A thought that haunted me since I was about eight years old has stayed with me ever since. I had either a vivid dream or more likely overheard a remark that I wasn’t supposed to. Whatever the source, I often perceived part of me was missing. It wasn’t physical but more eerie than that.
At that time I was able to put all the pieces together. I was born a twin but the other entity was never seen, heard of, or talked about. As the years whizzed by, questioning of my parents persisted but as for a clue, there wasn’t one. It was a feeling like someone who lost a leg and still had a phantom feeling of it.
Twins are born with a lifelong attachment. I felt a bond with this missing twin sister that I believe had been tampered with the moment we were born. The best I could do was have her as my make-believe friend and my best buddy until we could be united in the future. We had much to discuss and agree about. Isn’t that what happens with twins?
I can’t imagine my parents giving up a baby because of economic reasons or because she wasn’t as nice looking as myself. The closest explanation I could drum up was someone close to them desperately wanted a baby and this was their only and last hope. My parents knowing twins were on the way must have made a charitable offer of forfeiting one of us. It would happen in seconds and never again would this secretive split-up be spoken of. For me, I didn’t enter the picture until later, and even then it was only my instinct.
I tried to engage the OPP into mounting a search using their contacts and sources. They were sort of empathetic but couldn’t get involved without even a shred of evidence on my part other than, “I think I have a twin sister ….” I couldn’t give up the chase, next trying to get somewhere with local genealogists. Birth records at the Belleville General Hospital were scoured too but mysteriously there was only one birth on that particular day. It was mine.
Of course my best hope was talking to the most elderly people around. Sometimes one of them that would know of a secret, keep it to themselves but with some subjective prodding might spill the beans. But no, nothing was forthcoming from any of them.
After schooling was completed, I lived and worked in cities like Ottawa, Hamilton and Toronto. They furnished more opportunities to check on all victims of violence, of cancer and other illnesses over time in case my sister wasn’t as fortunate as myself in these aspects. I don’t have a definite picture of her in mind as I have no idea if we were identical twins or not. I know though I have distinctive family traits that my other siblings have too. I look for these when I’m scanning people almost continuously. If I suspect a likeness I will address that person in a casual manner.
I met others in my quest who were seeking the whereabouts of a lost sibling as well. I was attentive to all the sad stories, as there might be a tip-pointer I hadn’t put into practice. We easily shared our methods of searching and our disappointments too as if they were typical cold cases. It seemed that our search had become a part of everyday life, without interfering with careers and major decisions. Many had photos to pass to me. I wished I had one to exchange. It was the steadfastness we all shared that kept us going.
I had long ago put the matter to rest with my family, relieving them greatly instead of wrestling with them for information, especially my mother – the only one who knows for sure. I’ve become a truth-seeking creature of the night, fearful only of failing myself and my twin sister. Some say she is only an apparition of my mind – I don’t listen.
Being twins I wondered if our timelines would intersect somewhere someplace. A happenstance such as that gave me a sliver of hope and perseverance to keep exploring.
There are brief moments upon glancing into a storefront window that the outline of a shadow contours my image. I know it’s my twin sister signaling me not to ever give up.
