I cannot begin to tell you
how glad I am that I never
followed through on the idea
of flying to Lisbon and searching
for you or some record of you.
After all, she told the adoption
agency when she gave me up
that you were a Portuguese Jew
she met in Washington, D.C.
so the odds were good you could
be found in the government
records in Lisbon, and perhaps I
would see a face like mine
and know I had found you.
What a waste that would
have been, as it turns out,
for all of that time you
were in the Beverley, New Jersey
National Cemetery already,
buried as a retired CMSGT
U.S. Air Force and you had
not a drop of Portuguese DNA
to pass along to me, father.