I hate the feeling, THAT feeling. The specific feeling that I can't describe. I suppose I better tell you about why I hate it, but it's a long story, I hope your ready for the ride of my life.
It all really started off a few years back, I was 17, and I noticed mum and dad were a bit odd at the time, not acting themselves around me. I didn't want to ask them why, because it's their business and none of mine. I kept saying to myself 'oh, they'll tell me eventually, just let it go for now and it'll all come out in time, everything does,' so I carried on hanging with my friends, doing my A levels, just really having fun. On one day, actually, a Saturday at 9 am (sorry, I remember times exactly, it's one of those random odd things everyone has that are different to each individual) and told me, that mum was going to die. I burst into tears, knowing in that second my perfect life was shattered. Terminal Cancer, and there was no way I could help, no way I could cure her. Mum said to me before she passed away three months later that no matter what she'll always be around. I still talk to her, everyday. I tell her what's going on, she never answers back, but I can guess.
Anyway, there was another twist in the tale of me. Their not actually my real parents. No, they adopted me, it showed they cared so much about me. But I wasn't there flesh and blood, and they decided to tell me this on the day that mum told me about her condition. I hope they didn't think I was going to take it well, because I didn't. Knowing I had been lied to my whole life, it hurt, more than anything. Looking back, I wish I hadn't of over-reacted. I might have been able to see my mum happier again, before she left the world. I feel so guilty, for not making her last experiences on this earth enjoyable, because I made her life hell. Because she never told me.
I do understand now the reasons why they never told me. They wanted me. They didn't want me to think of them as not parents. They will always be my parents, I just wish I saw that back then, instead of now. I remember the first time I had a day off school, I didn't have any days off school, I loved it so much. But I had the chucking up bug, and mum didn't want me to go in. I had a right paddy, screaming and kicking things. The only way mum calmed me down was to take me shopping, buy me a MacDonalds and hope for the best. You know, my mum knew exactly how to calm me.
They gave me this locket see, in the locket was a picture of my mum, my real mum. The one who had me in her tummy for 9 months, the first person to hold me. I wore it around my neck since I was given it. The first reason was to spite my parents, so that they knew the pain I was feeling for them lying to me. For revenge of the unknown. It was a silly reason, it shouldn't really even be a reason. My mum always told me never to regret anything, so I don't. I never have regretted any of my actions, and I shall never do in the future.
When mum passed away, my dad and brother, they just couldn't cope. I would see dad making toast, cutting it into triangles like mum would do for me, stare at it, then put it in the bin. It killed me inside, watching him. But it was a way of grief. However, my greif grew to curiosity, knowing that I had something that wasn't there before. I could find the person who created me, ask her questions, maybe get some kind of relationship, never as close as me and mum. It was still too painful.
I made the phone call to the adoption agency, knowing that my birth name was Amy Mitchell, I gave them that name. And to my surprise they told me that my birth mum was currently living in Walford, London, and that her name was Veronica Mitchell. She told me that every time she had a change of address, Veronica had always made sure the adoption agency knew. My curiosity grew, I wanted to know the truth, now that I had some information from my mum and dad, I needed to go out into the world, find my myself, and find her.
I packed my bags, said to my dad I would always be there if he ever needed me, and went to the train station. I remember the train journey to London, it was about an hours journey if that, but it felt like days. The agonising feeling of not knowing how people would react, the idea that I had never been to London before. That was the first time I opened the locket, and I realised why I was wearing it, I wanted to be close to her, maybe try and understand her, maybe there was a connection between the locket and herself.
She looked so young in the photo, which automatically gave me the idea that she was way too young to look after me. I said to myself 'there's one legitimate reason why she couldn't be there for me,' and there was hope, a hope that meant she cared. Putting my ipod in, listening to some soulful music, I just stared at the photo, unable to do anything else as my eyes were transfixed on the photo anyway.
The train continued to get fuller and fuller, until someone sat next to me, minding their own business. She had blonde hair, and was busy reading the paper. Though something inside of me made me want to talk to her, my mum had told me never to talk to strangers, even if I am old enough. I always want to continue my mums advice, it was always the best. She will probably say that she was proud of me, for going against that instinct.
I carried on staring at the photo, and then the woman sat next to me also stared at it. I felt the presence, you know like the one you get when you know something is watching you? I quickly shut the locket, and put it back on my neck. The woman looked shocked, I didn't understand why she did. She asked me, 'who is that in there?' I remember my mum's advice, but you always have to be polite, so I told her the truth 'my mum, I'm trying to find her see, I was adopted, and well, my mum passed away so I thought best to find her, ask her questions, you know' I whispered, I had no idea why I was telling a perfect stranger all about my life, in basic terms. Her mouth went into an O shape, yet she still looked shocked. I saw something around her own neck, I looked closer to see she had her own locket, so I thought best to continue the conversation, she asked me about her life, maybe I could ask her? 'what about yours?' I asked. She replied, 'My baby, I gave her up, I didn't want to, not in any way,' She just looked into my eyes and said, 'Do you know the name that you had when you were born?' she continued the conversation and I thought best to reply, maybe she knew my mum, maybe she could help me find her, 'Amy, Amy Mitchell, so the adoption agency said anyway.'
I will always remember that face, the idea that I wasn't even in London yet I had found her, accidentally as it was. Her face went from a shocked face to a smile, the best smile I have ever seen. 'I'm Ronnie, Veronica Mitchell, I can't believe it, but I thought you were dead, are you heading to Walford,' Ronnie continued, she was speaking so fast I could barely understand her. I nodded, unable to contain my joy as tears ran down my face.
The feeling of shock, it's a feeling that I will never understand. I had got it from my parents, and then from Ronnie. It was so much to take in, I couldn't stand the shock. That's why I can't describe it. It's mixed with confusion and sadness yet happiness and curiosity that has kept me going beforehand. It's something I can't describe. But I guess that's me. Danielle Jones.