Love Me Challenge: Day Eight


Share a scar

I have a scar on my right knee. I got it on Father’s Day 1998. My Dad and I were riding our bikes across a high school track–one that had that black rock/dirt mix, and I wiped out. My leg was bleeding so bad, there was blood everywhere! But of course, typical me (even at eight years old), I stubbornly refused to let my dad leave our bikes, and carry me home. He had just bought me this bike for Easter.

Side note: Instead of a shit ton of chocolate and candy for Easter, dad always got us some sort of gift, usually something that would get us active. Which, in hindsight is a pretty sneaky alternative for the candy. Good job dad.

So, I rode the whole way home (about a ten minute ride), and ‘saved’ my bike. Boy did I look like a mess when I got home. My dad’s girlfriend freaked out when she saw me and I had a bandage on my leg for weeks. Luckily nothing too deep, so no hospital trip for me.




Love Me Challenge: Day Five


A note to your past You

Keep your chin up, nothing is as bad as it seems right now. You will be able to distance yourself from home. Spend more time with the people you do care about, you’ll never regret that. Better days are ahead. You’ll meet a little boy that steals your heart before he even takes his first breath. Once he is in your life everything will make sense, I promise.


This is a dream that I did have
Thinking about my father
He’s the guy I have to thank
I wouldn’t be here
If I wasn’t his daughter

All these years go by so fast
I never stopped to say thank you
For giving me a life to live
A place to go
And a family that I will always know
For helping me along the way
How to get through
Every single day
For showing me how to survive
In the world we live in

SKThompson, 2003

Oh, Brother.

Alright. This may be a long one.

I’ll start where Family Secrets left off.

Obviously the first thing I do when I’m told of the rumor that I have a brother is look him up on Facebook. What did we do before the internet?

It wasn’t hard to find him, I knew his first and last name and that his cousin was friends with my cousin.

I started to creep his pictures–I needed to see if he was my brother, and somehow thought that I would just know if I saw the right picture. 

And then I saw the picture. And at that moment I knew, I knew that he was my brother.  


The resemblance is uncanny. This boy, whose photos I have just creeped on Facebook, who (at the time) may or may not have been my brother, looks quite like my cousin, Michael [see below].


I was so sure of our relation in that moment that I (internally) got quite angry when people would point out that a picture is not proof. 

I knew I couldn’t explain the feeling, so I kept my feelings in check and let my family and friends tell me that I shouldn’t ‘get my hopes up’.

Regardless, I messaged him. Nothing too weird, just a simple ‘Hey, this may seam weird, but I heard a rumour that Bruce Thompson (my dad) may be your dad too.’

He responded with ‘Yeah, I’ve heard that rumour, lol’.

From there we talked about the possibility of us being siblings, our feelings about it, and how to go about confirming it. Do you know how sketchy some DNA testing sites look? I never had a need for DNA testing so it was never something I’ve looked into before, but with a little research we set up an appointment for my dad and him to go in and get the test done.
We found out in October 2014 that we were officially siblings and I couldn’t have been happier. He’s a great guy, we’ve and our conversations have only gotten better. 

Although I only just got the chance to meet him this past July, and only got a couple of days to hang out (that’s a post for another day), I know that our relationship is only going to get better. 

Family Secrets.

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.