He Died on November 12th

Today, I am feeling out-of-sorts. I'm praying for direction. I am praying for the ability to turn away from powerful urges I'm having to screw sorting out my feelings and seek the immediate bliss of consuming some kind of food to distract me from the harrowing discomfort.  

I'm not sure where this post will go, but I feel compelled to compose something concrete, to tether the emotions that threaten to pull me from the earth. Tears greeted me this morning as I sat down to write this. It was unexpected but I suppose not surprising, given the news I received 3 days ago. 

On Monday, I received an email from the Korean organization, National Center for the Rights of the Child (NCRC) that my birth father, born in 1937, died on November 12th, 1996. No additional information was provided. I don't even know his first name. I only know that his last name is Kim. This last name was on my adoption papers but I didn't know if it was my real name, or just one that was assigned to me when I got to Korean Social Services. I suppose there's evidence now to suggest it is real. Kim is my birth father's last name, so it was my last name. 

When I first found out, I jumped spryly over sadness like a gold-medal track and field runner. A man I never knew, was dead. I gave myself a moment, I did. Nope. No feelings about it whatsoever. I don't feel sad that a man I had no concept of 5 weeks ago is no longer living. I was honestly relieved by the definitive nature of the news. Now, there is no question about whether or not to try to find this person or pursue a relationship with him. The questions are moot. The man is gone. 

I realize now this news still represents a loss, and all loss is difficult.  

Growing up as a Korean American Adoptee, I never had the chance to feel the loss of anything. I jumped from the statement "I was adopted" to "and I feel lucky" in the same breath. And this was true. I did feel lucky. I just wanted to live my life. I had no desire to go searching into a past that I honestly believed, had nothing to do with me anymore. I did. I thought that my Korean roots had nothing to do with me anymore. Oh dear.