All along the way I had some mysteries in my life. I think kids knew when I was a teenager that I might not be the son of John Graham. I asked my mother a couple times, “I don’t look like anyone else in the family. Why am I named James? There’s no James in the Graham lineage.” And she just said, “I like the name James.” It didn’t add up to me. But now it adds up. My wife and I went out for a nice dinner. I said, “My uncle, he hasn’t been nice to me since my father died. There is just something wrong.” So she said, “I’ll tell you why.” She said, “John Graham wasn’t your father. Your father was a Catholic priest.” I guess it’s like a flash, if you lose your life and you see your whole life. All those things just added up in seconds. The mystery was solved about the way I was treated my whole life. Then I was relieved at the same time that I didn’t have the genes of John Graham. Unfortunately he never said anything nice to me. He had no interest in anything that I did. One time I was playing pickup football. I was probably about 10 years of age. I got hit. I broke my arm in two places. John Graham came about 30 minutes later, and he was very upset with me that I took him away from his business. Never asked me how I felt. He just jumped all over me, because he lost an hour of work by having to come there and sign a document. I got some medical documents of my father. There was a little note there — in case of emergency who to call as next of kin. And this nun’s name appeared.
So I said, she must be pretty close. She finally said, “My order, the mission statement is to tell the truth, and that’s what I’m going to do today.” So she said, “I met your father back in the 50s. He just had a bladder operation that was going south and thought he may not survive, so he said, “I have a journal in my desk; here’s a key. I want you to take that and destroy it. You can read it first, but I want you to destroy it.” And she said, “That’s when I heard about you.” She told me everything she knew about my father. The Grahams wouldn’t tell me anything, and here’s a stranger. She looked at me the whole time. She said I looked just like him. I’ve written the Superior General twice, and I received a response. And the very short response is that, “we basically don’t have that say Father Sullivan fathered a child.” If one day they would officially say I am Father Sullivan’s son, that would really be what I’d like them to say.