But he was 58 when he finally stood in his mother’s hometown in Vinh Loi District, Bac Lieu Province, in southern Vietnam’s Mekong Delta, surrounded by his biological siblings. His parents had however passed away.

“I have been searching for you for decades,” he said as he lit incense at their altar on May 2. “I am finally home. Please rest in peace.”

Son’s search began with childhood taunts and a lingering sense of uncertainty. As a boy, he often heard others call him “adopted.” Confused, he turned to his parents, whom he believed were his birth parents, for answers. His adoptive mother, Bui Thi Ty, neither confirmed nor denied it. Instead, she held him close and said: “Everyone needs someone to raise them. Without that, how can a child grow up?” Being their only child and deeply loved, he let the rumors fade.

But when he turned 18, his parents sat him down and told him the truth. “Do you not love me? Why are you only telling me now?” he asked in disbelief. “Because we love you,” Ty replied. “We waited until you were old enough.”

She then told him about the fateful day in 1966, when she, struggling with infertility, heard about a woman who could no longer care for her newborn. The mother, tall and thin, lived near Nang Ren Church in Hung Thanh Commune, Bac Lieu. She was raising six children alone during the war and feared she could not manage a seventh. The women met and exchanged the baby in silence, without sharing names. That day the woman’s son, about 10 or 12 years old, came to deliver food and, realizing what was happening, ran away in tears.

In 1973, when Son was eight, his adoptive family relocated from Bac Lieu to Can Tho. After learning about his origins, Son vowed to find his roots. At 20, he boarded a bus back to Bac Lieu and searched for the church. But the sun was setting, the river-filled landscape was unfamiliar, and he had no names or addresses. A motorbike taxi driver advised him to stay and search the next day, but with no one to turn to, he returned home empty-handed.

Over the next 40 years he returned to Bac Lieu four more times. He once submitted his story to a TV program that reunites families, but never received a response. Life moved on. He married and raised four children, and the search was set aside.

Three years ago his daughter married and moved to the U.S., later sponsoring him and his wife to join her. Though they lived comfortably abroad, he carried a quiet void. “My longing to find my parents never faded,” he says. Many times at night his wife, Ta Thi Anh, found him sitting alone outside their house in tears. “Where are my parents? My siblings? Why did no one look for me?” he would ask, sobbing.

Knowing how much the answers meant to their father, Son’s children began searching online. In late 2023 they connected with “Tuan Vy – Connecting Love,” a Vietnamese program that sought to reunite families. During Lunar New Year in early February he returned to Vietnam to appear on the show.

Thang and his wife (center) posed for a commemorative photo with his siblings on May 2, 2025. Photo courtesy of the show “Tuan Vy – Connecting Love”

In Hung Hoi Commune, Vinh Loi District, a neighbor watching the program noticed Son resembled someone from the family of 71-year-old Tran Van Thang and showed him the footage. Thang immediately recalled the day he had delivered food to his mother and witnessed her giving away his youngest brother. At that time their father had been imprisoned and their mother was raising seven children alone amid war and airstrikes. “She was afraid we would all die if the house was bombed, and so she gave our then youngest away,” he says.

Both men submitted DNA samples for testing, but Son already felt certain. As he listened to Thang’s recollections and saw the striking resemblance in his face, he believed he had found his family. Ten days later, DNA results confirmed it.

Though he had tried to prepare for the moment, the confirmation overwhelmed him. His wife had to steady him as he stood in silence. “It felt like I was born again,” he recalls. Phone calls between the U.S. and Vietnam became daily occurrences. Son learned he also had two younger siblings. As children, his siblings had asked about the baby their mother had given away, but she never knew where he had gone or who had raised him. “I have never blamed our mother,” he told Thang. “If I did, I would not have spent my life looking for her.”

Due to work, he waited until the Reunification Day holiday at the end of April to return for a proper reunion. As Vietnam marked 50 years of national reunification, Son’s family celebrated their own reunion.

More than 10 tables of food were prepared, with flowers, music and decorations set up to welcome the long-lost son and his wife. Among the guests were Son’s 83-year-old adoptive mother, his 90-year-old father-in-law, and several grandchildren. Tears flowed as he embraced his siblings for the first time.

In front of the entire gathering, he introduced his adoptive mother, a public tribute of gratitude. What pains him most is not being able to meet his birth parents. “I still dream of holding my mother, of feeling her warmth, of showing my gratitude for giving me life,” he says.

Now, he is making up for lost time with his siblings. With 10 days left in Vietnam, he plans to spend three more days with his adoptive mother before visiting each of his siblings’ homes in Bac Lieu, one day at a time.

“My life is complete now,” he says.