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Episode 15

I got to the door and gently opened it.
Immediately I did, the scent of my
children reached me. With my heart
beating wildly, I pushed open the door
and entered. Their presence was
everywhere.

Their picture, mounted on huge frames
looked down at me from the wall.

I stared back at them, their smiles. Their
innocent smiles were everywhere. And
their eyes bore into me as if they were
appealing to me not to let go off them. I
opened their wardrobe; they dresses
hanged in there while their shoes were
arranged on the shoe rack. Pamela’s
teddy bear lay quietly and sadly on her
bed.

I fought back tears. They were the two
children I had known as mine for the
past years. Those were the children I
had hugged, kissed and cuddled as a
father. But in a twinkle of an eye, I had
discovered that they were not my
children – at least DNA tests had proven
they were not my children.

It was so unbelievable. How could I live
the rest of my life knowing that they
were not my children? I sat down on
Pamela’s bed. Memories of nights I used
to come and sit on their beds and chat
with them came flooding back to me. I
felt the tears swelling up in my eyes.
Then I realized that I was trembling.
“I still love you, Peter. I still love you
Pamela. You are my children! You will
always be my children, I promise,” I
heard myself say.

I reached for Pamela’s bed sheet and
wrapped it around my body. It felt like
having her wrap her arms around me as
I carry her.

“Pamela my princess! My love! My baby! I
love you so much,” I said. By this time, I
was weeping. The tears were flowing
liberally down my cheeks. My heart was
burning, burning for my children.
I began to wonder where they were at
that material moment. Were they
missing me too? Were they being
coached to call another man ‘Daddy’?
How will their young hearts assimilate all
that was happening around them?
I looked up once more at their pictures
hanging from the wall. They were all
smiling and their eyes were beaming
directly at me. I began to think of the
future I had planned for them. Before I
knew it, I had fallen asleep on Pamela’s
bed.

It was a sweet sleep for me because I
dreamt about Peter, Pamela, their
mother and I having fun at the
countryside in England where we had
gone visiting relatives. We went horse
riding and swimming. I woke up later to
find that it was all just a dream.

I took a look at my wrist watch. The time
read half past four in the morning. I lay
still on the bed, thinking about the
tragedy that had rocked my family. Then
I thought about the prospects of me
becoming a biological father soon after
my fertility treatment. That gave me
something to be cheerful about.

However, being in Peter and Pamela’s
room and feeling their presence all over
made it very difficult for me to stop
thinking about them. Despite the results
of the DNA and the fertility test later on, I
still found it difficult to accept that Peter
and Pamela were not my biological
children.


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