Someone Worth Finding: A Father Who Found Me

“I love you.” His voice reassured as he tenderly kissed my forehead. He had found me.

Hopeful imagination of my biological father. A time he was absent in my life. A girl can dream.

My being so young and the passing of time had a way of causing memories to escape. I had forgotten what he was like. I knew he was out there somewhere. And I hoped to be found by my father.

My mother’s hands were full with me and my twin sister. So, she scooped everything up—including us—and moved from Texas to her hometown in Virginia.

Soon we were fortunate to have a wonderful stepfather come into our lives. A man who cared for and loved us as if we were his own daughters. To this day, I’m grateful for him.

But I’d seen my birth certificate.

The document contained everything, with no empty spaces or blank lines. Every section complete and filled in with facts and x’s: names and numbers, places and times, signatures and dates.

Yet sometimes x’s only mark the spot where hurt dwells.

Line seven of my birth certificate held a name. But my life held a blank space and my heart an empty place. The place meant for a biological father.

And something caught my attention when comparing my birth certificate to my kid’s certificates years later. My children’s certificates of live birth list the mother’s name first, directly following child’s name.

However, my birth certificate from The Bureau of Vital Statistics, Texas Department of Health, lists the father’s name first, directly following my name.

To Know a Father

I wanted to know my father. Would I be a daddy’s girl? I wondered if I could sit in his lap or if he wore cologne. Maybe he would hoist me to his shoulders so I had a better view of animals at the zoo.