Growing up, I was the oldest of three girls. My mother and father had me, and then almost four years later, my little sister Zoe. They later separated and my mother married Ed, my Step-dad. They had my youngest sister, who is ten years younger than me, Mackenzie.
I guess you could say on the outside my family looked like any other split-parent family. I had two of almost everything, split my weekends between my moms and my dad’s, and rotate holidays.
As I got older, I stopped seeing my dad on a strict schedule and spent more time at his house, just because.
My friends and I would take the GO Train out to his place (two towns over) and spend the weekend out there. I was during one of these weekends that my friend Brittany and I were talking to him about half-siblings.
A little backstory: Brittany had just found out her brother, who they were under the impression was her father’s son–was not. He was actually her half-brother.
It was during this conversation, in 2005 that my father jokingly said, “who knows, you may have a half-brother out there somewhere”.
Flash forward nine years, my sister, Zoe, just came home from a trip down east to our family property in New Brunswick. She comes to me and says, “I just found out that we may have a half-brother named Charles, who lives in New Brunswick”, she then told me that dad told her he had “heard of” the rumor that he may have a son back in 2001.
I don’t think I’ve ever been more upset with my father than I ever have been in my life. How could he of kept this from me, from us. We had gotten so close, yet I felt that he broke that down with this one secret.