Searching through the sands of time examining my past.
Watching life I call my own pass through the hour glass.
So much has been forgotten, so much has been left behind.
So much that has been buried I search for but can not find.
People who have come and gone and those still here today.
Faces I have never seen who long since went away.
Missing names and histories leave only gaping holes.
Oh how I'd love to hear all of those stories left untold.
Each has left their mark upon my soul and memory.
This life that was created, an everlasting legacy.
I was told "it's just a name" by a co-worker last week when discussing names. These types of comments are made by people who have no idea the very foundation of their lives their names of origin give them. This is the attitude of many people who are not adopted and don't have their original identities taken from them and sealed by the state.
A few days later when this co-worker was asked why he went by initials instead of his first name he declared that people shortened his name and he was continually called by a partial of it. He did not like the "nickname" and wanted to be called by his full first name and since people could not seem to do that, he now was using the initials of his first and middle name. So, in fact a name DOES actually matter.
Loss in adoption is glossed over by the masses unaffected by it. What so many take for granted becomes a life long quest to find for those of us it has been taken from. It does matter, and a hell of a lot to so many of us.
The name I was given when I was adopted, and the family it comes from, does not describe or tell me who I am. It is not my genetic or historical background. It belongs to others who want to pin it to me and erase where I came from.
A name is only a name....until you lose it.