A New Beginning.

Standing at the pulpit, she looked up, realizing that no one sitting in the pews before her was related to her. Sure, she saw her dad's partner, Margaret, but they were not friends. A deep sense of aloneness engulfed her whole being as she took a deep breath. In a heartfelt eulogy, she shared how her dad Jack had been a single dad. It was just him and her for a long time. She spoke of how he sacrificed so much to be a present and attentive dad once her mom died. She was deeply grateful to have been so cherished by a man who had known adversity and loss yet arose to be all he could be for his young daughter.

After the brief service and visit to the cemetery for the interment, Margaret approached Vicky's car with a box of Jack's things. Jack was smitten with Margaret from the moment he'd met her, and Vicky was both relieved and a little envious at the time. While she was glad that her father had taken his focused attention off of her, there was something quite comforting in someone making you the center of their world. Maybe that was in part why Vicky and Margaret had never been friends. They looked at one another now, and both knew that after today, they would part ways. As she grabbed the box from her, she gave Margaret one last hug and said, "Thank you for loving him so much." And with tears in her eyes, Vicky headed home.

Jade, her cat, ran to her as she walked into her small apartment. She bent down and hugged her cat, her lifeline for now. Jade, it's just you and I, Vicky thought. Her dad was gone, and she knew nothing of her mom's family. It dawned on her that right now, no one in the world would even know or care if she was alive or not. That deep sense of aloneness returned. Vicky grabbed a glass of red wine and sat by the box that Margaret had given her. One of Jack's old t-shirts was there; she stripped off her clothes and put the t-shirt on. It still smelled of him. She wanted to keep that smell as long as she could. Under so many trinkets, some CDs, old business cards and his favorite glass Inukshuk, Vicky found a little black book. Its cover was used and worn. She opened it and saw that someone had crossed out all but three of the names listed. She had never heard of any of these people. The tears started streaming down her face. She cried because her world as she knew it was gone, and she no longer shared her memories of him with anyone in this world. She finished her wine and passed out, grabbing his t-shirt and listening to "I did it my way" from Jack's favourite Frank Sinatra cd.

The next morning, Vicky was not feeling up to doing much. She sat by her window, feeling the sun warm her legs. She leafed through the mysterious black book and wondered, could answers about her mom's life be in this book? Vicky called the first number available. When a man answered, Vicky asked to speak to Melanie. It turns out Melanie was away on a research trip and was unreachable at this time. Melanie's husband did not know Jack. Vicky thanked him for his time and moved on to the next number. This one for a woman named Tina, was disconnected.

The third and last number was different. It was for a woman named Jinny with a recent number above her name, and the original number crossed out. It was a Toronto number. Vicky, a Montreal native, had been to Toronto but a few times, and she wondered who Jack knew there. As she dialled, a shiver went up Vicky's spine. Maybe it was because this was the last number and the one remaining possibility of finding someone who might know something about her mom's family. The number was for a palliative care home named Cedar Hills. After explaining who she was, the home's director took the line and informed her that Jinny had passed away a few months ago and had left a sealed envelope in Victoria Robert's name. In that split second, Vicky made an impulsive choice. She arranged to pick up this envelope in Toronto early that evening. She hung up, feeling unsure of what this might be but excited at the same time. It was the perfect opportunity to not deal with her pain right now. She quickly packed a bag, called her neighbour to watch her cat, and hit the road. On the drive, she cried, and she laughed. Vicky's mind was whirling with possibilities, even potentially, of this being absolutely nothing leading nowhere.

Once she reached Cedar Hills, she stretched her long legs for a few moments and ran in to retrieve the package waiting for her at the reception. Once back in her car, she tore the envelope open and inside was a small note and a key. In the message was the name and address of a local bank. It was too late tonight to look into it. She found a hotel close by, and once in her room, she ordered some food and quickly jumped in the shower. She felt the heaviness of the last few days fall off her as the warm water hit her skin. She cried, the wave of emotions cresting once more. She knew she would feel better one day, but for now, it all needed to come out, so she let her tears join the water from the showerhead as it all cleansed her both inside and out.

The next morning, she headed to the bank and, upon identification, was shown to the safety deposit boxes. Once the keys opened number 13, which was also the day of her birthday, she was left alone with the box's contents. Inside she found many things; First, she was surprised to see many packets of money. Each of the 20 packets held one thousand dollars. Then, there was a letter, and some pictures. The woman in the photos was beautiful, and she had an adorable baby on her lap; in another, there were two children. Standing behind them was a young Jack. How could this be? How did they know each other? Had they had children before Jack met her mom? Jinny had only died a few months ago. Who was she? Vicky put all the contents in her purse and signed to close the safety deposit box. She returned to her car, grateful that she was no longer completely broke. She took a few minutes to read the letter:

Dear sweet child of mine, Victoria

If you are reading this, we did not get to meet while I was still alive. I am sorry about that. I hope once all is said and done, you can forgive me for never having been a part of your life. I will assume that if Jack is alive, he will fill in the gaps, but I want to share my side of this story. I am your mother. Your dad and I were married when I was young. I had you when I was 19, and he was 45. Jack and I were not good together. Our combined baggage was the most toxic mix. I tried to make it work. I tried to understand what he needed. If I had stayed in that marriage, you would have grown up in the most volatile and potentially violent environment. I could not stand for that to happen to you or your brother. I had a second child almost immediately. When your dad and I discussed it, he would not hear of me leaving with both of you. He knew my family was in Toronto, and I would leave Montreal. I knew that if we were to have a shared custody arrangement, you both would have lived in the shadow of our unresolved trauma and destructive ways. Since your brother was a newborn, we agreed that I would leave with him to return home. Your dad would raise you. We made the most painful decision two parents could ever make, to split up and split up our children.

I returned home with Daniel (his information is below). I have kept tabs on you, asking my childhood best friends Melanie and Tina to check in on you. They told me that you looked like an easy going happy little girl, and I was at least a little reassured that I did something less than monstrous. As for me, my life has been difficult. There is a great price to pay for a mother who leaves her child. I suffered from mental health issues all my life. I wish I could have run my hands through your hair while you lay your head in my lap. I wish I could have told you about my family, your grandparents, my sisters and brother. Yes, I am one of five children. My siblings have many kids and grandchildren too. Their info is also listed below. I know your dad lost his parents a few years ago, and it was only you and him. You were so important to him. I think you saved him from a life of anger and resentment. I am grateful for that part, at least. You do have a family here now if ever you are interested in getting in touch. They all know about you and will open their hearts and homes to you. As for the money, I did not have much, but what I had I split between you and Daniel. I hope this helps you in any way you need, and please know that I did not leave because I did not love you. I left because we felt your dad alone would create a much healthier environment for you. It might not make any sense to you. I thought it to be my only choice at the time. I hope you call Daniel and form some bond given you both came from the same two people. I love you. I always have. I suffered so much not having you with me. If you are a mother or ever will be one, you will know that to have any child removed from you is like losing a part of yourself. I lost a part of myself and dealt with that reality as best as possible since I too had a little life to raise and keep safe. I hope we meet one day in a world beyond this one.

I love you, Mom.

Vicky's makeup was running down her face. Her nose was leaking like an open faucet. She let out the most profound animal-sounding moan as she cried out for a mom whom she thought had been taken from her a long time ago but who was alive just elsewhere in the world. She felt hurt and confused and knew she would need to process all of this, but for now, she would return to the hotel and reach out to the family that she had hoped could exist and was now but a phone call away.