I love old family photos. I mean I really love them. So much so that it makes me sad when I find “orphaned” family photos in antique shops or on the walls of restaurants. How did they end up here? How could anyone give up these family heirlooms? And I’m always certain there’s someone in that family – someone like me who would give almost anything to have those precious photos back.

A few years ago, I began buying a few of those old and abandoned family photos – the ones that have names and other information handwritten on the back – hoping to do a little research and reunite them with their families. And I’ve actually had some luck doing just that.

About two years ago, while sorting through some old photos in a store near where I live, a young man who worked in the store asked if I was looking for anything in particular. I explained what I was up to. I thought he gave me that look I’m now getting used to. The “Yeah, but I don’t really get it” look.

But after a few minutes he began asking a few general questions about researching family history. He said he’d tried researching his own family but hadn’t had much luck. And then he told a story I hadn’t expected to hear. A story of how he and his siblings had been adopted when he was a young boy. He had an idea where at least one or two of them might be living and was anxious to reconnect with them. He also wanted to know what had happened to his birth parents, although that didn’t seem to be his primary goal.

Next thing I knew, I was jotting down some information about his family – names, locations, etc. – and told him I’d be happy to do some research to see what I could find out. Over the next few weeks, we stayed in touch by phone and email. And at one point, he was able to gather some additional information from his adopted grandparents that turned out to be helpful. Quite quickly I realized that finding his siblings was going to be difficult. But finding his birth mother was not difficult – because unfortunately she had died several years earlier. How, I thought to myself, will I share this news with him?

I called and asked if he would meet me for coffee. I decided I wanted to tell him about his mother in person.

And so we met and talked for several hours. And I told him what I’d learned about his birth mother. It was hard for me to gauge his feelings. Although he was adopted when he was young, I can only imagine it must have been difficult news to hear. Nonetheless, he was determined to continue looking for his siblings.

There was some good news that morning when he managed to locate one of his siblings on Facebook. He reached out to her and a few days later let me know that she was very excited to hear from him. And in fact he was already planning a trip to go see her. We texted and emailed a few more times after that and then went back to our separate lives.

A few days ago, through an interesting set of circumstances, our paths crossed again. I was surprised and happy to learn that he is now living near his siblings. And he thanked me for helping him when he was “so lost”.

I said, “You’re welcome”. But really, I’m the one who is thankful.

Thanks, Theo.