Almost twenty years ago my older sister pulled me aside one day (I was in my twenties at the time) and told me something very shocking; The man I had called Dad my whole life was not really my biological father. She said Mom had an affair which I was the result of. No one else in the family would confirm or deny her story, so I really did not know what to believe. I did have a faint memory of this man coming over to see Mom when I was a small child. I really liked him because he would lay me on the floor and tickle me.

Some time later I was looking at old family photos and started noticing that my older brother and sister looked very much like the grandparents on Dad's side I never knew. I did not look anything like them. Still, nothing ever really clicked in my mind.

Last Thanksgiving morning we got a dreaded call from my Uncle that Dad had passed away peacefully in his sleep in the nursing home. We postponed our Thanksgiving plans and went to be with Mom that day, she lived about an hour's drive away. The next day we had his funeral. At Mom's request only close family attended. My Uncle delivered a beautiful eulogy and my Aunt played piano. His closed coffin was adorned solely with an American flag, he had been a WWII veteran.

The man I called my father had always been there for me when I needed him. We weren't as close as Mom and me growing up, but he took good care of us.

This past summer Mom was admitted to a nursing home as well. It was then that my sister started bringing up questions about my biological father again. I wondered why would she do this now, when we were already going through hard times? I wasn't sure if I was really ready to know. She assured me she had gotten in touch with this man's sister, an Aunt I had never known. She lived in the same town and arranged a meeting.

My sister and long lost Aunt came to my house. They also brought a baby with them, my Aunt's grandchild. She came up to me and hugged me and said she had waited so long for this moment. They came inside and she showed me pictures of her brother, my real father. She said she knew I was his the moment she had seen me as a baby.

I remembered his smiling face from the pictures she showed me. Gradually, I began to remember more.

There was the time I got a pencil out of his pocket and accidentally stuck it in my neck. We lived right next to the hospital and he carried me in his arms, rushing to make sure I was alright. To this day I have a mark on the back of my neck from that incident.

I don't remember a lot about him. My brother and sister now both tell me he was a wonderful person. They remember him fondly. I felt cheated I had not gotten to know him better. (He passed away years ago) He was the sheriff of the town we lived in at the time and well thought of.

Mom worked for the sheriff's department, that is how they met. Still, I could not reconcile with myself how hard this must have been on my Dad. This was an affair that lasted over many years, with a public figure. Not much attempt was made to hide it and they were both married to other people.

At first I was angry at both of them for being unfaithful, even though I nor my kids would be here if they had not. My brother and sister both told me I really was lucky, I'd had two Dads, both wonderful people who had loved me.

Mom finally admitted the affair to my teenage daughter, but not to me. I began to wonder what finally ended it. Perhaps it was hard for my biological father to give me up. I'll probably never know the answers to some of my questions, or all the circumstances surrounding my birth.

But still, I want to dedicate this post to both my Dad's; one gave me life, the other gave me a life. Thanks, Dad.