No, I didn't find them. I wasn't searching for them ~ they were searching for me.
They were searching.
For me.
For 34 years.
The story of how we got separated is tragic and fucked up. It makes me feel a distant sense of anger and a good deal of sadness. I won't tell our private story, but suffice to say it was basically internationally sanctioned kidnapping.
It makes me feel a little happy to know I was always loved & wanted, and that they never have up hope. It's amazing how that scrap of knowledge can hold up a person's soul.
If you haven't experienced this circumstance, there's no way to explain how it feels. I will not try. I could say I feel this or I feel that, but they're just words. Normally I'm pretty good with words, but for this they seem so powerless.
