The first letter I had to write, was probably the most difficult. It was simply a letter to a man who was supposed to be my Uncle Ken*. I was unsure what to say, and I was terrified of saying the wrong thing. Something that would negate a response.
The only tip my searcher gave me when writing the letter was to be sure and include a self addressed stamped envelope for an easy and quick reply by the recipient. That was easy enough to do, but it was what to say that was so difficult.
I wound up writing the letter, making it quick and brief and explaining that I am the biological daughter of Robin Smith* and that I was looking for her, because all my life I’d wondered who my biological mother is.
It was excruciating after the letter went out. I must have checked the mail daily. Although it was only about a week, it seemed like an eternity. I worried about it constantly. What if he never responded. I drove my searcher Bret, crazy. I wanted him to run new searches and pull new information and he just kept telling me to have patience.
And then, on February 24, 1996, a letter came in the mail addressed to me in my own handwriting. This was it! The letter I’d been waiting for. What would it say? Where was she – did he know? Was he glad I contacted him?
And every question was answered in mere seconds.
Dear Nicole,
Your two year search for your mother is just about over. You must of done your home work well and your diligence will soon pay off. As you probably already know, Robin is my sister.
I was stunned. I was elated. I was crying before I got past the “Dear Nicole”.
The rest of the letter detailed a little of my mother’s past, and told me about my Uncle Ken and his family. It also lightly explained why my mother had “vanished” away from her father. He promised to contact my mother and see where she wanted to go with it.
He also told me he believed that God had played a role in all of this and that there was a reason I had gotten so far in my search. He explained that all my mother’s life, because of abuse she had suffered, she had trouble getting close to people and if she suspected it was happening, she would disappear for months and even years.
That scared me to death. But it was also a realization I had to come to. I had to realize that she might not want contact. Just because one person said she might, did not necessarily mean she did.
So then, all I could do was wait. Wait and see if she wanted to see me, hear from me. If she cared at all. That was worse than the letter!
Until one day, the phone rang….
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*Names have been changed to protect privacy