I'm setting the publish time on this post so it publishes as I'm in the air, on my way to something I've dreamed about for many years.

Tomorrow my boys will meet their great-grandmother, my birth father's mother, for the first time. For those of you who haven't been reading my blog over the past year, you can catch up in my Searching For Roots category to see why this is such a monumental event.

Growing up, I never really thought much about my birth father. I suppose it's because I was blessed with such a wonderful dad, a man who has been an important part of my life since I was five. It wasn't until I started having children of my own that thoughts of my biological heritage started coming to the forefront of my mind.

As I've mentioned in previous posts, there is no question that I inherited most of my physical traits from my father. As my children grew, I could see that they also resembled my father in remarkable ways. I think that was really what started my desire to search for him. I wanted to see a three-dimensional version of the black and white pictures I had tucked away in my cabinet.

The urge grew stronger as I saw my children develop into young men. I was so proud of my boys and I wanted my father to see what he helped bring into this world, because in a way, if it wasn't for my father, I wouldn't be here- nor would these two beautiful spirits that were gifted to me.

I had many dreams of introducing my sons to my father. Dreams of the look on his face as he saw his features on two people that he's never met. More so, I wanted him to see the things that I see in my sons and be proud of the fact that they are part of his legacy.

I thought that dream was dead when my search revealed that my father has been dead for over a decade. I think that not only was I mourning the loss of someone who helped give me life, I also mourned the loss of a dream I'd held close for more than 20 years.

That dream hasn't come to an end though. I wouldn't have believed in my wildest dreams that my grandmother would still be alive (and very much kickin!) at 92 years of age. With the help of an angel, I found my grandmother and the rest of my father's family last July. BJ and I flew to meet her in August.

Nope- I didn't waste any time!

Tomorrow at approximately 11 a.m. PST, I will introduce my sons to my grandmother. The very idea of it floods me with emotion and I know that this is just a small piece of how I'll be feeling in that very moment. I can scarcely imagine the joy I'll feel because I believe that this moment will be the culmination of the 20 year journey.

I chose to do this for her birthday because I can't think of a greater gift than to introduce her to part of the heritage that was left by her son.

In the grand scheme of things, maybe this was how it was all supposed to play out. Surely the death of my father broke my grandmothers heart into a million pieces. I cannot imagine the pain of losing your child. I'm sure she had no idea that somewhere in the background I was out there searching and would eventually bring my family, a part of her son, into her life.

I certainly cannot fill the void in her heart that was left when my father died, but I know without a doubt that this will be a very joyful event for her.

As will it for me.