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For many years I was completely opposed to searching for my birth parents. In my mind, I had one set, my adoptive parents. I began dating a Psychiatrist. He stirred up my curiosity again. Prior to the world of computers, I conducted my own search in the NYC public library's genealogy section. At a stand still with what I found, I hired an investigator.
At the end of four months, I walked into work and my phone rang. It was Barb and her voice was quivering. She began by saying, you're mother married your father and had two sons after your birth. I interrupted and said, "Barb, are you going to tell me my mother died?" "Yes, I'm so sorry," she said. "She died three weeks ago at 50 y.o. of lung cancer that spread to her brain. Your aunt died at 40 yo in a small plane crash with her husband at Teterboro Airport. Your birth father and maternal grandmother are alive. Your mother was Jewish, your father is Italian."
My head was spinning and I lost Barb's words after she uttered my mother was gone. For the next year, my life was a mess. I was never the type to accept a final "No." No! was out of the question for me but this, was a no win situation. I realized nothing in life was coincidence. I asked myself, why in all these years did my mother die in a time span of three weeks before meeting her. Why? Why? Why?
Each pain somehow brings new ideals and newfound understanding of our missions. This actually helped me and shaped me into who I am today. I know I will meet her one day. What's your opinion about coincidences? Cara