tuesday I had a phonecall that said O, my Dad, was on his way to hospital in ambulance. I had to immediately take care of arranging for my mother to come to a short time home since she has Alzheimer and can't stay at home by herself. So I contacted the municipality who arranged a place to the day after. My sister H, took her home over night and I fetched Mom the following morning. Luckily I had vacation so I had time to do it. We went home to Mom's and O's home to pack some things and go through the fridge and the mail which took a couple of hours since they hadn't been able to do that. Mom can't and O had been ill for a while and hadn't the strength. Then we went to the short time home where she's been before but when we got there she said: Do I have to stay overnight here? And I said yes, you know you have. When installed in the room she became very sad and tears fell down her cheeks. I felt so guilty and so sad for her but unfortunately we cannot have her home with us. When I left she stood in the window waving for as long as she could see me. It was heartbreaking and it felt just as when the children were small and I left them at nursery and they sometimes cried.
O is still in hospital with heartfailure, water in the lungs as well as a blood clot and a bad, bad wound on the foot which is severely infected. He's on antibiotics and they have drained the lungs. I have spoken to his Doctor two times and I will continue calling. I am what you call a "difficult relative". More will follow once we know more. He will be staying at the hospital over the weekend and then we have to see what happens.
Well, I promised I would tell you how I come to meet my sister at the age of 48. The whole thing started when I was growing up in a suburb to Stockholm in the 60s. I had 2 siblings and we were a normal family except that I always felt that I didn't quite belong. There were different things, that made me wonder. Like at Christmas when I always had less gifts than my siblings, like I was abused and spanked a lot, something my siblings never had to endure. So when I turned 13, I think, it could have been a bit earlier, I found a bunch of letters in my Mom's wardrobe. You know how kids are curious and check things out. I often sat in that wardrobe talking to my friends on the phone. Anyway those letters were from a man who obviously was very much in love with her as it was love letters. Also the letters spoke about engagement and this was just a few months before I was born. The name in those letters weren't my Dad's name, the man I thought was my Father. I then once again looked at Mom's and O's wedding photo. The year on the photo they always told me was 1951 but I thought it said 1957 so I asked my grandmother when they were married and she said 1957, not knowing why I asked. Then I asked my Mom why she had love letters from a man other than O the year I was born and why they had been lying about the year they got married (which is 3 years after I was born). Finally I asked if I had another father. Her answer was no and she said I was just imagining things. I had to accept that but I never thought it was true. You can't lie to a child because the child know deep down that there is something that doesn't make sense.
When I had my first child at 21 I one evening sat together with my brother and told him about my suspicion and also told him to say nothing to Mom. That was like asking him to tell her. I know he would go home and blab to her. So shortly after I had a telephone call from Mom where she said she would come over and tell me everything. She came and had my birth certificate with her. I could then with my own eyes see that my father was a Spanish man living in Barcelona, that I was born in Stockholm and that I had his last name then. He had acknowledge me as his child.
She then told me all about him, how they met, how she fell in love with him and eventually after 2 years got pregnant with me. It then turned out that he was married in Spain but since he worked in the travel business they could meet all over Europe which was the reason she never suspected anything. She too was in the travel business as guide on buses. She said he was a very nice man, a gentleman, very generous and very much in love with her (as I could read myself in the letters). But there were no future for them since he couldn't leave his wife and children in Spain so when Mom met my Dad she stopped writing him and later moved and never gave him the new address. This was in the 50s and it wasn't easy to be an unmarried mother and to meet a man willing to take on a child which wasn't his. I wasn't adopted, then, by Dad but they gave me his last name so I at least had the same last name as my siblings.
Although I deep down knew I had another father it still was a chock to finally have a name and a photo of him. Now started my search to find him....... which I will tell you about another day :-)
O is still in hospital with heartfailure, water in the lungs as well as a blood clot and a bad, bad wound on the foot which is severely infected. He's on antibiotics and they have drained the lungs. I have spoken to his Doctor two times and I will continue calling. I am what you call a "difficult relative". More will follow once we know more. He will be staying at the hospital over the weekend and then we have to see what happens.
Well, I promised I would tell you how I come to meet my sister at the age of 48. The whole thing started when I was growing up in a suburb to Stockholm in the 60s. I had 2 siblings and we were a normal family except that I always felt that I didn't quite belong. There were different things, that made me wonder. Like at Christmas when I always had less gifts than my siblings, like I was abused and spanked a lot, something my siblings never had to endure. So when I turned 13, I think, it could have been a bit earlier, I found a bunch of letters in my Mom's wardrobe. You know how kids are curious and check things out. I often sat in that wardrobe talking to my friends on the phone. Anyway those letters were from a man who obviously was very much in love with her as it was love letters. Also the letters spoke about engagement and this was just a few months before I was born. The name in those letters weren't my Dad's name, the man I thought was my Father. I then once again looked at Mom's and O's wedding photo. The year on the photo they always told me was 1951 but I thought it said 1957 so I asked my grandmother when they were married and she said 1957, not knowing why I asked. Then I asked my Mom why she had love letters from a man other than O the year I was born and why they had been lying about the year they got married (which is 3 years after I was born). Finally I asked if I had another father. Her answer was no and she said I was just imagining things. I had to accept that but I never thought it was true. You can't lie to a child because the child know deep down that there is something that doesn't make sense.
When I had my first child at 21 I one evening sat together with my brother and told him about my suspicion and also told him to say nothing to Mom. That was like asking him to tell her. I know he would go home and blab to her. So shortly after I had a telephone call from Mom where she said she would come over and tell me everything. She came and had my birth certificate with her. I could then with my own eyes see that my father was a Spanish man living in Barcelona, that I was born in Stockholm and that I had his last name then. He had acknowledge me as his child.
She then told me all about him, how they met, how she fell in love with him and eventually after 2 years got pregnant with me. It then turned out that he was married in Spain but since he worked in the travel business they could meet all over Europe which was the reason she never suspected anything. She too was in the travel business as guide on buses. She said he was a very nice man, a gentleman, very generous and very much in love with her (as I could read myself in the letters). But there were no future for them since he couldn't leave his wife and children in Spain so when Mom met my Dad she stopped writing him and later moved and never gave him the new address. This was in the 50s and it wasn't easy to be an unmarried mother and to meet a man willing to take on a child which wasn't his. I wasn't adopted, then, by Dad but they gave me his last name so I at least had the same last name as my siblings.
Although I deep down knew I had another father it still was a chock to finally have a name and a photo of him. Now started my search to find him....... which I will tell you about another day :-)
I hope that your mom and O are doing ok.
SvaraRaderaIt's really interesting to hear your side of my grandfather's story. It's still hard for me sometimes, but I love you and I'm glad you are part of our lives!
Sandy