The Truth can Hurt More

The day was not too bad when I first got up to go out. I was looking forward to meeting with my mom, with whom I chose to meet for coffee, around this time each Thursday.

I was getting dressed and making sure I had my usual two cups of coffee, before I headed out, so that I would be mentally and emotionally prepared to meet with her.

The facts were this, she was in her early eighties, was starting to show signs of dementia, and sometimes came to the coffee shop, missing certain items, that we would use to have our Thursday chats, while we shared these remaining moments, before she completely forgot me and all that matter most to her.

When I arrived, there was a group of people standing around, whispering in hushed tones, and as I got closer, I noticed there was a person lying on the ground. I was surprised to see my mom's oldest and dearest friend, not moving.

They were not responsive, and no one approached her, then the paramedics arrived eventually, and slowly made their way towards the now lifeless body. I was not sure how to register this, and looked up, seeing my mom. Her face with worry, at the idea of her friend being the one on the ground.

I did not stand there long, wanting to avoid a scene and wanting to start our time, with coffee, and remembering all the memories, which made my mom happiest. Before I could go to our usual table, I was confronted with a now irate and upset woman, who was noticing, her friend being the one on the stretcher.

I turned, being knocked over by this woman, and without a second thought was trying to catch up with the ambulance, as it was speeding away. When she realized it was useless to run after them, she returned inside the coffee shop, and walked over to me, with a silent sigh, met my gaze and then looked down.

I was not sure how to react or respond to this, and we both headed to our table in complete silence. We ordered or should I say I ordered our two cups of coffee, hers being mocha espresso and mine being a Frappuccino. As we waited for our coffees, she looked up at with a slightly unusual look, which was more serious than I had remembered being, even when she calls me by my full name, especially when I was in trouble.

She started to speak, more in a low whisper, then blurted out something else and waited for me to respond. She was first angry, then smiling, then just quiet. She started again, speaking the same words she had yelled, "You are adopted". "I hope you are ok with finding this out now".

I was not sure how to feel at that very moment, learning this latest news, even after what had only taken place moments earlier. I was not sure she had registered about her friend's passing. She was like her old self, and I was ok with the idea of her being that way, even if it was sudden.

She looked around the coffee shop, let out a sigh, then proceeded to speak about an adoption, about her never meaning for me to find out this way, apologizing repeatedly, then continuing with the whole story. The idea was to shock me or to let me know the truth about whose son I was really.

She spoke about my deceased father, about the truth of his death, what had happened when she was asked to not identify the body, and everything that happened afterwards. I was not sure how my mind was going to react, much less I personally. I wanted to ask questions, wanted to know all the information that I could remember, so I could write it all down.

She was not aware that she had turned my day from a decent one into a much worse one than I could foresee. I wanted to cry, I wanted to hide my face, I wanted to no longer be there, be where I was at that moment when the news was delivered to me and more than one person had heard it said.

She then started crying, started to feel ashamed, making me feel bad and somehow not really knowing why. She then stopped. Stopped talking and just sat there very still. I saw why she had stopped, and reached out for her hand. She was having a seizure, a mild one, and then as suddenly as it started, it ceased. She proceeded to talk again, but it sounded like gibberish. I placed her hand in mine, and slowly rubbed it until she calmed down.

She looked at me with sadness and explained all that she had shared before. "You know I was very young, when I had you". "There was no way I was able to take care of you, yet my friend was more than willing to take care of you".

"I was still living at home, and my stepmother, was not having me, my younger sister, and a newborn baby all living there. It broke my heart and the pain never went away, when I decided to place you in my friend's care".

She mentioned that Patty, her oldest and dearest friend, had been overjoyed at the idea, because she herself was not able to have children. "Patty and I had grown up together, they still lived next door to us, and the last time I went to visit, her aunt informed me that they had moved out". " I was devastated at the idea of no longer being able to see you anymore".

"She did try to phone the house, but since it was stepmother who answered the phone, I never got the chance to talk with her".

I nodded and was eager to hear more. Then mom said, "It was then I knew that I had lost you forever". "I was no longer sure how i would live my life, but I was able to find a job and move out on my own". 'I later married, and had one daughter, with whom you know as Amber".

"It was later on, that Amber's dad grabbed a knife, threatening to kill her, and I had had enough". "He had become abusive with me and had neglected his daughter, without any specific reason". "I left him, and we were placed in protective custody".

I was shocked that she had been through such an ordeal, such a traumatic experience, and survived. Before I could speak to ask her more, to continued, "it was while we were away, that he threatened to kill her twice more". "I was beside myself, and was not sure what to do to protect my daughter at all cost".

"I snuck out of the safe house we were living at, drove to where he lived still, and with a loaded gun, was making sure to end this ordeal once and for all".

"Breaking into the house, I walked slowly into his bedroom, and pointed the gun at his face, intent on shooting him". "I instead pushed on him, shaking him awake, and smelled alcohol". "He woke up, saw the gun, began to cry and beg for his life".

"I was unsettled at the sight of a grown man, crying and begging". "I then felt sorry for him, and spoke quickly". "If you ever threaten my daughter, I will return and I will remove you making you wish you had never existed".

"After that day, I never saw him nor heard from him". "It was like he dropped out of sight". "We were then placed elsewhere, and the visits from our friend, were less and less". "I was glad to have the protection, but it was slightly annoying too".

I was about to ask, before mom spoke the last part, "I was looking at some old photos, and it was then that I remembered I had a son". "Somewhere, out in the world, was my son who was by now a grown man". "I got into with my friend, Patty, with whom I had recently reconnected with, and explained to her my dilemma".

"She mentioned to me about where you lived, and how I could contact you". "And with that, I contacted you, and here we are".

I then realized how all this was beginning to make sense. I knew now that Patty who was not my mother, had loved me and made me feel like I was her son. I was about to ask something else, when as I reached over to hold my mom's hand in mine, it was cold.

I was still holding her hand, when I asked the waitress to call the paramedics, and when they arrived to place mom on the stretcher. I did not want to let her go but knew that this was the closing chapter of her long-lived life.

I paid for the coffees, giving a tip to the waitress. I headed out the door, turning left to head back home. The clouds in the sky were blurred as the tears flowed down my cheeks. This would be the best way, to lay all things to rest and move on.