The Blessing of Memory

I'm amazed at the power of memory.  This week I've kept feeling the pull of memories from a year ago.  We were getting ready to adopt again, just beginning to learn of a girl only known to us then by an internet photo and an alpha-numeric identifier:  G10_60

The photo was accompanied by a description of a child needing a family that "understands grief, loss, and trauma."  Somehow we connected with that need, and couldn't begin to know the journey that would take us on...

We learned her name was Pallavi.  We learned she was in another state.  We learned that up until a few months earlier, she'd been living with her sister and another family who brought both girls to America from India with the intention of adopting them both.  That didn't happen, which meant another home for Gabby...

"A foster home," we were told, but we've since learned it was so much more, which all makes it very difficult to explain how G10_60 came from there to here...

Except to say she's here.

And here we are with her, a year later, with the sights and feelings of fall reminding us that a year ago we were just beginning to move into an unknown future.  

And here she is, a year later:  Gabriella Pallavi Jarman, a.k.a. Gabby.  To those her know her, a blessing for sure.

Don't get me wrong.  We're not oblivious to the fact that there is still hurting, and there are days  we know that Gabby is still wishing (like us) things could have been different for her.  But in a very Gabby-like manner, she takes life on it's own terms, and looks for those inevitable bursts of joy, fun, and love.  To her that is what life is all about.

Gabby and friends at the aquarium a few weeks ago.

Adoption:  By definition, it's love created from loss.  We decided a long time ago that it's the love and not the loss that defines us all, but there's always that little place in our hearts we go to visit where the loss lives, and hurts, and wishes for what could have been different.

Most definitely we heal, and live for all those bursts of joy and love.

But as fate would have it, on my semi-melancholy day, Gabby and I made a trip to the Indian grocery store.  As we were checking out, the store clerk began a conversation with one of the other customers in Hindi.  I saw Gabby look up at them and knew from the look on her face she understood them.  As soon as we were out the door, I asked her what they said.  "She asked when his cousin is coming and he said his cousin is coming on the 8th," Gabby told me.  

I tried to hide my shock.  For as long as I've known Gabby she swears she doesn't remember Hindi, except for a few words.  Yet here she was, almost a year after we met her, telling me what a store clerk said in Hindi.

Also for as long as we've known Gabby, she hasn't been interested in visiting the Hindu temple near our home, or even the cultural center or cultural events.

Today in the store we saw a sign for the upcoming Festival of Lights at the Krishna temple.  I asked if she wanted to go...  And she said yes!  (Anyone want to join us?  It's looking to be a fun day!)

On the way home we talked about speaking Hindi, and a few other languages Gabby knows.  She told me how she thought she had to forget Hindi to speak English or she'd be embarrassed if she accidentally spoke Hindi at school.  I'm just glad it's still in there somewhere.  A few minutes into the conversation she asked about taking an Indian dance class.  I'm pretty sure that means she's willing to go to the Hindu temple and Indian Cultural Center.  

I'm happy for her--happy she's remembering, and happy she's proud of who she is and connecting again to that part of her.

...Which leaves me in complete amazement again at the complexity of human beings.  Us...every little part of our lives, even the parts we don't understand.  And I'm feeling gratitude and amazement at the blessing of memory, and of healing.

And of course the blessing of Gabby!