Author’s note;
Before you begin your relationship with this story, I am going to intervene. Because I do want you to have a relationship with it. Be angry, be sad, mystified, confused, be everything I was as I experienced these stories. In order for the experience to be a more interactive one, I suggest something I feel is the most important reason for the book to have been written. I suggest that as well as coming to your own conclusions with the information presented, begin to ask with every story, the question “why”? Why do I believe my father is Che guevara, why do I believe I had all these experiences? And if I did indeed have these experiences – Why? Who was I that I had to go through this at such a young age? And the most important one of all; if what I’m saying is true; what would the consequences be if this truth came out? Why was it so important to hide the truth?
The one piece of information you will not be getting (and strangely no one seems interested to know) is who my mother was. But you should be asking because she is actually the reason I was allowed to live. She is I believe, central to the reason for the truth to have been hidden. It is out of respect for her that I do not reveal her name. Whether her identity will ever be told is still in question.
If you can, like me come to see the possible consequences, then you will begin to understand the importance of this story and why now, more than ever it needs to be told. It is time we all starting asking “why” to a lot of decisions being made affecting us all, in our world today.
The Beginning
This is my story of finding home. In the beginning I couldn’t understand why my home was torn from my hands. Later on I forgot what I had lost. Living without this knowledge was a silent torture I barely survived…there are no words to describe that darkness.
And no amount of appreciation can fully express my gratitude for the protection and guidance I have found along the way. Who can know the effect of a light turning on in a terrifying darkness unless you have been in that place without hope.
As I slowly awakened to the truth of my confusion the pain came rushing in, crowding out even love. Yet by degree and one-at-a-time, blessed with a magnetic force drawing to me the missing pieces of my puzzle, eventually there were enough fragments to realize it was a picture—of me—the image of the life with which I began this most amazing journey.
Finding Home is an unfolding, rediscovering the love of those who brought me forth, whose compassion for humanity was fully expressed in the little me I had long since forgotten.
Dear reader, I want you to know your dedication for your cause can make miracles happen when all hope, and even light has gone, because there is a force so strong it cannot be turned away, no matter what. That force is love.
My inner compass brought me here as it has you, helping draw the answers to the problems we wish to solve. My Father’s love warms my heart as my hand writes these words, and his will pulls me forward to commit my life to finding home.
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