As a young adoptee I had one simple quest: to find my birthmother.
Twenty years later I found her, but she had already died. I did, however, joyously find loving aunts, uncles, two brothers, a sister, and even an 87-year-old grandmother!
When it rains, it pours.
My mission was successful, but a new quest began: I was told I had another sister who mysteriously vanished before she was one-year old. I wondered why no one chose to look for her.
Almost 25 years later I found her. She is alive and well. She is beautiful. As a bonus, I also found more nephews, nieces, cousins, and so many accepting relatives that it is difficult to contain them in a single photograph.
With the miracle of DNA and a crew of genealogical geniuses, I also found a Syrian Jewish brother on my birthfather’s side. My biological puzzle was larger than anyone could imagine.
My cup runneth over.
In the last century, it appears my grandfather Rabbi Matloub Abadi was the most renown and beloved rabbi in the Syrian Jewish world.
Yet, I am still an adoptee. I am still that little boy that was chosen by a loving woman and man that I called mom and dad. I am still that only child that will eternally search for life’s mysteries.
Tonight I am seeking a book written by my grandfather, called Magen Ba’adi. He wrote it in Hebrew. I know it will contain the wisdom of every rabbi born. I will clutch it tightly in my arms.
But after I find this book what will I seek next? I may never be satisfied until I know all the secrets of the universe.
When I discover these secrets, I promise I will share them here with you.