I sat down, quietly and soon my father sat opposite me. I had a thousand questions, and I realized, although I may have loved my mother in ways I couldn't explain before, that love was faded, and filled with hate.

“Tell me, I want to know,” I pleaded. I was supposed to be mad at him, despite everything around me and demanding an explanation, but I wasn't. I wanted to hear what he had to say, and the answer to my question.

“Your birth mother is alive and ….” He paused as he ...