My father was adopted at two months old, from a family of four children already to a doctor family without a child. Being the only child for twelve years before my uncle and aunt joined the family, dad was deeply loved by his adoptive parents. The love was enriched with the joy of having two younger siblings. My uncle and aunt respected my father and considered him as the dominant man in the family, especially after 1949, the year since which many people’s lives had changed in mainland
Dad didn’t know his true background until 1966. After many years of being contacted and asked by his biological family, eventually his adoptive parents were forced to release his information. Both families had provided him different stories about his adoption, which he had never wanted to confirm. I didn’t know I had another grandma until 1974 when my biological grandma visit our family, accompanied by my father’s younger biological brother. That was the first time as well as the last time my father met with his biological mother. Later, one of his older brothers visited dad when I was away in college. My father never had chance to see his biological father and only met with two of his five biological siblings. For an understandable reason, dad didn’t want to visit his other hometown and he never made the trip. I once tried to push him for more stories in curiosity, but was never able to get satisfied answers. I know he emotionally considered his adoptive parents as his only parents and had been sending them money on the monthly basis till they both passed away.
