Tomorrow I should have the results from my DNA test. I don’t even know how many this makes… Five? Six? I really don’t know and at this point, I don’t care. It’s been more than one and one is more than enough for anyone to have. These things shouldn’t be so common. These things shouldn’t be the source of so much pain and so many fatherless children. These things just shouldn’t happen. Ever.
I’ve been here before.
I’ve been here before more times than I care to remember or want to remember. It hurts. It hurts more than you can imagine unless you’ve been where I am. It hurts. But no matter how many times I’ve been here, it never changes. The agony of suspense. The anticipation. The fear. The hope. The optimism. The pessimism. Going to be bed knowing that tomorrow, you may have found the answers you’ve been searching for your entire life, or your entire life will be turned upside down and any hope you mustered up after being crushed and torn apart from the inside out each and every time before… It’s hard. It’s like Christmas in reverse. Instead of going bed anxiously awaiting the joy that morning will bring, you go to bed terrified of what morning will bring.
It never changes. It hurts just as much every time. I try to be hopeful, but in the past, that only made it sting worse. I study their pictures trying to find similarities that get my hopes up, only to realize I’ve poured so much of myself into this search I could see similarities between myself and a rock if I wanted to believe it was my father and that this cruel and agonizing wait was over.
Even worse, I don’t know what I’ll do in either outcome. If the results are negative, I guess I’ll do the same thing I’ve done every other time. Work my way through the terminals of grief. But if it’s positive? I don’t know what I’ll do. I’ve had so little hope throughout the years, or perhaps too much hope crushed, that it haven’t thought that far ahead. All of this effort and I don’t even know what I’ll do when I finally find him.
So for now, we wait.