At 65-years-old, through a DNA test, I found out that the person on my birth cirtificate wasn't my biological father. At first, I was able to say to myself, 'No big deal,' then as time passed, it slowly ate me up. And it keeps gnawing at me.
See, the sperm that was to be me should have been ejactualated into the woman who was to be my mother, but instead found its way into a complete stranger to me. I often wonder what my life would have been like if it were played out like it should have been.
That stranger became my mother was married at the time of my conception. Things that had happened over the years suddenly made sense. These two were seperated and divorced two years after I came into the picture. Do you think he knew? I am convinced he did...he knew I wasn't his biological son. I don't remember his at all, just a few fleeting memories.
It turned out that my 'father' never told his brother about me.
When I would ask my 'mother' about my 'father' she would never call him by his name, thinking that if she used the term 'father' she wouldn't be lying.
So I did come close to finding out who this guy was, but he's dead and his grand-children won't take a DNA test for me, I think they lawyered up.
I have lived the wrong life... but then, maybe this was the way it was suppose to be, but... that doesn't help.
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