A day never goes by that I do not think of the son that I have never met.
Within a few days, a couple came to see me and asked if I would like to come live with them so I could finish high school.
Sadly, Ginny was packed and left soon thereafter never to be seen by me again.
I loved Ginny as much as any teenager could love his girlfriend and was distressed to think I would never be able to see our baby.
Now I had fathered a baby and would never know him, never have the opportunity to hold him.
As the next two years passed, I graduated from high school and had been accepted at Florida State University.
The thought of my son being out there somewhere never left my mind.
I wondered, would he ever be curious about his birth father? After eight years of struggling, I finally graduated from college and moved to Atlanta, Georgia to attend graduate school at Georgia State University.
Again, not a day went by that my son was not a part of my consciousness.
By the time I graduated with my master’s degree and had been accepted into a doctoral program at the University of Southern Mississippi in Hattiesburg, we had our first son, Steve.
Not a day went by that I ever forgot about my son with Ginny.
I continued to think about him and wondered if he was well-cared for? Was he happy? What was his adoptive family like? Would I ever get to meet my birth son? I completed my doctoral training and settled into a professional career as a psychologist.
As the years passed, my kids became karate champions.
I wanted to give to my children the love, security and attention I never experienced as a child.
Now that my children are mostly grown and leaving for college, I cannot remove the question of what my first-born son must be doing now.
Before Diana and I married, I made a special point of telling her about my birth son.
In the early 1990’s The Home was preparing to celebrate their 100 year anniversary.
I had to decline the honor because I was just starting a position and could not get away at the time but, a few years later, I took Diana, and the kids to tour The Children’s Home so they could see my roots.
While there, I asked the director if I could place a letter in Ginny’s file, so that, if our son ever looked for her, he could also find me.
I have never received that knock on the door with a young man standing there to tell me I am his birth father.
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