This is regarding “Lost and found; Goose bumps broke out on my arms; Was it really him?” (Perspective, June 18), by Johnathon E. Briggs, Tribune staff reporter.
I read Briggs’ piece and had tears in my eyes when I was done.
I remember what it felt like when I found my birth mother. I was 34.
People who haven’t walked in our footsteps can’t comprehend what it feels like to be a little incomplete. No matter how much love and nurturing we may have been given by our “growing up” families, that little piece is still missing.
I always compared my need to know to a flowering tree. A tree can’t grow without roots.
Neither can a person.
And then that beautiful day arrives when our roots are finally planted. Spring has arrived and we blossom into completeness.
I remember my mother’s “first” Mother’s Day (I was her only child), and how she felt like a queen.
I’m sure that Father’s Day was also very special in Briggs’ family. My best to him and his dad. I hope they make every minute count.
