Finding my biological father was the first part of my search. But there was still someone else I wanted to find: the older brother I had learned about through a photograph when I was a child.
A few years after finding my father, I continued tirelessly searching for my brother.
I started with his name and several phone books. I searched in the last place I’d been told he lived as a small child, using what I knew about the family he had lived with.
Unfortunately, I got nowhere pretty quickly. Those details gave me a starting point, but they didn’t lead me to him.
The search continued for quite some time. Then, about two years after he became an adult, I got lucky: I found a name that matched.
I decided to call.
First, I asked whether his name was the one I was looking for. His answer was yes.
Then I asked whether he had been adopted. He confirmed that he had.
I asked one more question that would help me confirm his identity. He confirmed that, too.
I had found my brother.
I was speechless. After all that searching, I finally had him on the phone—and I couldn’t find the words.
I handed the phone to my husband and ran to my mom’s apartment to tell her. Then I brought her back to my place so she could talk to him, too.
I had just given birth to my fifth child, and my brother had two children of his own at the time.
We decided to make a trip to meet him and his kids. The brother I’d first learned about in a photograph was finally someone I could meet in person.
Finding my brother marked the end of part two of my family search. I had found my biological father, and now I had found my full biological older brother.
There was still more family history to explore and more to discover.
More to come!