A friend at work asked if I'd ever met my biological father. Well, there is a tale! From my mother's diary it was pretty easy to pindown the man who fathered me and my brother. And I had met him. In fact, I had mowed his lawn when I was a kid. I didn't have the clearest memory of him, just that he had paid me money that I had immediatly turned into comic books.
After I found out I had another father I did seek him out. He was quite a bit older than Mom so when I tracked him down he was in a nursing home and quite senile. I managed to stammer out that I had mowed his lawn when I was boy but he was on another planet as far as I could tell. I looked at him and was kind of startled that he reminded me of my father. Not in color of course (though apparently he was part Greek and Italian so he wasn't white white), but in the features of his face, the nose, the lips. Finally I said goodbye and left. Insanely I started reading the obituaries (his nurse had said he had stopped eating). A couple months later I saw his name among the dead. My heart skipped a beat when I read the name and I guess I realized that I had again lost a father.