Brotherly love

When you haven't seen your brother in 59 years - a lifetime of hoping and searching - expectations of meeting again on this Earth grow dim. You learn to not dwell on it. You get on with life.

But that dream, it just won't quit.

By age 9, Sharon Richardson of Lewiston was separated from both parents and all four of her siblings. Names changed, families moved, and information that could help reunite the children was kept from them - at least for a time. By their 20s, the four oldest children had found their way back to each other. But they weren't able to track down their youngest brother, Rex Bolen. Until this past spring.

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Before April of this year, the last time the five siblings had been together was around 1957. They lived with their parents, Edward and Jewel Lauritsen, in Walla Walla at the time. Edward Lauritsen worked as a magnetic crane operator at a scrap metal yard, which supplied a number of the children's toys. Jewel Lauritsen was often out of the house. Richardson remembers the time only vaguely.

"We fended for ourselves quite a bit," she said.

Once when her mom was at the neighbor's house, Richardson was helping her younger sister get a still-hot frying pan from a shelf high above the wood stove to fix something to eat. Using her dress as a hot pad, Richardson reached for it, but the pan flipped over, spilling scalding grease over her hand. She was badly burned but afraid of the scolding she'd get by bothering her mom next door. She went over anyway and got help.

The family scraped by in this way until the day Jewel Lauritsen left, taking the oldest child, now Sandy Ellenberger, with her. Richardson was around 7 at the time. She remembers her father loading up the rest of the kids and leaving them at a home some distance away. Richardson's understanding was that he was going to get Ellenberger back, and she remembers crying and begging him to take her with him.

He didn't return. Whether he had really intended to come back, Richardson doesn't know. But when he didn't retrieve his children, they ended up in state care.

Richardson didn't see him again until a court hearing. She was sitting on a hard wooden bench. He told the court he thought it was better for the kids to be adopted out.

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Richardson's oldest sister was still living with her mom. Her older brother, Gary Lauritsen, was placed in a state-operated facility. He had mild special needs, although he was able to live on his own later in life and was married for a time. Richardson and her two younger siblings, Kathy Beeman and Bolen, were kept together and shuffled around to a couple of foster homes. Richardson described the caregivers they stayed with during that period as being "really mean" and recalled hiding out with her siblings in a woodshed.

The hope was for the three to be adopted together, but it's difficult enough to find a family willing to adopt one older child, much less three of them. At age 3, Bolen, was the first to be adopted, by a family from outside the Walla Walla area.

Beeman, a year younger than Richardson, was adopted next, by a family in Grandview, Wash. The family wished to adopt both girls, Richardson said, but it wasn't permitted. Someone in the state system decided the sisters should be separated because Beeman was said to dominate her sister. Richardson says the opposite was true.

The arbitrary decision was a painful one for the close-knit pair. The day her sister was taken away, Richardson sat by the window watching and crying, knowing she wasn't coming back.

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In 1959, Walt and Helen Bargewell visited an adoption agency. They were there because Helen Bargewell decided she wanted a little girl for her birthday. The two had grown children from previous marriages. They were drawn to a photo of a girl with blond hair and a sweet smile. That girl was Richardson, then 9. She met the couple and told them they could adopt her if they bought her a new bike. They agreed, and Richardson moved to their home in Yakima.

She got along well with her new dad, Walt Bargewell, and the two grew close. Though Helen Bargewell did her best, Richardson said, she could be controlling and verbally abusive. From the moment Richardson entered their home, her new mom began removing every connection she had with her past. Her mother wanted her to forget everything that had happened, Richardson said, and to start fresh and build a new life as a Bargewell.

The woman who adopted Beeman wanted the sisters to maintain contact, but Helen Bargewell refused. When her sister's family would visit the Bargewell's bar and restaurant - her sister's favorite place to eat - Bargewell would send Richardson downstairs or out to a movie so the two wouldn't meet.

The few family mementos Richardson had left included a photo of her sister, that she would look at while hiding under her blankets and crying. When her mom found out, she took the photo away. The girls had been given matching dolls, but Richardson's was taken away and given to her aunt. The aunt, who didn't approve of the forced separation, kept the doll and returned it to Richardson later in life.

Being so strictly cut off from her past forced Richardson to stop thinking about her family, and she eventually stopped missing them.

"You just shut it off because you're not allowed," Richardson said.

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Things changed after Richardson's family moved to Seattle when she was around 12. At about age 15, a cousin told her where her sister lived and her new last name. Richardson wrote it down in hopes she would be able to find her someday.

When her mother discovered the information, she was angry; but the incident may have convinced her it was only a matter of time until the sisters found each other. For whatever reason, she eventually relented and arranged for Richardson to meet her sister when she came to Seattle for an ear surgery. Richardson was 16, her sister was 15.

"I was really excited," Richardson remembered, but it was also a bit awkward. She and Beeman hadn't seen each other for seven years and were very different people. Beeman wore makeup and fixed her hair nicely; Richardson didn't. Beeman was quiet, and the more talkative Richardson couldn't get much out of her. Richardson now realizes her sister was just more reserved, but at the time she didn't know what to make of it.

"We didn't know each other," Richardson said.

During the visit, the two went to downtown Seattle and got matching outfits. Richardson doesn't remember writing her afterwards, but soon after Beeman joined them on a family vacation, and the two became close again.

When Richardson was a sophomore in high school, her adopted dad died. At the end of the school year, Helen Bargewell and Richardson moved to Lewiston.

Now just three hours from her sister in Grandview, Richardson remembers numerous trips to visit Beeman. The two eventually decided to find their biological parents. Richardson didn't remember much from her childhood, but Beeman recalled visiting an aunt in Waitsburg. The two tracked her down and, through her, they found their father.

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Edward Lauritsen was still in the Walla Walla area and was happy to be reunited with his now-grown children. He told Richardson that he knew she would come find him. She had been his favorite, her siblings told her later. If ever they wanted permission or a treat, Richardson would be sent to ask.

After finding their father, the sisters also reunited with their mother and older sister and brother, who were living in the Yakima area. All six were together long enough for a picture - but there was still one family member missing.

Richardson and Beeman worked hard to locate their youngest brother. They visited the courthouse more than once and were told there were no records for him. Richardson is unsure if the records didn't exist or if they just lacked the legal authority to see them.

By then, each of the sisters had married and began families of their own. After hitting so many roadblocks, they were forced to put the search on hold. The youngest brother was never forgotten, but they didn't know how to find him. Later in life, they searched the internet for him. But armed with only his birth date and first and middle name - which might easily have been changed - they got nowhere. At one point they even dreamed about trying to get on "Oprah" for a family reunion show, but that didn't happen either.

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Meanwhile, Bolen was living in Seattle with no idea anyone was looking for him.

He had no memories of his adoption or life before it. He didn't even know he was adopted until later in life. The first hint he had of it was when he was around 8 or 9 and had been pestering his brother, who was three years older.

"He told me, 'Leave me alone; you're not my brother, you were adopted,' " Bolen said, in a phone interview.

Bolen retaliated and then dismissed the idea. It didn't resurface until he was 16 and had to get a copy of his birth certificate for a job. When he saw it, he realized his brother had been right; but the news didn't seem to affect him much. He just went on with life.

Bolen joined the military nine days after turning 18 and made a career of it. He thought about his biological family off and on. He once clipped a newspaper article about siblings that had been reunited after being adopted out as children - but he delayed pursuing a search of his own.

Then in 2014, Washington changed its rules on access to birth certificates. As a result, those 18 and older could get their pre-adoption records. This allowed Bolen to learn his birth family's last name. He also discovered he had a brother and two sisters. Though the number of sisters listed was incorrect, for the first time he knew he had biological siblings.

Bolen did some research and joined ancestry.com in an effort to locate and find out more about his biological family. In March 2016, he took a DNA test. The test is commonly used to help determine a person's ethnic background, but it can also help find possible relatives who also have done DNA testing through the website. After months of fruitless waiting for a possible match, Rex grew frustrated. By October 2016, he had stopped checking his account.

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About that same time, Beeman, who now lives in Mabton, Wash., was first hearing about ancestry.com's DNA testing service through a friend who planned to try it. Beeman wasn't interested. She was "too cheap," she said in a phone interview, and looking for her brother was no longer at the forefront of her mind.

But then curiosity got the best of her. The test results confirmed her Scandinavian heritage and listed possible degrees of relation with others who had taken the test. Among them was a match for a possible sibling. He even had the same first and middle name of her younger brother.

Right away, Beeman sent a message through ancestry.com. There was no reply. She sent another. Still no reply.

In order to protect privacy, the site doesn't provide additional contact information. Beeman wasn't sure what to do next. She didn't know how to reach the person. She didn't know if it really was her brother, and she didn't know how he'd respond even if he was. It looked like another dead end.

A couple of months later, Beeman was talking with a grandchild who asked how the search was going. The discussion inspired her to try yet another online search, now that Beeman had a full name to work with. It seemed like a long shot since most people have traded in landlines for cell phones, but she was in for a happy surprise. A person with the same name and age range was living in the Seattle area.

Beeman told Richardson what she'd found. She was scared to initiate contact, but Richardson urged her to at least call and leave a message.

"It was a little unnerving," Beeman said.

She picked up the phone and dialed the number.

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At his home in Puyallup, Wash., Bolen stepped outside to do some yardwork.

Inside, the ringing phone went unanswered. Relieved, Beeman left a message that she was looking for a long-lost brother and wondered if he might be who she was looking for.

When Bolen came inside, he saw he'd missed a call. He listened to the voice message - he was doubtful at first, but intrigued. He called back.

Fifteen minutes after leaving the message, Beeman's phone rang. It didn't take long for the two to confirm that they were indeed brother and sister.

"It's bringing me to tears right now, just remembering that part," Beeman said. "It was amazing, I didn't expect it to happen. I was lucky to find my sisters, and I just thought that (finding my brother) wasn't going to happen after all this time."

Beeman and Bolen talked for two hours, until the battery on Bolen's phone died.

As soon as she got off the phone, Beeman called Richardson.

"I said, 'You love me right? Well, now you really love me, because I just found your brother,' " Beeman said.

Over the next couple of days, Richardson talked to Bolen, as did Ellenberger, the eldest sister, who now lives in Stanfield, Ore. Their conversations lasted more than an hour. Bolen had thought he had two sisters - now he had three.

Even though he had no recollection of ever talking to them before, Bolen said it was like they'd known each other all their lives.

"I was blown away. Talking to them, it felt like I'd talked to them earlier that week," he said. "I don't remember anything (prior to adoption), but it was like we'd never been apart."

Soon after the initial connections were made over the phone, the siblings made plans to meet. Both parents had since died, but in April, all five siblings were reunited - together for the first time since 1957. They met at Beeman's home. The meeting lasted longer than they had planned. There was a lot of talking, Richardson said.

To celebrate the occasion, the siblings all exchanged gifts. Bolen and his wife, Rosie Bolen, presented each with an angel of hope figurine.

"They handed it to us and said, 'Thank you for not giving up,' " Richardson said.

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Both Beeman and Bolen doubt other people can understand what it's like to find a family member after so many years unless they've experienced it themselves. Beeman said it was like having a empty hole in you somehow - and that in reuniting, it's like having the holes filled up.

"It was a very fulfilling moment," Beeman said.

As for Bolen, "I can't explain," he said. "I don't have words for it."

He compared the experience to television shows that portray similar types of reunions among family members - there's just such a wide range of emotions, he said.

Richardson, too, was initially nervous about making contact. She had no idea what her brother would be like, if he would want them in his life - and if she would want him in hers.

"I told myself, 'At least if it doesn't work out, it'll be closure,' " Richardson said. "But it turned out the opposite."

The siblings stay in regular contact through texting.

"It's amazing. It's like we're old friends," Richardson said. "He calls me 'Sis'."

Although it was a long, lonely road, Richardson doesn't regret the way things panned out.

"I'm thankful for my life lessons. It brought me full circle to see how God had his hand on me," she said, "opening my heart and eyes to the one who loved me so unconditionally that he died for my sins."

She's grateful, she said, to be born twice and adopted twice - first at age 9 into her second family and then at 26 "into the family of God."

Now her original family has been restored, too.

In September, Richardson visited Bolen in Puyallup, and then he and his wife drove her back and visited her in Lewiston. Bolen's wife has since told Richardson that he has changed since finding his siblings; he's more talkative and open than before, she said.

That first weekend they met, Richardson remembers Bolen telling them the three best moments of his life.

"He said, 'Marrying my wife, having my kids and finding you guys.' "

Schmidt can be reached at (208) 305-4578 or mschmidt@lmtribune.com.