Part V: The Questionable Viscosity of Blood

I continued to forget that my mother's brother, sister-in-law, niece, and mother were also "family," and I was regularly surprised when they participated in the "family" traditions (viewing the body before visitation, staying for the closing of the casket, sitting at the front of the church, etc.). They hadn't wanted anything, or at least not much, to do with her for fifty years, and upon her diagnosis and death, they became family. These are the people who didn't meet me until I was a preschooler, despite living an hour away. These are the people who berated my mother for struggling with post partum depression after my brother's birth. These are the people who inspired her work in domestic abuse awareness and advocacy, not through their convictions but in response to their actions. I am confident that they don't know their role in her award winning work.

And now, I feel as though I'm in a position to decide whether to contact the Catholic Social Services agency through which my mother adopted out a child when she was a teenager. My hope in contacting them would be to communicate to the woman that her biological mother died young of a particularly brutal form of breast cancer. That woman is in her mid-30's now, and I find myself obligated to provide her with the opportunity to learn that crucial piece of her medical history. The truth is that my father has always been particularly opposed to trying to get in touch with her, and Mom said that was something she didn't need to do. I continue to respect her wishes although I have some curiosity about this woman, primarily how much we may look alike. Still, there is some kind of moral imperative driving me to fret about this decision. I believe she has a right to know what might kill her. With any luck, I can get this information to her without either of us knowing anything else about the other.