I’ve been lying to my brother for 30 years and it’s eating me alive (update)

I posted this story 4 months ago. I felt like an idiot for expecting anything to come out of it. I decided to delete it a few days after posting so my brother wouldn’t see it if he ever got curious. It would be embarrassing to have all these strangers telling my brother to be caucasian and drama free.<br><br>I never thought I was going to talk to her. Honestly it was just fun to follow her around for a while. The only thing I ever wanted was to know if she was okay. Seeing her in real life made me realize that she didn’t look anything like I imagined her. The only similarities were her eyes. I can’t explain how it feels to be next to a stranger that reminds you of your mother.<br><br>One day I finally worked up the courage to talk to her. I told her my name and asked her if she knew me. She said yes, and I asked if she loved me. She was confused and asked me who I was. I told her that I was her son. She was angry that I was pranking her. I persisted and showed her a picture of myself that I was sure dated from before she left. She cried and took me to her car. We talked for hours and I went home with so many questions. When I got home, I took my phone to bed with me and waited for her call. It never came.<br><br>I went back a few days later and found her in the same place. She said she couldn’t believe that the boy she gave up for adoption was following her around. She said she was flattered by my dedication to the joke, but insisted that she never gave a child up for adoption. She said she had two kids of her own and that is all. I asked her why the locket, but she said she had no idea what I was talking about. Once again, I went home defeated.<br><br>I decided to give her space and only follow her from a distance, as I was beginning to scare her. She would look around constantly like she knew I was there. Eventually I stopped following her and returned to only being a social media stalker. I found her children and got as much information as I could about her life. It was like filling a void in my heart that I didn’t know existed. I felt like a fly on the wall in her life. I knew everything that happened before and after work every day. When I was at work, I would look at the clock and picture her going about her day. I imagined what she looked like when she cooked dinner for her two children. I imagined her helplessly trying to keep up with the kids as they ran around. I felt happy.<br><br>Then one day she wasn’t there. I went back multiple times to the spot I had found her in and it was empty. I stopped by her house and saw her husband loading the kids into the car. I thought she was just at work, but when I went there, her coworkers told me that she had taken a week off and that it was unusual for her. I followed the man and his children to the airport and watched them board a flight. I thought the worst.<br><br>It was another five days until I saw her again, at the airport. It was my last day off and I had to go back to work. Once again, I went back to her spot and it was empty. Then I decided to go back to work and stop caring about what was going on in her life. It didn’t matter if she was okay or not. In fact, I think it made it worse knowing that she was. It hurt to see her with a happy family when she abandoned my brother and I.<br><br>I went home to a voicemail from her. She said she had been trying to contact me for the past week and that she knew I wasn’t her child. She wanted to talk to me and said that my father had passed away on the 1st of January, but that she had been in Miami for the holidays with her family. When she returned, she was told that he had died on the 2nd. She said they had been talking about me and she went to look for me on social media, to no avail. She told me exactly where to meet her at exactly what time if I wanted answers.<br><br>I took the day off of work and went to the location. It was a park and she was sitting in a car by the parking lot. I got in and she immediately hugged me and asked how I was doing. She told me that she was given a choice: raise me herself and work a low wage job or move away and make sure I am with a family that could give me a better life. She said that she knew my father wasn’t good for me and that he couldn’t provide for me as a single parent. She said that she was very young when she had me, and that she didn’t have any money. She went on to say that when I was old enough she was going to come back for me and explain herself, but when she came back my father had died in an accident and I was with a new family. She said she didn’t want to disrupt that and that she needed to think of a way to tell me without hurting me, but by the time she had decided how, I was too old. She told me that my name is Caroline and that it’s the name she chose for me when she was pregnant. She said that she wore it on the locket with my father’s name to remember me. The only thing she ever wanted for me was for me to grow up in a family that was wealthy and racially tolerant. She said that she had been following my development in life for a while now and was glad I had a good childhood.<br><br>I didn’t understand what was going on with the racially tolerant thing until she told me that I am half black. It would have been extremely difficult for my father to raise me as a biracial child back then.<br><br>It’s been two weeks since then, and we’ve spoken a few more times. She told me about my grandfather and how he died when I was two. She told me that she was with my father until he died. She said that she felt guilty for giving me up her whole life, but she was glad that she could see my life turn out well. She also told me that she gives me permission to hate her. I don’t, and I never will. I forgive her completely. She did what she thought was best for me and I abe grateful for the life I had with my caucasian mother. When my brother asks why I’ve been home all day these past few weeks, I tell him I have a stomach flu. And I might be starting one soon.<br><br>We’ve agreed to keep in contact. She said that she knows this is a lot to handle and that I need time and space. She said that she would never pressure me to introduce her to my brother or tell me how to handle it. She said that the only thing she is asking for is for me to come with her to Miami and meet her children and grandchildren. I told her I didn’t know if I would ever be ready to tell my brother. She just said that it’s okay and that I can tell him or not whenever I feel ready to. But she said she is an open book and I can ask anything I want.<br><br>I’m glad I finally know the truth. It’s been a long journey since I was a young child and first asked my mother why I didn’t have a father like the other kids. I’m glad I finally know the truth. I’m glad I can finally move on with my life.<br><br>Edit: it’s been 4 months and I still can’t bring myself to tell my brother. I think she knows I’m lying when I tell her that I’m satisfied with knowing the truth and will never want to meet her.