Of 42 and Fish...

I got some good news today; my youngest brother and his girlfriend are engaged.  The wedding is in September of next year.  So, I already have an excuse to plan a trip out there then, not that I really need an excuse.  With this news comes the usual adoptee feeling of “great, another happy event/piece of news to make me sad.”  I don’t want to give the impression that I am not happy for my brother, I am very happy for him.  I am already looking forward to going to the wedding and celebrating with my people.  This will likely be an opportunity to meet some extended family I have only heard about and of course it will mean having everyone together.  Sounds great doesn’t it?  I am sure it will be.

So, why is there a “but?”  Well, there isn’t, however there is an “and.”  The “and” is what clubbed me over the head today; it is the same one that does it to me most of the time.  The “and” covers all the similar events I missed in the past.  I missed the engagements and weddings of both of my sisters (or all three of my sisters if one chooses to count the one I haven’t met on my biological father’s side- I can’t decide if I count her or not, she clearly doesn’t count me).  It also covers the awkwardness I always seem to feel because I don’t know people I should know.  I don’t mean just extended family (though of course they are part of it), but also the family I should have been with and should know much better than I do. 

I leave in a couple of days to spend Thanksgiving with them.  This is the first “major holiday” I will be spending with them.  I expect it will be one of many to come.  I hope that means it will eventually just be a happy time.  I don’t want to jinx it, but this is something that has been on my mind as the day approaches so perhaps writing about it will excise it to one extent of another.  I missed 42 of these (does it mean something that it is 42?  I don’t know where my towel is right at the moment after all).  I am thankful I won’t be missing 43 and also sad (there is that and again) that I missed the 42.  Of course that also translates to 42 Christmases (and it will be 43 this year, I won’t be there for Christmas), and 43 Easters, and countless birthdays. 

So happy events that make me sad.  It seems to be the theme of the night, again.  So long and thanks for all the fish, more to come; my sincerest apologies to Douglas Adams.