They say that being a family doesn’t only mean being related by blood. When you share a special bond with each other like with your friends or colleagues, you become a family.

When my Mama was pregnant with our eldest, a tricycle driver came knocking on our home with a baby boy in his arms. He said that he coincidentally saw the baby abandoned beside a trash bag in our neighborhood. Thinking he is not capable to raise the baby, he came to our house and asked my parents if they could take the boy. Soft-hearted that she is, my Mama felt pity towards the abandoned baby and didn’t have the heart to refuse it. So, they adopted the baby, named him John Henry (Big Brother/Kuya Jan-jan) and he legally became our eldest.

My parents had 10 biological kids, I was the ninth, and they were able to send us to school including Kuya Jan-jan. He was treated no different from us. Whatever my parents gave us, he gets as well. However, even as a child, Kuya Jan-jan showed signs of having behavioral problems. He always got in trouble in school, fought with my brothers over the simplest things, and would sometimes isolate himself. When he turned 18, a woman who claimed to be his mother came to our house and talked to Mama and Daddy. My parents thought that he was old enough to know the truth, so my parents told him that he was adopted.

Unfortunately, it took a toll on his mentality. His behavior became worse and he was never the same. He ran away from home and roamed the streets. We never heard of that woman again. Whenever my Daddy took Kuya Jan-jan home, he was all filthy and messy but Daddy would personally help him shower and clean him up. Mama would talk to him and reassure him that we were still his family. But he would still go back and wander the streets. We couldn’t talk to him anymore. He was not in his right state of mind. But my parents never gave up on him. They would always take him back home.

But he only got worse. He became violent towards my brothers. And as a kid at that time, I got scared of him. My Mama couldn’t bear seeing him like that, so they took him from the streets to an institution for psychiatric help. Mama and Daddy would travel from General Santos City to Davao almost every month to visit Kuya Jan-jan. When the psychiatrist advised that he was okay to go home, my parents took him back with them while continuing his medication. Little did we know that when he came home, he would miss taking his medication. Then one day, he ran away again. This time, we couldn’t find him anymore. A lot of people would say they have seen him somewhere on the streets but when Daddy went there to check, he was nowhere in sight. We haven’t seen Kuya Jan-jan since then.

Sometimes I wonder, would it have been better if he wasn’t told he was adopted? I know a few friends who admittedly know they were adopted but they were okay with it. They were even thankful to be able to have someone to call family. Honestly, I wouldn’t know how I would react if it were me. I would surely be devastated at first. However, when I think about how my parents were able to raise me and provide for my needs, I would feel nothing but gratitude towards them. I am who and what I am today because of them. There may have been bumps along the road like misunderstandings, especially while growing up, but the fact that they made a lot of sacrifices to raise all of us is reason enough to be grateful to them.

Up until now, Mama would always mention his name on her prayers. It’s been 28 years since it happened and I still wonder what happened to him.

How about you? If you found out you were adopted, what would you do?