My entire life I'd been searching, still no luck. As my 80th birthday arrived I accepted that I probably would never see my son again. I was 15 when I had to give him away, I did it for all the right reasons but the regret had never left me.
I’d never had any more children, although I had Michael who lived at the house at the end of the street. He was like a son to me. He was lovely, always running my errands and doing anything he could for me. I loved him like he was my own, it seemed to fill a small gap in my heart.
My body was found in my home at 115 Tower Street, Manchester, holding a letter. The letter read:
"We have found a match and believe that your son is named Michael Smith and is living at 135 Tower Street, Manchester."