One thing that I would really like to know — one thing that plagues me about the very early death of my birth-mother — is how I resemble her in those small, sometimes dismaying ways that become especially prevalent as daughters grow older.
On the bright side, I will never face the daunting realization that, Good god, I’m turning into my mother.
But then, I will never have the joy of realizing I’m just like my mother.
And yes — I do have a mom. Shelley has been in my life since I was quite young. But there are biological ties that cannot be denied. There are genes, there are the years together we never had, and there are the complicated and amazing ways they interact.
And it’s something I’m missing.
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Notes from others: