Being adopted has given me a feeling of being from two different worlds. I describe it as ‘nature and nurture.’ As I matured into understanding my adoption, I wondered about my traits, mannerisms, and thoughts. I needed to assign ‘nature or nurture’ for each behavior or tendency and ask myself if this comes from biology or upbringing.

For a time, my wish was to bring my two worlds together. My fairytale was to meet my biological family and to be welcomed into the family. Then I would share my birth family with my parents. I played the scenario over and over. My parents would accept them just as much as they had taken me. I was proud of who we were as a family and wanted my biological family to experience what I had.

The reunions with my biological family members were not sweet. My birth family had rejected me and treated me like a shameful secret. This was not what I wanted to share with my parents. Knowing my pain would have caused them the same pain.

My father had been dead for years by the time my biological brother came into my life. He would have loved my brother. My mother was still alive, but on most days, dementia would take her to a place where she had no recollection of her family.

My brother and I established a relationship. The fairytale seemed possible again, and I told him about my wish to bring my two worlds together. At the time, it was just a passing conversation, yet months later, he was visiting and suggested that we make my wish come true. He said that we would see my mother together.

That day my mother had a moment of clarity. I asked her to remember my adoption and showed her a picture of her and me on our first day together. I explained to her that my brother was part of the family who gave me to her. She looked my brother straight in the face and said, ‘did I do alright? At that moment, she understood, and he said, ‘yes, you did a wonderful thing.

My brother was so comfortable talking to her; it was as if they had known each other for a lifetime. Watching them together warmed my heart as my two worlds came together. I loved my mother with all of my heart, and he treated her with kindness and respect.

My mother had a love for music. We used it to soothe her when dementia left her anxious and upset. I may have mentioned this to my brother during our conversations, or maybe he instinctively knew it because he sang her a song. That day’s memory is so precious now that my mother is gone and my brother has faded out of my life. For one day, my two worlds met.