Finding my mother and father in Colombia, thanks to a chain of open hearts

Before leaving for Colombia, I was full of doubts and fear, but above all of an overwhelming need to know. Why had I been separated from my birth family? Why this emptiness, for as long as I could remember?

But I was not alone.

Oscar Ruiz, whom I think of as a big brother, helped me enormously. He knew people in Colombia, and his aunt lived in Yopal, in the department of Casanare, not far from where my family once lived. That aunt was a true angel on my path. She knew the region well, the people, the stories, the voices.

And thanks to her, something incredible happened: she contacted the local radio station in Casanare. She told them about a young man who had come from far away, looking for his mother and his father. And the radio broadcast my story. A simple message, but full of hope:

“A young man is looking for his birth parents. He wants to find his mother and his father.”

And that message travelled across the airwaves, the mountains, the villages. And that message reached my mother. She heard it. And she wanted to see me. My father too.

The first meeting – My mother. In a church.

When I arrived in Colombia, my heart was beating harder than ever. The first meeting was to be with my mother. I had believed she was dead. I had grown up with that idea. And now we were going to see each other. For the first time.

And it did not happen just anywhere. It was in a church. A place of peace. Of silence. Of faith. A sacred place.

And it was there that I saw my mother alive for the first time in my life. I cannot describe that moment in ordinary words. It was bigger than me.

I was trembling. I was frozen. My heart was bursting in my chest. She looked at me. I looked at her. And for a few seconds, nothing else existed around us. Just her. Just me. I was filled with joy, surprise, anger, release, tears.

But above all… I was finally whole.

Then I found my father.

With my father, it was a different emotion. Because I had lived with him for a while in the past. He was not a complete stranger, but we had been separated.

And that meeting, even if it was less of a shock than meeting my mother, was very powerful too. He saw me, and in his eyes I saw the past, regret, tenderness, and silence too.

But he was there. And I was there. And it was real.

A chain of human beings, a miracle of reunion

None of this would ever have been possible without those who reached out to me:

• My friend, Oscar Ruiz, that big brother of the heart, who supported me tirelessly.
• His aunt in Yopal, who believed in my story.
• The local radio, which gave a voice to my call.
• And finally, my mother and my father, who answered that voice.