The Three-Letter Word that Changed my Life.

Many people have told me that my story could be published as the next best-selling novel. As I sit down to write this first blog entry, I imagine I am experiencing what most novelists experience when they begin to write and later produce their works of art…”writer’s block.” Where do you start…the beginning? The end? Perhaps you start in the middle. Either way, the meaning of the story runs throughout all of these parts, so I will start with a simple, declarative sentence. In 2008, after a horrible automobile accident, I discovered that I had another father. A biological father. A father different from the man I call “Dad.”

Of course, my life was changed completely and…immediately. At the time, I was 23, living in Houston, Texas and living my life the best way I could. The accident left me unconscious and probably would have killed me had the ambulance arrived any later. I was life-lighted to Memorial Hermann and the rest is history. Waking up in the hospital after such a terrible car accident was mind-blowing in itself but the discovery of this fact almost gave me a heart attack. Or a stroke. Or both, haha. I had already survived one near-death experience; this information was about to become the second…all in a 24-hour period!

The question that eats away at me is, “Why then?” I was 23, well over an appropriate age to be told something of that magnitude. I feel that had the accident never happened, I may have never known. I feel angry, sometimes so deeply that I worry that it will become part of my character, which is something I will not allow. Most stories like this one unfortunately fall under a different category; my biological father and I were the only individuals who did not know. My mother and father knew from the day I was born. Because of this fact, a flood of emotions is constantly permeating this ongoing conversation. I know I’m not alone and that the  details about my story could have unfolded in a much more disappointing way. Even still, it is surreal to me. I think it always will be.

I’m not an orphan, I’m not adopted. I’m a daughter to two fathers, one of whom I just met. There is so much to tell. The term “unbelievable” is so literal when it comes to this story and I’m still trying to make sense of it all. I wonder how many people have experienced this. I wonder if there is someone out there whose story is just like mine. I am making it my mission this semester to find out. I have exhausted the search engines and online archives for statistical information but feel  I may only be scratching the surface. We shall see….

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