Michael Anthony DeFea, my birth father.
Born: January 27, 1958
Died: November 16, 2019
Memorial Service (Pierre): November 21st
Funeral Service (RC): November 22nd
Cancer survivor (20+ years), avid stamp and coin collector, hunter/fisherman, geological engineer, grandfather.
Favorite things: Ramsey, muscle cars, Texas Hold 'Em, Italian food, NOTRE DAME.
After a second diagnosis with [three different types of] cancer (extremely rare), Mike fought hard for every minute, but lost the battle.
We were lucky to have had the opportunity to know him. He was a helluva guy.
Being an adopted child, I'm quite certain it is natural to "wonder" about your birth parents - who they are, what they look like, where they are now, etc - and I did from time to time.
I didn't need a relationship with my birth parents, but I wasn't opposed to one either. I was, however, extremely grateful for their sacrifice... the difficult and humble choice they had to make. I was also very curious as to who I inherited my funny little elf ear from, my skinny feet, and my fabulous sense of humor (*wink*). But, having the amazing Mom and Dad that I did, growing up, it wasn't a priority to me to meet either of them (mostly for not wanting to hurt my family's feelings - they were a gift from God).
But, in the Spring of 2006, I was about to turn 30. I realized I was getting older and needed to know if there were any strange ailments or genetic/hereditary medical issues that could be passed down to me or that I should watch out for. Going into the doctor's offices every year, saying "I don't know" when they asked me about my medical history did prove to be frustrating after the [seemingly] 200th time.
I was living in Sioux Falls at the time. A friend had convinced me to just do it... figure it out once and for all! So, I went to Lutheran Social Services to look into my adoption. They told me the records were sealed and I would need to go to the courts to have them unsealed. However, they had some interesting news for me; my birth father had left a message in my file; he wanted to let me know that he had colon cancer. And, he left a phone number!
Of course I was shocked... and excited... and scared. Once I left LSS, I called the number. It was a Rapid City number.... and... it had been disconnected. My heart sunk... and ached. In my head, my thoughts were that my birth father had died and I missed the opportunity to meet him! He had wanted to meet me and had been waiting for me to contact him! But, I was a few years too late. I mourned a person that I had never met... and thought I would never get the chance to know and ask my questions. I was emotionally overwhelmed and burst into tears.
But, I kept pressing. Maybe he still had family in the area. Maybe I could find out more from my birth mother. Maybe... so many "maybes". I pressed on like a little soldier.
I went to the courthouse to file a petition to have my court papers unsealed. Ah yes, paperwork! There was quite a bit of paperwork. After waiting (rather impatiently) for two weeks, I received a thick envelope in the mail with my [now unsealed] adoption records in them.
The papers told me the names of my birth parents, plus a lot of information about them (at the time they made the choice to give me up for adoption in 1976). They were in high school. Mike loved electronics and hunting and fishing. Birth Mom Darla was an artist (like me!!) and loved English (like me!) and sewing (fell short there - should have learned from Grandma Myrtle!!!).
The papers also documented my birth parents, Orin and Karen. They told of my Mom's bright and shining personality and my Dad's more reserved and contemplative nature, that "complemented" my Mom wonderfully. It spoke of my brother who was a "handsome little boy" and that the family was stable and would be a wonderful loving home.
More tears. So much history! I felt the emotion from every angle - my birth Mom and Dad and their angst or emotions for carrying a child to term and then giving it up; my beautiful Mom and Dad who raised me, yearning for a little girl to love, and my older brother anticipating a younger sibling.
From there, I started going through the phone book (online), starting with Birth Mom's last name, hoping to find someone who may have known her or been of relation. Unfortunately, her last name was very common. And (unknowingly at the time), I didn't have the correct town she would have been from. After about 50 calls to people with her maiden name, I stopped; I wasn't having any luck at all.
Birth Father had an usual last name; one I had never heard before. I thought that perhaps I could find his family and learn more about him. Interestingly, after a very quick Google search, I found his name as part of recent minutes from a state meeting. I tracked down where this man worked and I called it. They told me he had gone home early for the day. Letting the receptionist know it was imperative that I speak to him, she told me to call his house and said he was listed. I found the number. I was at work. I ran outside to the balcony and made the phone call. I was trembling... sooo close! A gentleman answered. I asked him if he was Mike DeFea. He replied, "Who wants to know?!" Unsure if he was joshing with me or serious, I told him that I thought he was my birth father. Then.... he happily exclaimed.... "I KNEW it was you!"
Tears of emotion...relief... he was alive! The rest... is history. (And, he put me in touch with my birth mother, but that is story for another time.)
I was with Mike, caring for him, until the very end, happy and honored to be able to do so, by his side.
I'm pleased and very grateful to have had 13 1/2 years of knowing Mike and having him be a part of our lives. He became a grandfather, a friend/confidant to me and my family, and he was able to see what had happened to the baby girl he and Darla gave up... all those years ago. Rest in peace, Mike. You were/are loved and you will be missed.
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