Meeting my sister was something I had never expected to do. Growing up as the only child of my adoptive family, the idea of siblings from my birth family were a hazy possibility – something I might have and people who might be out there. They might be older or they might be younger than me, if they existed at all.
With that sort of possibility being something which Scots law allows an adoptee to do nothing about until the age of 16, the idea was filed at the back of my mind. To do otherwise with these unobtainable branches of my tree would have brought me endless torment.
My sister discovery happened during my dad search. I was 27 years old. I’d just located my dad’s death certificate and was searching online for an obituary. I thought this would help me discover aunties, uncles and grandparents. Scrolling down the narrative, I leapt back from the computer as I found a comment which read “RIP Dad”.
“I have a sister” and “I am someone’s sister” were phrases which felt like intruders in my mind. Sisterhood was not part of my identity. I didn’t even know how to try it on. Was the path of sisterhood one which was open to me?
How close was my dad with his other child? Did they have a part in arranging his funeral? Where had all his personal things gone? Would they share photos of “our” dad with me?
I hope to share more about our relationship and my journey through adoption and reunion through this blog. What would you like to hear more about? What would you like me to write about next?
Scottish Adoptee 