Time to Meet the Fam - Chapter 9

My dad was born July 16, 1942. As his birthday came closer, he emailed me and invited me to the farm for that weekend. If I was free they would have a “family get together and have (an) early birthday supper”. It would be my first visit to their home.  And the first time meeting my half-sisters and other family.   

I would  drive the 2 hours to Swift Current and meet Lizzy for lunch and a pep talk before driving the remaining hour to the farm. I was nervous to meet everyone and to stay at their home. Receiving a good pep talk from Lizzy before stepping into new experiences was becoming a habit.  A good habit.  It was around this time that Lizzy also shared one of her own fears as I began this process of meeting my new family - particularly meeting my half-sisters.  Lizzy and I both had different upbringings. She actually had siblings. Sisters and brothers. A mom and dad. A strong German heritage. And she had secretly hoped, all her life, that she was adopted. Her childhood was not a happy one and although she had grown up with siblings, she never felt connected to them. Over the 25 year span of our friendship, we had both come to view the other as a sister. Her fear was simple. Now that I had real sisters she was afraid that she would be displaced by genetics. I assured her that wouldn’t happen. She and I had a connection that could not be easily displaced. She hugged me and, as she would say multiple times over the next year, “I love you Nettie”.  I tucked that all away in my heart and drove away feeling excited and nervous, but confident. 

I arrived at the farm after lunch on Saturday July 13, 2013.  My dad and Norma waved to me from the front step and came to meet me across the yard. It was a gorgeous sunny day. The farm yard was awash in green grass and trees and Norma’s flower gardens were huge and full of blooms. They brought me into the house - a modest rancher style home that my dad had designed himself. We sat around the table and had tea and talked for a bit then my dad asked if I was up to a drive. I said I was and we left together in his truck. I wasn’t sure where my nervousness ended and my excitement started but I was thrilled with this drive in the prairie as he toured me around the Connick land pointing out various landmarks that were special to him including where his old school house had stood. I commented on the large wind turbines near their land and mentioned that I thought they were a marvel of simple technology and beauty.  It was a special moment when he turned off the road and drove up to the base of one of them so I could take a closer look. It was enormous and the soft whoosh of air it generated was spectacular. He shook the door at the bottom of the turbine - I have no doubt if it was unlocked, we would have stepped inside. He explained to me how they were built and how they worked and I reveled in this small moment in time where my dad, for the first time, was imparting a wee bit of knowledge to me, his daughter. We spent the afternoon talking and driving. He was keenly interested in birds and seemed to know every detail of the prairie. I was actually disappointed when we headed back to the house. I really didn’t feel like sharing him with anyone.  

Karen and Taylor arrived first. Salad and gifts in hand.  I was hugged straight away.  Karen has a very straightforward way about her.  She is all business, a tremendous cook, with a quick, and slightly sarcastic, sense of humour.  Although we had been in touch by email, it was my first face to face meeting. Taylor pulled me into the living room and showed me the photo album that she brought with her to introduce me to her life. It was full of her animals. Dogs and horses and kittens. She was a mature and vibrant young lady and I so appreciated her willingness to just jump right into building a relationship with me. The only thing she loved more than her animals was dance. She was heavily involved in her music program at school and for a moment, I saw an early me in this beautiful, vivacious, talented girl.   

Lisa and her boys arrived with a loud bang. Jason age 3, is a hurricane in motion.  Wyatt, not quite 1, was a little more contained. I learned that Lisa’s personality is as big as her constant smile. She, much like Jason, is always in motion. Ma (Norma) hugged her boys and the chaos began. Pa (Dad) was Wyatt’s favourite and when he was not glued to Lisa, he was glued to Pa. They were both unsure of who I was or what I was doing there. I was a little unsure myself. But Wyatt and I connected when he found out I could make some music on the piano. He sat beside me and studied my fingers as I played his favourite children’s songs. He then proceeded, not to bang on the piano with open hands as most toddlers would do, but to press each of his fingers into the keys as I did. Yes - this is me, telling you, that my nephew is smarter than yours.  I’m his aunt, what can I say?

We sat around the dining room table that night and celebrated my dad’s 71st birthday. Candles on the cake were lit then relit so the boys could blow them out again and again. I sat, participating in the conversation at times, but mostly I listened and observed. It was all overwhelming. And surreal.  Family traditions and dynamics were being played out in front of me and suddenly, it seemed, I had been dropped into the middle of it. I was now a part of it. It gave me a taste of what I was in store for. A family who had the biggest hearts imaginable that were ready and willing to fling open the door to their lives and invite me in - no equivocation. The part I couldn’t believe about the entire weekend? There was not one moment of awkwardness. What a gift that was! It was a testament to the generosity that each person in that room gave to the situation.  I soaked it in and met it with immense joy and gratefulness.   

I spent a good deal of time around the dining room table that weekend as I would in subsequent visits.  It was around that table that we began the process of filling in the past 52 years of my life - and the past 71 years of my dad’s life. The more time we spent around that table, the more comfortable we became with each other. I drove home from that weekend (which would begin a trend) in tears.  Not sad tears - but tears of joy. I would smile and cry the entire 3 hour drive while thoughts and emotions bounced around in my brain like sugared-up children in a bouncy castle.  

I learned a few key things that weekend. In the initial email my dad had requested that this be a “no present birthday”... "as they say let your presence be your present." Furthermore, my offer to bring something for the weekend and/or the birthday celebration was met with instructions to just bring myself. Norma had all the preparations made. Not wanting to stand out or offend anyone I heeded those instructions. No one else did. My sisters arrived with arms full of food and presents. It could easily have left me feeling like a loser but I took it in stride and good humour. I would know better next time.  This was all part of my education into the Connick way. Always go with your gut, Annette!

The day after I returned home - the actual day of my dad’s birthday - he emailed me and said:

“It made me very happy to at last have all of my family together...”

Let’s just sit with that statement for a few moments shall we.  

The summer of 2013 was tremendously tumultuous for me.  I had been living separated under the same roof with my husband since January. It was not ideal. The stress was taking its toll. My hair stopped growing and started to fall out and by September I would need medication to abate my anxiety, depression and sleeplessness. Given that I was sleeping behind locked doors did not help matters.  I had limited time with my sons. They didn’t normally spend much time with me anyway, but had really pulled away after the separation. They were becoming more willing to meet me for lunch or supper. My daughter was still refusing to speak to me or allow me to see my grandkids, and as each of their summer birthdays came and went, I felt new rips scrape deep grooves into my heart. I grieved, every time I would visit with my dad, that he could not meet his grandchildren and great-grandchildren. I wanted my kids and grandkids to know him. He was so special and they were missing out on an amazing relationship with him. These despairing, hurtful and broken relationships were juxtaposed against those of my new burgeoning ones with my dad and half-sisters that were filled with joy, laughter and generosity. I have always hated roller coasters - or any other fairground ride that could fling or plunge you to an untimely death - but I was stuck on one that could take me to the heights of happiness then plunge me into the depths of despair - often times all in the same day. The only constant in my life was my friendship with Lizzy and my deepening relationship with God. I was throwing at Him all my anxiety and stress and hurt, joy and thankfulness and He was pouring out grace and love and healing into my life.   As I floundered through all these new emotions and experiences with my dad, God was using them to show me who my Heavenly Father was.  Discovering my Dad - both the earthly and heavenly one - was a parallel journey. It was remarkable.  Surprising.  And life-changing.  

An excerpt from my diary:

“...I'm trying to let the love and acceptance from my dad sink in... I feel such happiness and joy - and it's such a new experience. And I can't help thinking that You placed this in my life because You knew that I would lose my kids and grandkids. I need to hang on to this experience with my dad (to know) - that reunions - reconciliation - is all possible.”

Through it all, despite the pain, I was flooded with gratefulness for my life. I was able to see, appreciate and be thankful for all the blessings I had previously and was currently receiving. I spent a lot of time lamenting to God - I cried copious tears - but I spent just as much time thanking Him - and spilling tears of joy. What a gift He had given me - my dad, Norma and my half-sisters - it was like winning the freakin’ lottery - a lottery I didn’t know I entered! I was helping my boss with his computer one day and told him about meeting my half-sisters and the birthday celebration I had just attended. “You must need something like this right now." he said. He was so right. Although the people at work were incredibly supportive of me - and I still had some good solid and life-long friendships left - not to mention a magnificent church that had welcomed my hurting soul with arms wide open - this new relationship with my family was breathing hope, joy, and love into my life.  

Photo Credit:  Annette Moore 2013