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One evening before bed, I lamented to my college-aged son that I wished I were closer to my family. My parents had passed away when I was in my 30’s. Now in my 50’s, I hardly spoke to my two sisters. I’m the youngest sibling, and as a child I drove my mom nuts asking for an older brother. She had declared the request impossible!
So, with thoughts of family filling my head, I declared aloud that the universe would bring me an older brother. And I meant it, with full conviction in my heart. My son and I had recently discovered the Mandela Effect, so I believed the universe is malleable and I could have an older brother. I went to sleep knowing it would happen, just not how or when.
The next day, I got a call from a private detective who had been hired by a man in New York (I’m in Utah) to find his family. The New York man was adopted and had been searching for years. I was elated and asked how long the detective had been searching. He’d been hired that very morning!
Many members of my family had submitted DNA to Ancestry.com, and through these records, the detective determined that the New York man was either my half-brother or first cousin. He asked if I was willing to exchange contact information with the man. Of course, I said yes and agreed to a DNA sample as well.
The detective gave my information to my brother, and within 30 minutes I was looking at the LinkedIn profile of a man named Billy — the spitting image of my father. I cried, and we spoke for the first time that night.
A few weeks later the DNA test confirmed he is indeed my half-brother!
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