Bryan Byrne received a long-awaited call Dec. 17 that caused him to fall out of his wheelchair – literally.
It was something he’d been praying for every day for 38 years: A call from his son, whom Byrne had not seen nor heard from since he gave up his only child, who was just 7 years old then, for adoption.
And even though Byrne, a 67-year-old Gilroy resident, was diagnosed in 1995 with macular degeneration and is legally blind, his Jan. 2 reunion with Craig Faeth, now 45, was the clearest moment of his life.
“Having him call me was a total shock,” Byrne said. “This stuff only happens to a person once in a while – one in a million maybe.”
Faeth’s call and subsequent reunion at Byrne’s home in Pacific Mobile Estates on 10th Street marked the parting of dark clouds for a father who never expected to see his son again. Byrne was forbidden for almost four decades from contacting his son because of a court order that is now moot.
“I was just torn up having to give him up. I was out of his life,” Byrne said. “I could not look him up or anything; he had to get a hold of me. It felt like an eternity.”
In 1973, Byrne was given an ultimatum by a Santa Ana County Court judge: go to jail for not paying more than a year’s worth of child support; pay back that child support; or give Faeth up for adoption.
Byrne, who was separated from Craig’s mother, Cherie Faeth, and struggling financially at the time, agreed to sign the adoption papers, but only if he was granted 30 days to spend with his son.
A month later, Byrne signed the adoption papers, allowing Cherie’s second husband, Frederick Faeth, to adopt the young boy.
“I don’t remember a lot of things about my childhood,” Faeth said on Jan. 2. “Even that short hour-and-a-half phone call (on Dec. 17) brought a lot of things into perspective.”
At the time he was called into court for not paying child support, Byrne said he was routinely sending checks to his ex-wife, who supposedly moved from California to New Jersey. But according to Byrne, the checks kept getting returned through the mail. Byrne said he believes Cherie gave him the wrong address to limit contact with his son.
Approximately 38 years later, Byrne stood inside the hallway of his home, pointing proudly to three pictures of his son – pictures he’s kept framed since ever since giving Faeth up.
Byrne said he has paused by the pictures and said a prayer every day since parting with his child.
“I would say: ‘I love you, I’m not going to give up on you and one day we’ll meet. I hope that God takes care of you. In the meantime, God bless and goodbye,’” Byrne said, holding back tears.
When Faeth made the call last month, Byrne – who has been disabled since the 1990s, lost his second wife to illness on Dec. 28, 2012 and has no other children – was in the doldrums of major depression, according to Jaime Alatorre, a close friend and neighbor. Alatorre said he began to worry when Byrne wasn’t answering the door on repeated occasions.
“I came and knocked again and I asked him how he was doing,” Alatorre recalls. “I never expected him to say he’d been in a depression for months. Knowing that he’s tough, that really made me think about things. I asked God what must be done for this man to come out of his depression. I went outside and prayed.”
Whether it was Alatorre’s prayers, Byrne’s daily prayers or an urgent notion in Faeth’s mind to call his father, things took a turn for the better.
On Dec. 17, after enjoying his first conversation with Faeth in nearly four decades, Byrne said he threw away his anti-depressant pills.
“I went from the basement to the top attic all in one minute. I have been on a cloud and bananas since that afternoon,” Byrne said. “I called all my friends saying, ‘you wouldn’t believe it – it’s a total miracle.’”
Faeth, who lives in Washington just outside of Seattle, was supposed to start a new job in the beginning of January but chose to visit with his father instead. He’s married with two children of his own – a 7-year-old son and a 9-year-old daughter – and he’s been working as a private practice physical therapist since 2003, when he earned his master’s degree in physical therapy from the University of South Dakota.
His new employers “were more than happy to give me their blessing,” Faeth said last week.
“If they would have said ‘no,’ that would have been the wrong place to work anyhow,” said Byrne, beaming.
When Faeth called his father, he wasn’t even sure he had the right phone number.
“I just thought I’d be starting a process, you know,” Faeth said, adding he was expecting his father to say, “’yeah I’m your dad, but that was a different time in my life and I’ve moved on and you should too.’”
But “that was never the case – never,” Byrne said.
Making the decision to come to Gilroy was one of the easiest Faeth’s ever made – and the most emotional. On the two-hour drive to the Portland airport, he started to tear up after the first 45 minutes.
“I was reading while I was on the plane, not thinking about it, but as soon as I got off I was holding them back all the way until I got to the terminal (of the San Jose Airport).”
“You knew it was me right away?” Byrne asked.
“Right away,” assured Faeth, who, at 6 feet and 5 inches, towers over his father but has the same nose.
“Like a moth to a flame,” Bryne quipped, cracking a smile.
Since Faeth re-entered Byrne’s life Jan. 2, the two have shared hugs, tears, memories and even inquiring letters to relatives they had previously written about each other.
Before Faeth left Saturday, Byrne snuck a personalized photo album into his son’s backpack, along with a check for $5,000. Byrne said he hopes his son will use the money to change his last name back to “Byrne” – a costly process – or to buy something for the grandkids and take his wife out for a nice dinner.
Back when the judge granted Byrne one last month to spend with his son 38 years ago, Byrne said he immediately quit his job in order to pack a lifetime of memories in the span of 30 days. He got a professional picture of Faeth taken the same day he gave him up – Aug. 11, 1973.
“My brain says to me now, ‘there’s no need for that memory,” Byrne added, referring to the profound sense of loss he felt that day. “Get rid of it. You’ve got to leave a little bit for something new.”
Faeth will be back this summer, Byrne said. And since his visit, the pair have talked on the phone every day.
