I'll admit I hadn't given him a lot of mind space. Mary had called him "unkind" in the letters she had written me, and it was my understanding that he had learned she was pregnant with me, but chose to go back to his wife and children. That only led me to believe that his desire to be "found" was zero and my chance of being welcomed with open arms was even less than that. Given the rejection I had received from her, and the amount of time it had taken for me to recover from the hurt, I had decided I wasn't up for further disappointment. I tried to make my peace with the fact that my paternal line would always be a mystery to me--a withheld name on a birth certificate and people who would undoubtedly reject me anyway.
But DNA is an interesting thing. It can call to you and sometimes overrule your common sense. The need to know answers can be a powerful force for many adoptees. It isn't a need to "replace" what we know and love, but to find the pieces that everyone around us already have and sometimes take for granted: "Where did I get my green eyes from? How many children did my grand parents have? Where did their families immigrate from?" Until I knew my birthfather's information, I would never have the complete story, and unfinished business can keep you awake at night.
Of all my SAT scores, science was my lowest, by far. I mention that because as I started to research my DNA results on Ancestry, I felt like I was reading Chinese. My good friend Sherri, who had been instrumental in my searches and emotional support, would try repeatedly to help me understand it all but I could never quite grasp it. My eyes would glaze over and I felt like someone was trying to teach me quantum physics.
Eventually I became aware of a woman named Priscilla Sharp who was considered a "search angel"--a person who has a desire to help adoptees find biological relatives, without any charges for their time. Priscilla had a very firm grasp on DNA and when I contacted her to request her help, she and I spent several months going back and forth, discussing what matches I had, and piecing them together. She did all of the work, and when she finally found a match that was close enough to send her in the right direction, I was astonished at how quickly she was able to "deduct" with almost 99% certainty, who my birthfather was.
I received the email from her on August 11th 2018. My father's name was John.....and he passed away in 2006.
The next several months were spent scouring the internet for pictures and any information I could find. I immediately located all 6 of his children on social media, and took enormous delight in finding similarities between them, me, and my own children. I learned that my father's parents were from Ireland and Sweden, and that he had actually been married twice, having 2 children after me, as well as the four before me. (Ill admit I wasn't quite sure how I felt about no longer being the baby of the family---I had grown attached to the title.)
I spent many nights at the computer trying to find a "young" photo of him and when I finally found it---I saw my eyes, and a young man who looked full of hope for his future. I dont remember feeling sad that he was no longer living--I think I had long suspected he had already passed away--but I WAS disappointed to think I had 6 new half siblings that I would never know, because I had made the executive decision not to contact them. Their father was gone, and I would not be the one to reveal his "secret" to them.
But as it usually does, life had much bigger plans in store.
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