My Late Foster Sister Left Me DNA Test Results That Destroyed Everything I Believed About My Family – Story of the Day
The night before July 4th, I lingered in my office, avoiding the holiday’s cheer. My boss, Michael, insisted I leave, tossing me a box of cookies and banning work for the night. Alone in the emptying city, I received a call from an attorney about my foster sister Cynthia’s will—she had passed away. Stunned, I drove to her small funeral, attended by just her foster mother, Ellen, her grandmother, and me with my dog, Mr. Jenkins. After the service, an envelope revealed a DNA test confirming Cynthia was my biological sister, separated at birth. Her letter explained her search for our father, who
couldn’t cope after our mother’s death. A photo of him with us as babies led me to a café in the suburbs. With the café owner’s help, I found our father. On his porch, I showed him the photo, and he broke down, regretting his decision to give us up. We visited Cynthia’s grave, laying flowers and promising to rebuild our family. That evening, we barbecued in his backyard, and for the first time, I wasn’t alone on July 5th, finally finding a home.
