As a child, holidays often involved only dinner with my family—just my mother, father, and myself. I’d remain seated at the table as expected before quickly heading over to a friend’s place to partake in their festive celebrations.
As an
only child
, family didn’t form the bedrock of my existence like it did for many of my peers. Let me clarify: I cherished my parents, and our relationship was strong. However, ours was not a large clan. My mother had no siblings, being an only child herself, and my father remained disconnected from his elder brothers due to past conflicts.
However, following my mother’s passing in 2005, my father and I grew close as best buddies. We spoke daily; usually these conversations lasted less than two minutes each — simply long enough to catch up and learn about his evening meal. After every New York Rangers match, we would exchange texts. During holidays, he attended my wife Jennifer’s family get-togethers with us.
One month following his demise in 2018, I got a message on X querying whether I was kin to Joan and Wally.
My parents?
I thought.
Of course
I verified that I was indeed their nephew and discovered that the sender was a cousin from my father’s lineage. The unexpected intensity of my reaction to Dad’s passing had left me somewhat off guard, making the prospect of reconnecting with someone tied to him feel like a glimmer of hope amidst my sorrow. We set up a brief telephone conversation that went rather uncomfortably for about 20 minutes, promising to stay in contact moving forward. It wasn’t quite the heartfelt homecoming I had envisioned.
However, the discussion did pique my curiosity: Maybe there were more relatives out there with whom I could share a stronger bond.
On
23AndMe.com
However, what caught my attention right away was how unfamiliar all the names seemed; none of them felt recognizable, including the surnames.
I felt my thoughts spinning. There was a mysterious aspect about my parents. Our telephone number has never been listed publicly. Whenever we placed orders for pick-up meals, we would use another name—typically Matthews—a twist on my middle name. In the past, I attributed this quirkiness to their peculiar habits; however, recently, these behaviors made me question whether they might be masking more profound secrets.
I opted to reach out to what seemed like my closest relative—a person whose profile indicated they shared nearly 25% of their DNA with me according to the website. Crafting each word meticulously took several days as I kept the draft open; I wanted to avoid appearing overly eager. A short time later, I received an answer. She introduced herself as Anna. Right away, she wondered whether our link traced back through her dad, whom she hadn’t known personally. This got me thinking about various scenarios: Could Wally be responsible for having another child who turned out to be Anna’s father? Alternatively, might my own father have secretly sired a girl who became Anna’s mother? It felt clear to me that I’d cracked the mystery, convinced that Anna must be my niece. Perhaps this was finally proof of something I’ve long suspected but could never confirm—that some hidden truth lay buried between my parents’ lips.
One day Anna shared with me a tale about her mother, who passed away when Anna was only 11 years old.
relinquished an infant for adoption
years prior to her birth.
As I began to respond, I paused and reread her message a second time. Then a third time. Repeatedly, with my mind wandering freely.
What if I were the child her mother decided to put up for adoption!?
What if my mom and dad…weren’t actually my real parents?
The secret comes unraveled
Anna verified with her mother, Kathi, that she had given birth to a boy, and guessed his birth must have been sometime around January 1972 (since I was born in March of that same year). This swiftly turned into our latest hypothesis, suggesting that I am actually Anna’s brother.
I tentatively proposed that their findings might be confused with another person’s data or perhaps an error occurred at the laboratory. Since Anna had been using Ancestry.com, I swiftly purchased a testing kit from the same site to verify our outcomes. In the following couple of months, we exchanged numerous messages while waiting for the test results, which helped us discover additional details about one another. During this period, I took the opportunity to review all the family documents I had sorted out from Wally’s flat the previous year. Notably absent among these papers were any indications of potential adoption. Additionally, there weren’t any photographs showing me as a baby.
I sifted through all the available social media accounts related to Anna’s family and noticed distinct similarities between my appearance and pictures of Kathi and Anna’s cousins. There were moments when these likenesses were strikingly apparent.
Following what seemed like an interminable three-week period, the outcomes finally arrived, validating our hypotheses: I was indeedAnna’s sibling.
This triggered numerous questions for me. How was I unable to figure out that
I was adopted
In all my 47 years, how could I have been unaware of this information? What measures were taken to keep such secrets hidden, and for what reason? With the revelation about my mother, questions arose: Who truly is my biological father?
Anna’s family recalled the connection that resulted in Kathi’s pregnancy many years earlier. Though not sure, they speculated that his name might have been Jack and that he worked as a bartender in 1971 on Long Island, New York.
I examined more links for potential hints. With the scant information I possessed about Jack, I approached a recently discovered cousin and inquired whether she knew anything about him. Her response left me speechless: not only was Jack alive but also remained based in New York City; moreover, he had spent over three decades acting professionally. Shocked, I visited IMDb expecting nothing extraordinary—and ended up astonished at what appeared before me. Jack often played supporting roles such as bartenders, doormen, taxi drivers, among others, across various television shows, films, and advertisements. It completely took my breath away.
Although we had never crossed paths, I recognized his face from numerous appearances on TV series such as “The Sopranos,” “The Americans,” “Boardwalk Empire” and “Law and Order.” His visage also popped up in films including “Men In Black,” “The Yards,” and “Requiem for a Dream.” Additionally, he featured in frequent commercials promoting the New York Lottery that played during New York Rangers games — broadcasts which my friend Wally religiously watched back in New Jersey.
In time, I obtained Jack’s telephone number from his sibling, who I had similarly established contact with.
I made the call, and a friendly voice enthusiastically picked up. This marked the first time I spoke directly with my biological father. Instead of pouring our hearts out emotionally, we conversed like two adult strangers meeting at a local pub. I shared details about myself, including where I grew up, and he reciprocated. He mentioned having been married twice and being a dad to seven additional kids—making me number eight. Just six weeks prior, I was an only child following the loss of both parents. Suddenly, I found myself part of a large family; not only was my father very much alive but also revealed himself to be a famous actor.
In just a short time, he introduced me to my birthmother, Kathi, along with their past together. At the time, she was quite young; it had been nothing more than a brief affair. Her parents persuaded her to put me up for adoption, which must have been an extremely difficult choice for her. We discussed my adopted parents, and soon enough, I understood that they were truly the protagonists of this narrative. The reason behind keeping my adoption confidential remains unknown to me, yet I am deeply thankful for all that they’ve done for me.
Meeting my new family
Several weeks passed, and then I journeyed to Connecticut to see Anna along with my local aunts, uncles, and cousins, an encounter that stirred up many feelings among everyone involved. It seemed as though I had visited this place previously because spending time at Aunt Mimi’s house made me feel right at home. Later, brimming with excitement, I contacted Jack to recount the highlights of my travels, and we set plans for him to host our first personal meetup just a couple of weeks henceforth.
My spouse and I embarked on a two-hour journey from our home in New Jersey, keeping an eye on the GPS as it updated our estimated arrival time progressively. As soon as I arrived at the residence, I caught sight of my dad for the very first time outside of television shows and cinema scenes. It was just like how I experienced warmth and acceptance with Anna’s kin, including Jack and his partner, Margaret. We acted like longtime buddies when we uncorked several bottles of wine together. Besides being relatives, we discovered numerous mutual interests in areas such as music, movies, and metropolitan New York life.
Over the past five years since our meeting, I’ve maintained contact with every member of my newfound family and even connected with my brothers and sisters. Together, we’ve experienced the happiness of births, the grief from losses, and the joyous occasions of family weddings which were absent during my upbringing.
I’ve managed to effortlessly unite both branches of my family on several occasions, which has enriched my personal narrative. My expanded clan includes an array of relatives from all corners. It dawned upon me that my genetic makeup played just as significant a part in shaping who I am today—my traits and character—as the environments I grew up in. This realization strikes home whenever tales surface about my mother’s captivating charm or when I catch myself mimicking my dad’s dramatic gestures.
I’ve developed a new appreciation for my adoptive parents as well. For reasons unclear, they carried this secret to their deaths. They took me in and provided me with an amazing life that I might not have had otherwise.
I can’t stop thinking that perhaps if I had known sooner, I might have been able to meet my mother. However, I am thankful for having found my new family—and the raucous joy I always longed for during those many years past.
The article was initially posted on
SofTech
