Why Finding My Birth Father Has Changed My Life
Even though I will never meet him
When I found Carole (my birth mother), she gave me my father’s name and two old black and white photos. One was of him, cheeky smile, wink on his face and leaning on a veranda rail. All bravado looking. The other photo was of him in his work uniform, standing in front of the bus, sign barely readable. Dalbert John Kingi, that is the name of my birth father. He didn’t even know I existed and this was rather terrifying. How do I knock on the door of someone’s life and announce that I am your daughter, who you knew nothing about? Surprise!
I was heading up to Auckland, to meet my friend Treena and as I didn’t really have much information to go on, I wondered if it was really possible to find him. On the plane, I looked at the quick selfie I had taken in the cafe with Carole and myself. She was reluctant, I was insistent. The photo seemed funny to me, I have dark curly hair, dark brown eyes and olive skin. Carole has blond straight hair, a pale complexion and bright blue eyes. I have a smile on my face, Carole is almost scowling (probably trying not to). She seemed a little terrified by the whole encounter, I guess it was a sudden crash landing in her ordered life. Especially difficult as I was still a secret to all her family. I looked at the photo and decided I must have thrown more…
