2001 was a really hard year for me. I had finished my first year and half in college and hadn’t done very well. Every course I took I was on the verge of failing even though I tried very hard in some of my classes it just wasn’t enough. I decided to transfer schools because I just couldn’t keep up. I felt like I was failing out. I had pledged in a fraternity and while it probably didn’t help academically it was my saving grace socially. I had lost touch with everything I liked to do. I was missing Carolina, my love interest all the time, and I just wanted to go see her again. Our relationship was a little…dysfunctional to say the least and it was really getting to me. Not only did she live in another country but she had a boyfriend. Sometimes I wonder what I was thinking. Needless to say it was not an easy time for me.

I went down to panama as usual for Christmas. I was really down and my family could tell. They tried to cheer me up as best they could but nothing really worked.

One night I was sitting outside looking at the star and my stepmother Miriam came to talk with me. We talked about some of the stuff we I was going through. Between her broken English and my broken Spanish I’m surprised we talked about as much as we did. She sat there dictionary in hand and comforted me as best she could.

I’m not exactly sure what we were talking about but I remember her telling me how much my family cared for me. She said Eva, Toto and Estefany grew up knowing about their brother who had been lost. Luis had learned through some friends that I had been adopted to America. He had no idea where in America but he was saving money to come look for me. Those words cut right through me and I broke down…they never forgot about me. Even though I was lost for 15 years they never forgot. I was completely overwhelmed by that.

I’m not sure why it meant so much to me and why it still does. Maybe it has to do with being adopted. One question that I think every adopted child asks him or her self at some point is why was I given up? Even if the situation was for the best you can’t help but feel like you were forgotten. So hearing those words was like an answer of my payers or something. I have no way of describing it.

Even now as I sit here reading my sister post about how my grandmother never stopped looking for me I’m overwhelmed by a feeling I can only describe as joy. However that does not even come close to the feelings that I have. To never be forgotten. There are no words. I have to be one of the luckiest people in the world. So many people are neglected and forgotten about. Not only did I have a wonderful family here in America but I also had a family in Central America that never stopped thinking about me, never stopped looking, and never stopped caring.

No matter how lost I was to them or even to myself they never EVER forgot about me…