On Wednesday evening my birth father, Robert Whitmore, lost his decade long battle with lymphoma. Unfortunately, I did not know him very well. I am adopted and had never known my birth parents. Robert and I met a little over two years ago after I completed a short film I did about searching for and finding my birth parents.
Ever since I found Robert and Tahme (my birth mother) I have given a great deal of thought to the nature of family and what it means. In all honesty I have not come up with any answers, only more questions. Once I had Ben, my questions just increased. Robert introduced me to people as his daughter and referred to himself as my father. But this felt disrespectful to me for my parents who had raised me and basically done all the heavy lifting. Jim is my dad; Robert is my biological parent. But as an adult I know a bit about regret and that decisions and choices you make in your youth are not necessarily the ones you would make today.
Now that Bob is gone from this world, I know that I will never have the opportunity to really know him. I grieve that. But I am also so fortunate to have had the opportunity to know him and for him to meet Ben. He was a good man, with a big heart. He had a great deal of faith in God. I do not share this faith, but I am glad that it gave him such solace. He died with complete assurance that he was going to a better, more peaceful place. And when I think about how frightening it must be to leave this world, I envy him that. I will miss him and I will miss what might have been. But Bob believes that we will meet again. And perhaps we will.