I am sure everyone feels it from time to time that hole in your heart that just can’t be filled. Soon as I knew I was adopted I would always look at other kids wondering if there were maybe my siblings. I expected them all to look like me but would in later years figure out that some of them look like my Grandmother, with blonde hair sometimes with a bit of red, blue eyes, or my Grandfather who had black hair and brown eyes. Of course I am sure there are bits and pieces of my bio mother’s family in there but I really don’t like to think much about that part. I grew up with my bio father’s side so I tend to talk about them a bit more, mainly out of comfort level.
I always felt like a part of me was missing, and nothing quite ever made that feeling go away. I was loved unconditionally from my parents, and they tried to give me everything they thought I needed. I often wonder if I would have had that feeling of missing something if I hadn’t known I was adopted. I am told that even before I found out, I would ask if I had a twin somewhere, and my mom kind of knew from that sooner or later I was going to figure it out on my own anyways.
Things helped a bit when my brother, and then my oldest sister came in and out of my life, but also left me wondering, why God had spared me so much pain and left my brothers and sisters in turmoil, or a state of limbo. I know now that I did have pain just a different kind of pain. I always felt like part of me was missing and that part was them. I don’t think I have ever gone down the line of kids in our family. So I will take a moment to do that for you. There is my half-sister who my bio mother had, my oldest sister, my oldest brother, my next brother (he had a twin as well), then another sister, then a brother, a sister, me, then a younger sister and brother. That makes 10 plus the twin, and another maybe 2 twins making us 13 all together. I was once told there were 14 of us but I can’t fit that number in there anywhere from other sources.
When I had finally thought I had a hold of my life and where I was going something came along and opened up the door once again into my dark past. That night after my parents had turned in for the evening, I was still up doing homework, when the phone rang. I got up answered it and someone on the other line asked by name for my biological mother. I said she didn’t live here and promptly hung up. I remember wondering why would someone be calling here for her. Our number was listed under my Father and Mother’s name. By this time in my teen years I had heard pretty much all of the stories about my bio family from my family, and anyone else who knew them, so hearing her name did not bring good feelings to my heart. So a few minutes go by and the phone rings again.
When I picked up the phone it was the same person who asked me if I knew her, I said yes she was my Aunt. She then asked about my bio father, I said I knew him too he was my Uncle. She then asked if I knew how to reach them. I told her I didn’t but I am sure my parents could but they were sleeping could she call back. She then said that would be fine, and that she said she was trying to find her bio parents. My jaw dropped open and I blurted out, then we are sisters, who are you? She told her name and I said yes you are my sister I am Pamela.
Well what should have been a short conversation turned into a long conversation. We talked for hours, and over the years to come she would call, and we would write letters back and forth to each other. Oh my there was so much we had in common. blonde hair, blue eyes, we were both good in school, we liked the same kind of things, and had the same set of goals we wanted to accomplish during our lives. That day would mark a bit of my heart being put back together. She had found me my sister who is a little over 2 years older than me.
Siblings Separated a True Story 
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