Brave or Crazy

It's no secret I'm adopted; I'm fortunate that I have a lot of information on my birth family.  My (adopted) parents provided me with what they had and I've done research using the Internet and genealogy sites to fill in other gaps.  Quite a bit of my original search can be found Here and here.

I've written another letter or two to my birth mother, both have been returned unopened.  I have looked up her address on Google Maps, and have 'stalked' (in a totally non-creepy way) her in other fashions but have never met her, phoned her or attempted to contact her other than by letter. 

I have the obituary for John King Joyce (my birth father) and it's full of family information on his side; including a brother named Robert.  I looked up Robert several years ago (thank you Internet) and found his address; I have a phone number but decided against calling it.  I'm not comfortable on the phone and, I'd rather have an interaction -- no matter how embarrassing or uncomfortable -- in person than over the phone.  If they're going to slam the door in my face or be negative in some way, I'd rather take that in person than being hung up on by some faceless being across the phone lines.  Yes, I realize this is probably very strange and extremely crazy.

I decided that this trip to California would been the trip to 'just do it'; so I plotted the trip to the address. Nice area of California, near the Getty Center, well-maintained on the outside (I didn't take a photo).  Pulled into the driveway, parked the car, knocked on the door and stood back a couple of steps. 

A woman answered the door and was hesitant to speak to me; I asked if Robert Joyce was in, she asked if he was expecting me.  I responded that no, he wasn't but that I was the daughter of his brother, John.  She turned away from the door and went to speak to him, speaking loudly and repeating my name, asking if he knew me.  She returned to the door and I explained a bit more about who I was and why I was there.  She stepped away to talk to "his grandson" who said they didn't know who I was.  I asked to leave information and she accepted the hand-written sheet I gave her with name, address, phone number, birth date and some identifying information in case they wanted to contact me.  A young woman (I have no idea who) came back to the door and took the paper from me.  End of the adventure.

Possibly. I hope they attempt to make contact with me in the future, but even with all the information I have I will not contact them again unless they contact me.  It's not a deep seated need; more of a curiosity.

The first woman that answered the door was likely a live-in nurse.  The man she spoke to first could hear, but she raised her voice and spoke slowly so he is likely hard of hearing.  I'm assuming he's of semi-sound mind because she asked if he knew me or remembered me. 

The 2nd woman who came to the door was younger -- early to mid-20's -- and didn’t seem to be interested in taking the information I gave but took it nonetheless.  I have no clue if there was a family resemblance or not as I didn't get a good look at her and, to be honest I was pretty much internally freaking out.  It's been a long time since I've been that nervous -- I think the last time was when I was meeting Gordon for the first time.  

I'd still like to contact and meet my birth mother and my half-brother; but that will have to wait for another time and another moment of being brave.