Meeting D

I have been busy. Between soccer and genealogy my days are filled. But now I find myself with some time to continue on with my last post.
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I had never traveled anywhere of great distance driving on my own so I was feeling a bit nervous as I set out. I had my map, which I had looked at so often in the past week, that I almost knew it by heart. Today of all days, I didn’t need the added aggravation of getting lost. In the end, it took about an hour to get there and I didn’t have any trouble at all.
B***y and S***y were already there having arrived just a few minutes before me. Once invited into the living room, I quickly glanced around. I was surprised at how young and attractive Do***n was. I greeted everyone with an awkward “Hi.” I had forgotten how pretty my cousin S***y was. It had been 18 years since I saw her and her Mom B***y. But, her Mom looked much older than her 49 years. If I hadn’t already known her age, I’d have guessed her to be around 60. The years had obviously not been the kindest to her.
At first we all made idle chit-chat. Things were rather awkward at first as no one knew quite what to say. But Aunt D (as we later started to call her) was such a lovely person that soon we all relaxed as she made us feel right at home.
Eventually the topic of conversation got around to Aunt D, and what her life was like as a young girl living in the Holyoak family home. It was plainly evident that she wasn’t happy as she grew up in such a dysfunctional family. Her turning point came when she was legally removed out of their care and placed into a foster home at the age of 11. This is where she remained for the next five years. At 16, her foster parents moved to Florida leaving her behind to fend for herself. She got her own apartment and shortly after entered business college to get herself a degree. She had the drive and the ability to make something of her life. This is the reason that out of all of the Holyoak children, D is the one who is the most stable and has a ‘normal’ life. She has worked very hard to get where she is today. She now lives happily with her husband and two grown children. And recently enjoyed the addition of her first grandchild. Her personality is so sweet and caring. I liked her instantly and knew that we would always keep in touch.
My cousin and I mostly just listened as B***y and D reminisced about a time many years ago that we were not a part of. They talked about my Grandfather, Victor, who died very young of a heart attack, (he was only 50 and my Grandma was still pregnant with their last child) leaving my Grandma, Ida, to cope on her own. Raising 7 children on limited funds, in a tiny home, took it’s toll. Ida went downhill fast. She turned to men and alcohol to dull the reality of her situation. So the children lacked the supervision and stability they needed. In the end, they just ran wild.
Soon they turned the conversation around to Diane. (my mother). No one came right out to give me her life all in one story, beginning to end. Instead, there were just snippets of information thrown around. It was like pieces of a puzzle that I had to put together.
Someone would say how they remembered how she loved to bake and would make D’s favorite, tea biscuits. And in the next minute I heard how she loved cats and once had a Siamese. She was good with hair and would do all the ladies in the neighborhood when they had a special night out. It was the era of up-do’s and she was good at it. Being the eldest sister of 3 years she ended up looking after D and my Uncle Donald a lot. But she did manage to find time to get into trouble. So much so that she ended up in the “Gult reformatory” in Guelph for a few years. Apparently she was ‘incorrigible’ I don’t think she had much of a childhood at all.
Later that day once I had come back home, I wrote down every morsel of information that I could remember. Then I put them in order of what I guessed was past to present. It still didn’t make up a complete picture, but, at least I was getting some insight into what kind of woman my mother was.
Throughout the afternoon, something was bothering me. There were a few things that weren’t adding up. Little things here and there. Contradictions. For instance, when I told them that I was going to start searching for Diane, they both voiced their concern that I shouldn’t get my hopes up too high. I answered back that I wasn’t naive enough to think I could actually find her. Especially if she left Canada to go and live in the States, and wasn’t allowed back. B***y was confused. Looking baffled she asked where I had heard that, because last she had heard, Diane was living in Vancouver. That was about 10 years ago. I couldn’t understand why she said that. After all, It was B***y herself who originally told me that she had gone to the U.S., all those years ago when she talked to me in my parents home. I didn’t say anything to her though. Instead, I just let the matter drop. It did leave me with a flicker of hope though. Vancouver would be much easier to search for her in. At least we were in the same country!
I was also a bit puzzled that no one said she was a lesbian. B***y had told me that too, 18 years ago. In fact, from what I had been hearing this afternoon she didn’t like women,… she definitely liked men. (maybe she was bi?) I just filed that bit away in my mind as well.
D left the room. A few minutes later, she returned carrying a large envelope. My heart nearly stopped. Pictures! She was going to show us pictures. She first passed around the ones of her two grown children and her grandson. Then one of her brother, my Uncle Donald, who was presently living in Los Angeles as an actor. He had changed his name to Julian Ayres. He was a very nice looking man.
And lastly, she brought out a small photo. It looked as if it had been cut in half. It wasn’t all that clear. But there it was,… Diane. I cannot tell you how it felt to finally see what my mother looked like after 30 years of wondering. She didn’t look anything like I expected her to. For one, she was blonde. (My hair is black as black can be,…) When I mentioned that surprised me, they told me she was naturally dark haired but changed the colour of it often. Both B***Y and D said she lived in her curlers and joked that they wonder how they had gotten a picture of her at all without her trademark curlers in. I didn’t want to stare at the picture too long, as all three of them were watching me, waiting for my reaction. I passed the photo around so B***y and S***y could see it too. Then it got placed on the coffee table in the middle of us. When we all got talking again, I just nonchalantly picked it up and put it in front of me on the table where I could look at it unobserved. I tried to burn it into my memory.
D then gave us a tour of her home. She seems to have a flair for decorating as her home was lovely. Later we all sat down at her dinning room table for a mid-afternoon snack. We all seemed much more relaxed as we had been together for a few hours now.
And that’s when B***y told me something that I’ll never forget. She started out by saying “I know I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but,…. I have to confess that your mother J*** asked me to tell you that Diane was dead.” I was really shocked to hear that. I asked her when all this took place and she said 18 years ago.
Way back in 1977 or so  B***y had received a letter from J*** explaining who she was and that she was trying to locate Diane Holyoak. B***y called her and explained that she was Diane’s sister-in-law, but didn’t know where Diane was anymore. She hadn’t seen, nor spoken to her in many years. J*** then asked her if B***y would please drive up to our home in Brampton and talk with me. She thought that was alright and agreed. But then J*** asked her if she would tell me that Diane was dead. B***y, understandably, was not comfortable with this request at all and refused. They finally decided that B***y would come up and speak to me in person. She would relate to me all that she could remember about my birth mother Diane. She came with two of her children, S***y and S****a. So I got to meet my two cousins as well. I was about 15 at the time.
As I sat at D’s table, things suddenly became clearer. I didn’t say anything to anyone else around the table, but in my mind things were starting to add up. I would bet, that J**n and B***y concocted the “something about fur coats and fleeing the Country” story so that I would no longer think she was anywhere in Canada anymore and if she wasn’t in Canada anymore, then there wouldn’t be much point in searching for her as she would be almost impossible to find. (This is long before the time of computers) In the end it worked. I did think searching for her would be futile. So I didn’t bother. B***y probably forgot a lot of what she told me. After all, 18 years had passed. That would explain why she looked so puzzled when I said she had fled to the States. She had even asked me where I had heard that,… This left me wondering about the truth of her being a prostitute and a lesbian. But I didn’t dare ask.
And while we were on to confessions, D told us how her brother (my Uncle) Brian had called her and admitted that it was him who had called in to the Children’s Aid all those years ago which resulted in the removal of all us younger children from the Holyoak home and being placed in foster care. He was overcome with guilt. Three days later, he commit suicide with a lethal dose of drugs and alcohol. I really felt for D. It couldn’t have been an easy thing to hear and she must have really felt for him.
All too soon, It was time for me to be getting on my way home. I was reluctant to leave as it had been an enjoyable afternoon. As I was getting ready, D handed me a small gift. Inside was a little tree ornament. On the attached card she had written “Once lost,… forever found,… May this be a new beginning,… Love Aunt D” I was moved by that. And of course, I would cherish that ornament always.

D and I have stayed in touch ever since this first visit and have become quite close. When the girls were young we used to spend Christmases there. I really felt a ‘family’ connection with her. I feel blessed to have found her.

 Aunt D                The picture of my Mother that was                                                                                                     on the coffee table

 

Where is Diane?

I have been researching my family tree for a year now. It has been enjoyable,.. frustrating,…. and also heart-warming. I feel like I have stepped back in time into a different world. It’s been fascinating to learn of their lives. It seems to be filling a void in me somewhere. Learning who I came from and where. 

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Continuing on with my last post,…

I had just put Hayley down for her nap and set Michelle and her friend up with crafts in the basement. That would buy me at least an hour to sit down with my cup of tea and derive some sort of plan on how to tackle this search. My obvious source to begin was to call my Aunt B***y. We had exchanged Christmas cards from the previous year, but we hadn’t had any contact since then. I took out my address book and looked up her phone number. I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly before dialing. The phone rang once….twice,…  then a male voice answered. When I asked for B***y he informed me I had the wrong number. That threw me a little. I wasn’t expecting to hit a road block so soon after I started. I hung up feeling disappointed. But I wasn’t about to give up. So I took out a pen and paper. I’ll just have to write instead.

That evening I walked to the mailbox. I mentally noted that once this letter left my hand, there would be no turning back. But I was anxious to get started. I dropped it in and walked away with no regrets.

It was over a week before I got her call. We idly chatted first. “How are you?” “Your family?” “Have you started your Christmas shopping yet?” Then I took the plunge. Could she help me look for Diane? Her answer was exactly what I expected it to be. Yes. She was willing to help. But she didn’t feel that she could contribute anything beneficial. She then startled me with the news that D****n Holyoak, Diane’s younger sister had called her that very week after 30 years of no contact! This had to be fate. And during their brief conversation B***y revealed to her that she had met and kept in touch with me. Diane’s daughter. The one that she had to relinquish to Children’s Aid all those years ago in August 1964. I was 11 months old.

D****n seemed interested in this. After hearing all there was to know, she told B***y that she would very much like to meet me someday. I was obviously quite pleased to hear all this and was eager to get going on setting up a time and place. B***y promised to give my Aunt a call that very day. I hung up the phone with a good feeling. This was just too good to be true.

Weeks went by before I heard anything back. I had almost given up hope thinking that she must have changed her mind and didn’t want to meet with me after all. Until one Friday evening in November. J**f had taken the girls over to his parents for a few hours and I was taking advantage of the empty house by washing the kitchen floor. I had just finished rinsing out the mop when the phone rang. I half expected it to be J**f telling me they had decided to stay there a bit longer. So I was startled to hear a woman’s voice asking for me. I’ll never forget what she said after that,…  “Hi Jacqueline, It’s your Aunty calling” She sounded so warm and inviting, so I knew right away that there would be no hostility. She was easy to talk to. She told me all about her family,… her job,…where she lived,…  She sounded lovely. and so,… normal. I don’t know what I was expecting. Maybe a little rough around the edges? After all, everything I had heard about this family was anything but normal.

We finally got around to discussing her sister. D****n, like B***y, had no idea where she could be. The last time she had heard from her was over 10 years ago. Diane had called her when their brother B***n had passed away. He had commit suicide. But she hadn’t seen or heard from her since. I was discouraged to hear this but certainly not defeated.

By the end of our conversation, we had agreed to meet at D****n’s home in Newmarket on a Saturday afternoon in two weeks time. D****n was going to call B***y and see if she would like to join us. And just as I knew they would, those two weeks seemed to drag on forever.