My Very Own Unsolved Mystery - Solved!

Oprah and I have something in common.

This morning the news lit up with Oprah's family secret: that she had a long-lost half sister.

For those of you who may recall, I too discovered my own family mystery a little over a year ago that I never got a chance to conclude with readers.

After some back and forth communication over a few months' time between my dad and the young woman who could potentially be his long-long daughter, they finally went ahead with DNA testing. In early September 2009, it was confirmed that I have an older half-sister!

"Sister K" - as I'll refer to her - is an amazing person with an equally remarkable history!

As I had mentioned in a previous post, my dad did not have any knowledge of the birth of his first child all those years ago. Likewise, Sister K did not know the identity of her father until only within the past few years. She did not grow up with her biological mother, and was raised by folks who she had long thought were her relatives.

It wasn't until she reached early adulthood that she was reunited with her mother and began to reconnect with her blood relatives. Her mother's memory of our dad was a distant memory, but after some time, dad's name was finally revealed to her. However, Sister K's quest to search for her biological father wasn't one that she embarked on immediately. At the sage advice of her husband, she focused her efforts and emotion on rebuilding her relationship with the mother she never knew.

In 2009, Sister K gave birth to her 3rd child. When he was just a few months old, he suffered a serious allergic reaction that triggered a call to action in Sister K. The baby's physician inquired whether certain allergies ran in her family - but she wasn't completely sure, not knowing anything about her own father. Also, her two other children were smart, inquisitive little kids who were genuinely curious about their family history and cultural background. Sister K made every effort to tell them what she knew, but in her heart she wanted to know who that missing piece of her puzzle was, too. She began her own personal investigation and with determination and luck, eventually found the man who is her dad.

Although I was a part of this tale unraveling from our dad's side, it was all very surreal to me. The morning my dad called me with the DNA results, I had a moment of emotional relief, but the reality of it all still hadn't settled in. It wasn't until I met Sister K and her family on October 16, 2009 that feeling changed.

A notebook entry I made into my smartphone immediately after our visit that day, after we parted for the night, captured what Reunion Day 1 was like:

10.16.09 1846

This blog post is coming to you straight from the backseat of a rented Chevy, with my parents, driving through Tracy on our way down to Mountain View, CA. 

Today started for my parents and myself as a not so ordinary day. We woke up this morning knowing that our lives would converge on a new path together with people who were once virtual strangers. A plane ride into California's agricultural center and a few hours later, i found myself sitting at dinner with my mom, dad, and the older sister that I hadn't known existed until I learned of her earlier this summer. Her husband and adorable trio of children were company as well.

Have you ever met a stranger that you instantly clicked with, that made you wonder whether you knew them in a past life? This was one of those rare instances. It was like having dinner with family we merely haven't seen in years.

A couple of days later, my younger sister and her son traveled to join our reunion, and the chemistry between all family members was so natural. It truly was like hanging out with family we hadn't seen in a while.

I love having two sisters, and fully embrace my "middle child" status! It was so uncanny to learn how similar our personalities are, the experiences we've shared over the course of our upbringing, our same likes/dislikes, and just how close in proximity we lived to each other over the years. As much as I would have loved to have known Sister K as we were growing up, I wouldn't change a thing about how we have all come together. Sister K experienced a childhood filled with challenges that ultimately gave her strength, resiliency, and loving qualities. I don't know that many people who have walked a similar path as she has would turn out to be such a positive, beautiful person. She is certainly someone I look up to.

Happy Birthday, Sister K! Aloha nui loa <3

My Very Own Unsolved Mystery

What's funny about the story I am about to tell is that I just told one of my close friends that lately I've had this strange feeling that one of us would have the rug abruptly pulled out from under us. I am typically a positive person, as most can attest to, but I am cautiously optimistic when it comes to anything I come across in the course of my life.

Sure enough, at work on Friday one of our employees announced his relocation. Losing him bummed us out, particularly because business was running smoothly once he assumed a lead role. He executed his job above and beyond our expectations, and on a personal level we got to know him and ultimately grew a mutual admiration and respect for everything he did for us. We got over the sadness, however, since his move is a result of Vegas' horrible job market and his wife scored a sweet job in the Midwest. "That's life," I told him, pointing to the fact that I understood his situation and that although the situation is bittersweet for us all, it was a reality we accept. Certainly as adults we all come to the realization that life throws us curve balls, and it's up to us to deal with them the best way that we can.

Fast forward to Saturday morning, 10am. I'm cleaning my kitchen when I get my usual Saturday morning call from my mom:

Me: Hey, mom.
Mom: Hi, what are you up to?
Me: Just cleaning house. What do you and Dad have planned today?
Mom: We're going to a wedding later at 5. How about you? What are you doing today?
Me: I have a baby shower to go to, then a barbecue in the evening. Nothing too crazy.
Mom: Ok, well have fun.
Me: Of course, Mom.
Mom: Hey, one more thing. I have something to tell you...

Now when my mom says "I have something to tell you" it's usually pretty serious, so I stopped what I was doing and sat down.

Me: Ok, what's up?
Mom: You might have another sister.

My heart sank. I immediately jumped to the conclusion that my father, who I absolutely adore, had some adulterous affair that resulted in some love-child that was now attempting to encroach on my happy family. My blood began to simmer.

Me: Whaaat?!?

My mom clearly sensed my anger brewing.

Mom: Hang on. It's not like that. We received an email from a young woman asking if your dad was stationed in Hawaii in the early '70s. She is the daughter of a woman your dad was dating before we were even married.

Relief settled in, but was soon followed by pure bewilderment. If this woman is who she says she is, then why is she looking for our dad now? In all the years of my own existence, why hasn't there been any buzz of a possible long-lost sibling? I really had a million and one questions at that point but before I started asking them, I asked my mom, "How is Dad taking this?"

"Cautiously," she replied, before handing off the phone to my dad.

Dad: Hi, babe. Can you believe all this?
Me: I don't know what to believe. This is all so... bizarre.

My dad went right into telling me the story of receiving a random message on Friday that simply read:

Hi,

I am looking for [dad's name] who was stationed at Pearl Harbor in 1974.

Even if you are not that person, could you respond to let me know? Then, I could continue my search elsewhere.

Thank you so much!

Anonymously, my dad replied back with an email that read:

Please tell me the reason why you're searching for this person. Can you at least give me your parents' or grandparents' names, and where you have lived before?

The young woman replied with some startling information. She named her mother, who turns out to be a woman my dad dated before he and my mom began their courtship. And lo and behold, her birth date was a tell-tale sign that she would have been conceived right before the break-up of her mom and my dad. She included other statements that contained minor details that my dad was able to confirm.

My dad and I discussed how easy it felt to immediately accept this woman's claim based on the number of coincidences her story presented. After all, he was both single and a sailor at the time, so this wasn't outside the realm of possibility. The last email my dad had received from her genuinely expressed her desire to know more about her roots, but only as much as her biological father was willing to offer with respect to his existing life and family. I read the email, and to me it sounded sincere. However, despite all of the evidence given, my parents, younger sister, and I agreed that a paternity test would be a natural next step in this situation before anything else.

Although it's not my decision on how my dad moves forward with the position he is now in, he has asked for my input, knowing that his next step or lack of will have some bearing on his immediate family. This would change things: how and to what degree is obviously unknown. In some ways I see this as another rug being pulled out from under me and my family, and yet I have managed to stifle my emotions and put a halt to my own speculations. We are, without a doubt, a tight-knit clan and when any of us reach a significant crossroad in our lives, we call on our immediate family for guidance or encouragement. Clearly my dad is in a somewhat awkward position and I made sure to assure him - as we always do for each other - that I will support him however he wishes to get through this.

In the back of my mind, I can't help but wonder how remarkable of a story this would be if this woman is in fact my sister. For the 30-something years of my entire life, I've been "the firstborn," and for the past 27 years, I have been "the elder sister." To think that there are people out there who might not even know where they come from or who they are related to astounds me. When I was younger, I remember watching episodes on TV of Unsolved Mysteries about long-lost family members who reunited after decades of separation, and how strange I thought they must have felt about meeting a stranger with whom they shared a blood connection. Now, that could potentially be me and everyone else in my family, and it truly is a surreal feeling. Yet, if it turns out to not be that remarkable family story after all, then at least I'll have had the opportunity to record that brief moment of my family's history here.

At this point, it's a waiting game. Clearly, there are many questions to be answered on this end, but I'll be sure to post what my family and I feel comfortable with sharing as developments unfold.

Happy Anniversary, Papa & Granny

December 7, 1941 has long been known as "a day that will live in infamy." This was the day that the U.S. Pacific Fleet headquarters known as Pearl Harbor was surprise-attacked in a military air strike by the Japanese Navy.

Across the Pacific Ocean, 16-year old Magdalena and 20-year old Lope married in a tiny chapel barricaded and chained shut to avoid any potential disruption of the ceremony by Japanese soldiers. The Philippines had previously been invaded by Japan and the occupation by their military forced the people to be prisoners in their own homes. Magdalena and Lope's marriage defied their rule.

Despite their dramatic union, they endured World War II and the Japanese occupation, and went on to live fruitful lives. They raised five children, 4 boys and one girl, their only daughter whom they ended up losing to an incurable health crisis at age 17. Shortly thereafter, they left the Philippines and settled in Oahu, Hawaii - coincidentally, the same island that was attacked the same day they were wed.

Three of Lope and Magdalena's sons married and went on to start families of their own. I was the third grandchild, born to their second eldest son. My grandparents were blessed with six granddaughters, two from each son, and no grandsons.

Today would have been my grandparents' 67th wedding anniversary. My grandfather passed away in 1997, after his battle with liver cancer. My granny is alive and well, traveling around with my uncle, visiting family. She has since sold the Ala Hema Street home in Oahu where her and my papa made their life - he died in that house, and it pained her to be in a place that she felt gave her life and later took it away with my grandfather's passing.

They had a wonderful life together. When she visits, Granny and I often talk about Papa and some of the great stories of times they shared. During one of our last conversations, she shared with me that it gives her such joy to know and remember that she was married to her best friend. Although she misses him terribly, her love has not wavered and transcends the vow "until death do us part."

Back from California

Whether I'm headed to the Bay Area or SoCal, I love going to California. This past weekend, I took the opportunity to leave the scorching heat of the desert for a weekend in beautiful San Diego. No surprise there was a difference of over 30 degrees between there and home. The summer Vegas heat does not let up at all throughout a 24-hour period, so the cooler evenings in SD were a nice break from what I have become accustomed to.

I ended up spending all of my time there with family, and had a few functions to attend. I did not get to venture out to the beach as I planned, but had a good time nevertheless. Since I did a lot of small things there, I won't bore you with the minor details, so here's a summary of some highlights. I gather you will figure out what I did, but if you would like to get the full story, just ask.

Top 10 revelations I arrived at over the weekend include the following:

1. Migrating from the desert to the coast can cause temperature shock to the body. Always dress appropriately - this means: wear pants and bring sweater when visiting SD, even in the summer.

2. If you are a male attending a funeral and not directly related to the deceased, you should wear dark attire BUT avoid wearing black. Apparently, this is a right reserved for relatives of the deceased only.

3. I came to realize that when I die, I know exactly how I would like to be interred: donate my major organs to science, cremate my remains, sprinkle some of my ashes into the Pacific Ocean (preferably from SD, SF, or up by the North Shore), and entomb the rest of my ashes at the Valley of the Temples in Oahu. My service should take place at the church where I was baptized as an infant - St. Paul's Episcopal Church in Honolulu. On a side note, my paternal grandfather was a reverend at that church, and his funeral service also took place there in 1996. I'm not a highly religious person, but that church has a lot of meaning to me.

4. A LDS facility is a good place to have a graduation party, especially if adult guests in attendance are known for their alcoholism.

5. My mother is a non-conformist. Case in point: While watching the WBC Lightweight match in a room dominated by her filipino relatives (who were obviously rooting for Pacquiao, the Filipino boxer), she was the sole supporter/cheerleader for the Mexican-blooded David Diaz. She was even bold enough to make bets - that cost her an expensive steak dinner and a fancy suite awarded to my cousin John who will be travelling to LV in August. Way to go, Mom. There goes my birthday money.

6. Many handsome males live in San Diego, where many Marine Corp and Navy installations are based. It's hard to tell which of those handsome males are straight...even if they are in the military.

7. Don't allow your underage cousins to consume alcohol. They tend to get talkative, play musical instruments, and sing strange songs.

8. There is no exit to Palm Ave on northbound 805 between Chula Vista and National City. Knowing this in advance will prevent any circling of freeways late at night.

9. Humidity makes my hair wavy and eventually turns afro-like by early evening. Note to self: bring hats.

10. Having to return to Vegas from California at the height of Summer causes withdrawal and suffering.