My two “sisters” are actually my daughters.
And the people I called my parents stole my youth, my chance to raise my children, and my entire past.
Every night, I look at the last photograph the three of us took together.
We’re all smiling.
We had no idea what we were about to discover.
And sometimes I wonder whether we would have been better off never taking that cursed DNA test.
But then I remember Susan’s words:
“They stole our past, Mom. But they can’t steal the years we still have left.”
That was the first time she ever called me “Mom.”
And for the first time, I understood how much a single word could hurt when you had spent your entire life waiting to hear it without even knowing it.
What would you have done in my place? Would you want to discover such a horrifying truth, even if it destroyed everything you believed about your life? Or would you rather never find out?
