I always knew the names of my godparents, but I can’t recall what they look like. As I sit here writing, I’m having flashbacks to a photo album I might have. I think it contains pictures from my first birthday. I’ll need to look for it—maybe it’s in storage in the carport, or perhaps in my closet, though I suspect that’s where my baby book is.
My baby book came in handy recently when I finally discovered my exact birth time, which made a significant difference in my astrology charts. It turns out I was born an hour earlier than I thought, changing my moon and ascending signs. Everything makes more sense now.
Back to the story: I was baptized on March 12, 1973, at St. Raphael Catholic Church. My godparents were friends of my parents, who bowled together. My mom was 19 when I was born, and my father was 27. I don’t know much about their relationship except that it ended in a bitter divorce when I was seven and my sister was about three and a half. I believe my godparents were chosen because they were close friends at the time.
I used to think they were more my dad’s friends, which might explain why I haven’t seen or heard from them since I was a toddler. Discussing my dad with my mom has always been uncomfortable, so I’ve kept my feelings to myself. Over the years, and even after moving to Colorado, I’ve made peace with my father’s absence. I’ve come to understand that he did love me; he was just deeply affected by the hardships and experiences he faced. My mother raised my sister and me as a single parent in a town where it was extremely difficult to get by without much money.
I can’t recall if I thought about or asked about my godparents growing up. It just never seemed to cross my mind, I guess. Sometimes I heard others talk about their godparents, which would trigger a “Hey, I have godparents” thought. This was all before the internet, so all we had were phone books and operators to assist. It wasn’t as easy to find people as it is now. I sometimes miss those times. I remember hearing their names from time to time, just floating in the universe.
Every time we moved and packed up our lives, I would stumble upon my baby book, christening dress, and blanket. That might be why their names have been so present in my mind. We’ve moved about five times in the 26 years my husband and I have been together. Which brings me to how I found something from my godparents.
Another time, I’ll tell you the story of how our cat Doug came into our lives about 10 months ago. He’s the lead character in this current story, so I’ll give a quick introduction. Doug just turned 10 and is an orange cat. We adopted him from a former colleague. He has quirks like most orange cats do and is still adjusting to living in a new space. He mostly stays in the living room area and doesn’t like to come into the back bedrooms. He cautiously comes into our room and sniffs around, particularly at the bottom of my nightstand where I store books and other items. It was a little dusty and messy, and I honestly didn’t know what I had down there.
I decided to clean and organize the space, hoping Doug might feel more comfortable coming in. As I was cleaning, a card fell out. It was a card to my dad from Christmas, a few months before he passed. I had kept some of his paperwork, and I guess I considered this important. The card was addressed to my dad, and the return address bore the names I remembered as my godparents. I saw this as a sign. I tucked the card away for about two months, but kept it on my dresser, seeing it every time I passed.
Eventually, I sat down to make a connection. I did a little search online but didn’t find anything new. I did come across some phone numbers, but I chose to write a good old-fashioned letter instead. I typed it up, printed it out, addressed the envelope, and dropped it in my purse, finally mailing it a few days later. I eagerly awaited some kind of response, providing my phone number, email address, and social media contacts in case they used any of those platforms.
Finally about a week later maybe even less I was getting a call from a number in Montana. I was at work and couldn’t answer. I waited to see if a voicemail was left and lo and behold I saw the notification. I listened..
It was Richard my godfather who at this time was 81 I believe. He left a brief message about receiving my letter and if I wanted to I could call him back.
First thing after work and settled at home I laid on the couch and click on the call back button. I was excited to finally get to talk to the two people my parents thought would be good to support the my spiritual growth and faith, acting as a mentor and guide, while also offering emotional and practical support to both the myself and my parents. At least that was the definition I came across when asking google what the meaning of godparents was. I had a belief that if anything was to happen to the parents the godparents would become the guardians or assist any remaining parent along the child’s journey through life.
Back to the phone call… I can’t remember much as I am writing this almost a year after said conversation. What I do remember was the first thing Richard told me Ruth my godmother had passed almost 10 years prior of Alzheimer’s. That broke my heart.. Oh how I now wished I had written when I first stumbled upon it.. But it was not meant to be I guess. I am grateful Richard spent a good amount of time chatting with me and catching me up on their lives over the last almost 50 years since I had last seen them. They seemed like lovely people and had a nice life together along with children and grandchildren.
I believe a week or so later was the 10 year anniversary of Ruth’s passing and I sent a text to Richard with a kind message of remembrance and sent pictures of me from childhood to present. I had told him I remembered some photos of a birthday of mine and I know I had pictures of them. I did finally find those pictures but I only had the one above of me and Ruth.
I hope she is happy up in the universe that Richard and I were able to connect and I feel at peace and have closure on a small part of my life that took a big mental space in head all these years. I wish things had been different, I wish they had been a part of my life, I wish she lived longer, I wish many things but they are what they are and I feel I can close this chapter of my life story and feel it ended as it was meant to.
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