This is a story about my search for my biological roots that lasted over 25 years. It relates how one little piece of information led to another, and then another, and how there eventually seemed to be no end to the amount of doors to open and things to find out. Yet there also seemed to be no end to the amount of brick walls, dead ends, and stumbling blocks in his path. The story of his search started in February of 1968, when he held his newly born daughter for the first time. After my search had ground to a halt a couple years later, there was an incredible coincidence in a small classroom in a large Cleveland college. At one point, a number of newly found cousins, aunts, and uncles swore that they had seen pictures of him dead and in a coffin. The story continues to one sunny morning in July of 1996 on the top of a windy hill in a cemetery where he knelt in prayer at a long-forgotten grave. This story will inspire any adoptee or anyone searching for lost family members to never give up, to look around all corners, to be patient, and to use each piece of information with consideration for anyone who might be hurt by its being divulged. All the information that I uncovered was obtained without having to go to court or using the internet. Persistence, prayers, common sense, curiosity, and patience paid off.