After a few DNA tests, many weeks of waiting, and more lost nights of sleep than I care to count, my biological father has been found. It’s been about a year since I found out who I thought was my father was in fact not, so, it’s been a long emotional year of ups and downs. And you’d think I’d be ecstatic finally knowing, finally being accepted, and finally having a father, but I haven’t felt that way since finding out.
Maybe it’s all that’s going on in the world right now (COVID-19), generally being depressed the last few months, and feeling pretty lonely have clouded what would otherwise be joy at the fact that I found him. Now my thoughts are filled with the idea that it’s too late, I’m 48. Maybe his family won’t accept me; I may never even meet his family for all I know. They are far more important to me than I am to them I’m sure. I don’t say that to be negative, it’s just a truth.
I don’t know what to do from here; I’m kind of lost. I don’t want to intrude on anyones’ lives, but I would love to know my father’s side of the family.