Michael Novotny-Bruckner. Quite a mouthful isn’t it. But I am so proud of my name. I remember the first time I used it when introducing myself to someone. It gave me a warm feeling hearing it trip off my tongue, even though at that stage Ben and I weren’t married. When we finally were it made it even more special.

Before that of course I was just plain Michael Novotny. Nothing unusual about my name except that it wasn’t actually mine.

Ma had plucked it out of the death notices of our local paper when I was born. I had grown up thinking my father was a war hero when it fact he wasn’t. My father was a drag queen who had gotten Ma pregnant in high school.

When I found this out I talked it over with Ben. As always he asked the right question of me…..does knowing the truth change anything about who you are. I thought about that for a while and realized that I was part of two people, but Ma had been the one who raised me, who had sat up nights with me when I was sick, wiped away the blood when some kid at school had given me a beating, worked day and night to make a home for us.

I still remember when I’d met my father. I’d liked him. I’d felt comfortable around him, he had an easy way about him and I would have liked to have gotten to know him better.

Over the years I’ve thought about seeking him out, I think he deserves to know that he has grandchildren; that I am married to the most wonderful man in the world, and my life is how I always wanted it to be.

But for some reason I had always hesitated in taking that first step and deep down I knew why. I would feel like I was betraying Ma, the old wounds would be opened up again and I couldn’t do that. The past sometimes should remain in the past. But that didn’t stop me wondering what parts of me belonged to him.