The universe has a way of knocking you flat on your ass from time to time. I’m still trying to pick myself up from the latest bombshell to be dropped directly into my lap.
When you’re 45 years old, it’s reasonable to believe that any family secrets would have been revealed long ago.
Up until two weeks ago, I was the oldest of three brothers. That’s the way it always has been. From my first day on this planet, I was the first child.
That was until two weeks ago.
Turns out, I have an older sibling, and no one ever bothered to tell me.
Here’s the story as far as I know.
In either 1964 or 1965, my dad and mom were just 18 years old in Fort Morgan, Colorado. They were teenagers. They were reckless. My mom got pregnant.
Now, even though this was the 1960’s, my grandmother was a very proper woman. She was very worried about what the neighbors think, so my mom was sent away to live with her sister in Albuquerque, New Mexico.
When the time came for my mom to have the baby, she went somewhere in Kansas to a Florence Crittendon Home to give birth. I don’t know which one.
I only found out about this when my cousin decided to break her silence. She wasn’t even supposed to know about my older sibling, but she happened to be at my grandmother’s house in Ft. Morgan about 12 or 13 years ago when this person’s wife called looking for my mother, Becky Brown. My mom answered the phone and told her that she had reached the wrong person, and that was the last anyone heard from them.
The only other piece of information I have is this individual was in the military at one point and lived near Seattle – at least for a time.
I’m not sure how I would start the search for my until now unknown older brother. My mom passed away in 2008. My grandmother died in 2003. My grandfather passed in 1987. Literal dead-ends.
I’ve talked to my dad, but it was clear this is something he didn’t know much about. When I asked him why I was never told about my brother, he said “Even when your mom and I were married, we didn’t talk about it.”
So, I’m stuck.
I’ve been told my mom said giving up my brother was the hardest thing she ever had to do. She didn’t want to do it. I think I owe it to him to find him, and at least let him know that. Maybe I owe that to her, even though she never told me about him. He’d be 50 or 51 now. I think that’s something he’d like to know.
He tried to find her once or, at least his wife did. Maybe they’re still looking. Maybe they gave up.
All I know is my search is just beginning, and I don’t know where to start.