The Truth in My DNA: How Finding My Real Father Brought Me Closer to My Brother

For over 50 years, I lived with a version of my story that felt… incomplete. I believed, as I had always been told, that I was the son of a quiet man who returned from the war to Vienna, married his fiancée — my mother — and became the father of her children: first me, then my younger brother three years later.

But sometimes, the truth waits quietly in the corners of memory, until we are ready to face it.

Viktor Gröger

A whisper from the past

Growing up in postwar Vienna, I was very close to my mother and maternal grandmother, a baptized Jew who had survived the Holocaust and lived with us. Our family was modest, and we were supported at times by relatives who had emigrated to Venezuela.

My father — at least, the man I called father — was a withdrawn, introverted man. Unlike my brother, I never had a strong emotional connection with him. It was only after both my parents had passed away that I began to revisit my childhood with fresh eyes, particularly during midlife personal development seminars.

That’s when memories of certain comments my mother made began to resurface — cryptic hints that I hadn’t understood at the time. She once mentioned I was an “eight-month baby, but normal in size.” I remembered a family friend joking, upon seeing me for the first time: “An eight-month baby? That doesn’t seem totally kosher!” She also once confided that she had to choose between two men, and that she chose the one who “needed her more.”

That was the first real crack in the foundation of the story I’d always known.

Following the DNA trail

After discussing these lingering doubts with my brother, we both decided to take DNA tests. The results on MyHeritage confirmed what I had begun to suspect: we were only half-brothers. Strangely, I felt relieved. Suddenly, many unspoken tensions in my family began to make sense.

I embarked on the search for my biological father with hope rather than bitterness. I identified 5 men from my mother’s past who could have been my father. One of them, curiously, I had met 50 years earlier, under unusual circumstances.

While working on my physics dissertation, I needed a specific kind of screw that was difficult to obtain. My mother offered to call an old acquaintance in the industry. The next day, I visited a company in the ninth district of Vienna where I was not only given the screws for free but was also invited upstairs to meet a man in an office room. He was kind, said he remembered my mother fondly, and wished me well. I never saw him again. Decades later, I would learn — through DNA and a remarkable sequence of events — that he was my biological father.

The breakthrough

My search stretched across years. At one point, I tried tracing the family of an emigrant from Austrian Silesia, but couldn’t reach far enough back. Then, out of the blue, I received an email from a man researching his unknown grandfather. DNA evidence had led him to me — and to the conclusion that his grandfather was also my father.

His grandmother had kept notes, one of which mentioned the same man who had helped me with my dissertation. This time, she listed him not as a family friend, but as an intimate partner. That confirmed everything.

Further DNA matches gave me even more insight into my father’s life. When I reached out to the caretakers of his son’s grave, I was eventually contacted by the son’s widow. We’ve since formed a wonderful friendship, and she has shared countless personal stories and family details I would never have known otherwise.

A stronger bond than ever

Perhaps the most unexpected result of this journey has been the effect on my relationship with my brother. Learning that we are “only” half-brothers hasn’t distanced us. In fact, it’s brought us even closer. We both experienced the same upbringing, the same family dynamics, the same unanswered questions. This truth binds us in a deeper, more honest way.

Today, I have a much clearer understanding of who I am and where I come from. I feel more connected to my roots, and to the legacy I pass on to my own children.

Viktor with his wife and their two sons

To anyone else who is walking a similar path: don’t give up. The road may be long, and the answers may take time to unfold, but the truth, when it comes, is worth it. Not just for the knowledge, but for the healing it brings.

Thanks to DNA and platforms like MyHeritage, I’ve been able to uncover a hidden chapter of my life. And more importantly, I’ve discovered that family is more than biology: it’s connection, love, and shared history, no matter how it begins.

Many thanks to Viktor for sharing this wonderful story with us! If you’ve also made an amazing discovery with MyHeritage, we’d love to hear about it. Please send it to us via this form or email us at stories@myheritage.com.