The Plan - Chapter 5

It was perhaps my failing marriage alongside the two grandchildren I was so in love with that only served to intensify my need for belonging. I could not assuage this desire to see my dad face to face. It was long past the time where I could envision having a relationship with him. He was pushing 70. Likely crusty. Cantankerous. And I was (ahem...just a smidge over 50...a very gentle 50!). But I was too old to have these little girl fantasies about a daddy any longer.  However, over the course of 2012 I could not shake the intense need to see my father’s face and look into his eyes. See if he was real. I knew another rejection was waiting for me if I persisted. 

Then a God-thing happened.  

A God-thing, to me, is one of those occasions when no one could ever orchestrate the series of events that unfolds. Where there are just too many coincidences to actually be a coincidence.  People, timing, and so many intangible details woven intricately into past, present, and future that suddenly collide and spills out in front of you; things that you never thought or dreamed possible are suddenly before you.      

Although my dad was still weighing heavily on my mind, the end of my marriage was weighing even more heavily. I had known that summer that my marriage was over and had shared that with only one other person, my best friend Lizzy. I had sat at her kitchen table and wept. I did not know how to end a marriage. And I knew what would happen when I said those words out loud to my family and friends. I spent a good deal of my time wrestling over my decision, how to communicate it and how to deal with the realities of it. I was, in fact, just getting ready to communicate the end of my marriage to John when an old high school friend of mine messaged me from out of the blue.  David.  I had not seen or heard from him in over 34 years and in the course of catching up with each other’s lives, he asked me if my mother was still alive. My devolving relationship with Carolyn, years earlier, caused me to answer rather cryptically and I told him I didn’t know, but that my father sure was alive. I confessed that failed attempt to see my father in February - that I was terrified to see him face to face but had a great need to do so. I told him that my father was the big unresolved issue in my life and having gone through the gamut of emotions, it was currently an ache in my heart. I told him that many things had been weighing heavy on my heart for a while now. I remember his words precisely: “Hmmm.  Heavy.  Sounds sad”.  Yes.  It was indeed sad. We continued our catch-up conversation about family, marriages, kids and jobs but circled back to the issue of my dad.  I told David that for years I had held hopeful thoughts that my dad had missed me and loved me and actually wanted to know me. But that hope was now gone - it was not the reality. Nevertheless I craved that identity and desperately wanted to know where I belonged.  Knowing that we had been in such close proximity for years was bothering me.  

The next morning I received several texts from David.  

He had found my family. My dad. And my half-sisters. He had sent me links to websites and articles that were online. He told me my sister’s names. I was very shaken by this information - in part because I didn’t know what he expected me to do with it. I read this gift of information as an attempt to manipulate me and force me to meet my dad - something John had tried to do for years, and would certainly have done if he had found this information.  I reacted angrily and defensively, demanding to know what he expected me to do with this information. David, taken aback by my comments, assured me it was my information and I could do what I wanted with it. It was completely up to me. He told me that I looked like my dad.  I read the article about my one half-sister - an Agrologist (whatever that was). Then I saw a picture of the eldest half-sister.  She was a lawyer in a firm in Swift Current - just 2 hours away.  And as I looked at her picture I realized one thing.  Everyone was now an adult.  My life, to that point, had been marked by no adults being in the room when it came to critical decisions about my life.  But now, I decided - I needed to be the adult in the room. It was time to call an end to this wondering.  

It’s miraculous what a sliver of encouragement can do. No - not encouragement as much as allowing a person the freedom to set her own path without fear of criticism. A sliver of empowerment.  I mulled it all over in my head, and by the end of that afternoon of David sending me those links, a much more organized plan to meet my father was formed. A plan where I would meet my father face to face. A plan where I would speak to him. This plan also came with a new frame of mind.  It wasn’t about needing a Dad anymore. It was about knowing who I was. For instance, I had never known what nationality I was. I had previously had a cruel instance in my childhood where Grandad had led me to believe I was an Indian (Context people...that was way before the days when “First Nations” became the accepted vernacular).  And since my name was Annette, I had toyed with the idea that I might be French. That pondering about my heritage ended badly when the kids at school started to call me a 'french squaw'. My husband’s family, on the other hand, were hard core Ukranians and that culture permeated my married life.  But that wasn’t me - and they let me know it.  I am dark haired and brown eyed. My daughter had white blond hair and blue eyes and she always wondered how she could be the only one in the family with those features. I couldn’t explain it to her.  I know it sounds like a detail to some people, but it wasn’t to me. In addition to finding out my historical heritage, I thought that maybe I could find some answers as to my medical history. Not just for me, but for my children too. How many medical forms had I filled out over the years?  Dozens and dozens.  History of heart disease? Don’t know. Cancer?  Yeah... don’t know. Stroke? Nope...still don’t know.  Life expectancy? No clue. The idea that I could suddenly fill these forms out with something more definitive than a question mark was exciting to me.   

I also wondered where I got my musical ability.  Ever since I was small I had the ability to play a song on the piano that I had heard on the radio. I taught myself to play guitar. I had near perfect pitch. All my life I had been heavily involved with music in some way. It came natural to me.  But why?   

And...if I was able to find the opportunity - there was one burning question I had for my father. (OK - You can all stop guessing that question - it’s not what you might think). I wanted to know what my mother and father were thinking when they gave me a rhyming middle name! My first name was already unique - I was the only Annette I ever knew in school - but my second name...it rhymed! Hello? Who does that to a kid? I rarely told anyone my middle name because it was so embarrassing to me. I wanted answers about that.  

So I planned. I planned for the best outcome but prepared for the worst. It was November 8, 2012 and as I formulated the plan, I was to quickly learn just how perfect God’s timing is. My plan had been all along to tell my husband well before Christmas - early November at the latest - that I could no longer carry on in our marriage. After that, I knew I would plan to meet my dad face to face at the annual meeting APAS held every February. As I went on the website to identify the exact dates of the AGM, I was faced with a huge surprise. Their next annual meeting was not in February as had been typical.  Rather, it was in December. December 5th. Just under 1 month away!  Suddenly, things got very real very fast and the plan to meet my dad jumped the queue on my to-do list of life-changing events. This fast-tracking was, however, a blessing in disguise. I had very little time to stress about things or second guess myself. I knew this was going to be my chance and I wouldn’t let anything get in the way of it. I expected nothing but a rejection from this meeting.  It was only a matter of how severe the rejection would be.   

Given the high emotional stakes for me, I hardly told a soul of my plans. David knew of course as his information was the genesis of this new organized plan. And I told Lizzy. I did not tell my husband. Our declining relationship would have been counter-productive to my efforts.  He had a way of hijacking, sabotaging, and diminishing the things that meant the most to me. He routinely undermined my decisions and caused me to second guess myself.  I could not afford to have that influence play out on this decision so I never told him of my plans. Besides, if things went sideways, I didn’t need his condescension and ridicule to greet that failure.  

I was a nervous, but excited wreck as the days ticked away. Anxiety started to climb to a fever-pitch while still several weeks out. It was at this moment that I also informed my boss of what my plans were. I was distracted and jumpy at work and I felt I needed to tell him why. He was so excited for me and affirmed what a courageous step I was taking. The support he showed me gave me added courage as December 5th approached. At David’s urging I finally called a counsellor I knew. All of us in the small circle that knew of my plans were of the same mind; this was not going to end well. And who would be there to pick up the pieces when the inevitable happened?  Lizzy lived two hours away. David lived two provinces away. So I met with Sherri - who had been a social worker and counsellor for the past 17 years. She informed me that these meetings were rarely successful. She wanted to know if I was prepared for his response. That he would have an initial reaction which would likely be followed by a secondary reaction. Both of which would likely be negative.  Yes, I told her. I understood. And I was prepared for it. I fully expected it. In fact, I told her, the only best case scenario that I could imagine is that he would be polite, if not dismissive, about meeting me and perhaps we would exchange Christmas cards once a year. Seriously…that was the best outcome I could imagine. But the odds were highly stacked against me that anything good could come of my attempt other than I would have looked into his face and finally had a sense of him. I was utterly terrified.  However, with the encouragement from those two friends and a lot of prayer covering my plan, I persisted through the fear.  

I considered aborting the entire plan just days before it was to take place. He had rejected me my entire life and I knew this time would be no different. I felt extremely lonely in this step I was taking but the need to see him face to face drove me. And I knew, if I did not do this, I would regret it for the rest of my life.  Despite the bad forecast, I could not back out. 

My plan was to intercept him between one meeting and another at the hotel.  Since I knew every nook and cranny of the hotel where his meetings were being held I channeled my inner detective and decided the best place to situate myself would be in the lobby. I would be able to see him exit the meeting room he was supposed to be in for the last meeting of the day.  He would have to cross in front of me to walk to the reception that would be next on the agenda. This position also gave me full view of the elevators. I knew what he looked like but I studied those pictures over and over to make sure I would not forget in the heat of the moment. 

I also wrote and re-wrote what I wanted to say to him. Then I read and re-read it so I would not forget what I wanted to say. I made myself notes, just in case. I also made copies of photos to give him. I wanted him to have a picture of each of his grandchildren and great-grandchildren. I wanted him to know that he had another family. On the back of each picture I taped a short biography. Full name, birthdate, areas of interest and what I loved about each of my children and grandchildren - the Coles notes on each of them. I put these photos in an envelope with my business card on which I had also written my cell phone number. I was prepared to stuff that envelope in his hand or pocket if his reception was angry or dismissive and he tried to blow past me. I knew this would likely be a short meeting. And frankly - that worked for me. I was too nervous and afraid for anything more complicated or in depth.  

December 4, 2012 was a Tuesday. The day before my plan was to take place. The delegates for this annual meeting would be arriving at the hotel. I called the hotel and asked if Don Connick had checked in yet. I was told he had. I now knew that he was in the city and in the hotel. There was nothing to stand in my way except my own fear. 

And, as it turned out, the flu.

I left work early that Tuesday. My stomach was hurting and churning. I walked in the door and immediately threw up. I thought it might be just anxiety. I took some Gravol, went to bed and prayed that I was not sick. But not a half hour later John walked in the house. He was sick too. And I was crestfallen. I was sure the flu - and his complicated medical issues when he gets the flu - were going to derail my plans. I was terrified that I was going to end up spending the night in Emergency with him. I prayed. I fed him some Gravol subcutaneously and prayed some more. I texted Lizzy and asked her to pray too. I slept very little that night.  Very little.  

Wednesday, December 5, 2012 dawned and Lizzy texted me at 6:53 am.  Her message:  

“Today is the day! God promises a peace that surpasses all understanding if we trust in Him. That's what I am praying for you. Know that no matter what happens you will be okay and that you have many good friends to lean on. I love you and hope you are feeling better.”

My response: 

“I feel very safe today. Right now I feel peace and calm. I appreciate all the support”  

It was true.  I had awoke with an inexplicable peace and calm. I also felt confident. And - unbelievably, with very little sleep under my belt, I felt rested.  

John awoke feeling slightly better. No trips to Emergency were required so I went to work that day and felt the excitement mount as the hours ticked away. I had David and Lizzy on speed dial. After all, my dad could be angry. He could be a jerk. He could be upset. He could be confused. Or embarrassed. He would be stunned for sure. But I was determined I would, at the very least, be face to face with him for the first time in my life. I would finally hear his voice.   For all those years of silence, I could only conclude he was ashamed of me - I was his dirty little secret.  

I left work at a little before 5 pm. I walked the block and a half in the freezing weather, entered the hotel and found my place to sit in the lobby. I was super nervous and fidgety while I waited and at one point decided to walk past the lounge that was situated just across from the lobby. There was another exit past the lounge and I wanted to scope it out. I figured, if I was left in tears it would be a more private way to quickly escape the hotel than by the front doors. As I started to walk past the lounge, a person caught my eye. It was him - my Dad!  He was sitting in plain sight in the lounge of the hotel. I didn’t even have to look for him - he was right there - only a few feet away and in the middle of his meeting with three other people.  I did a quick about face and walked back to my seat in the foyer. I sat back and observed him - drinking in every movement - every detail.  He wore a blue blazer and would take his glasses off from time to time using his hands to gesticulate when talking. I watched how he interacted with the people at the table. And while I watched I felt my confidence and my calm grow.  Well - sort of calm - I was nearly giddy with excitement.  

When the group at his table got up to pay their tab at the bar, that’s when I made my move. I calmly walked into the lounge and waited for him to pass by.  As he did, I gently reached out, touched his arm and called him by name.  

“Excuse me Don, could I speak with you for a second?” I asked.  

He turned and looked at me - pleasant and polite - no recognition dawning on his face. The people he was with walked on without him.  

Then I said:

“Hi, it’s me - Annette.  Your daughter”  

His eyes opened wide and shock registered on his face, then recognition.  

“It’s you!” he said. 

He was...well...speechless. He stumbled over his words then gestured toward a table where we sat down. Then I told him why I was there. That I finally needed to see him face to face. That I wanted to get a sense of who he was. And to get answers to a few questions. I particularly asked why he had never contacted me after answering my letter 20 years earlier.  

“I’ve never been a brave or confident person,” he replied.  

I showed him the pictures of his grandchildren and great grandchildren and told him a little about them and then myself. 

“So, you’re successful, then” he said.  

I wasn’t sure what he meant by that and frankly, I felt defensive at that comment. I was no millionaire or CEO but I considered myself successful in many ways and said yes. He told me about his daughters and grandchildren. His eyes brimmed with tears the entire time. His face was so smooth and his demeanor so gentle. His voice was a soft baritone.  His hands were rough and callused but so warm, grasping mine and holding them across the table the entire time. Finally I decided, it was time to go. I had nothing more to say to him. I knew others from his group were waiting for him. He had to absorb what had just happened to him. And frankly, so did I.  I got up from the table and grabbed my coat. He got up too and before I turned to leave I closed the gap between us and gave him a hug. His blue blazer was so soft. He held me and wouldn’t let me go.  

“I was so hoping you would do this” he said into my ear.  

He finally released me and I nearly floated out of the hotel. Those friends I had on speed dial? I called them. Overjoyed. Happiness overflowing and spilling out of me unchecked as I told them what had happened and what was said. In that 25 minutes with my dad, I felt something I had never felt before in my entire life.  I felt like I fit.  

The following day I arrived at work with a smile that wouldn’t quit. I told my boss how wonderful the entire thing had went. Our office Christmas party would be that weekend and I told him I was in a mood to celebrate.  He was overjoyed for me.  

I walked into my scheduled appointment with Sherri on Friday morning. This was the appointment I had put in place to mop up the expected aftermath of rejection that we all had been certain would happen.  Instead, I excitedly and joyfully repeated the story of my meeting to Sherri. She had tears running down her face. When I finished my story, she said: “I never cry!  I have been a counsellor for 17 years and I never cry!  This is like a Disney movie!” Indeed. She asked me the  same question David and Lizzy had asked: What now? I didn’t know the answer to that.  As far as I was concerned I had received more than what I had ever expected. I had expected rejection.  I did not get that. I had expected to be wrecked after this meeting. I was not. I did not expect to feel like I fit. And to me, this was a magnificent gift. When that piece of the puzzle slides into place - well, I was more than happy with the outcome.  I did not know what would happen next. I did not know if he would contact me. I did not know if I would contact him again. I was riding the high of what had just happened and it had been more than successful in my eyes.