Back in 2018, my sister and I decided to do Ancestry “for fun” and I bought a kit for my daughter in 2020, also “for fun”. Well, I got my results, but my sister’s was locked and every time I’d ask her for her results she had some excuse like “I forgot my password” or “Oh, I’ll send it to you” or “I’ll let you know next time I’m on Ancestry.” Well after a while, I just kinda gave up and built my family tree. Fast forward to August of 2021. I’m quarantined in my room because I, somehow, got Covid, and my daughter is telling me, through a window, about a message she got from someone named Tim from Ancestry regarding me. Long story, short, this person turns out to be my cousin. I eventually met Tim and spent hours learning about my ‘new’ family. Tim had stated I was the missing piece in the puzzle. I reached out to my sister, who miraculously finds her password and it turns out she and I are 100% half-sisters. Talk about a myriad of emotions! I went through them all and a few not invented yet. In a matter of a few minutes, I lost half a family. The only family I ever knew. My mother was an only child whose father left when my grandmother was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. She had one Aunt who, for whatever reason, hated me. Everytime we would go over to her house she would hug my sister then turn to me and say, “well, you’re still fat.” Hurtful, embarrassed because she’d say this no matter who else was there, and sad were the emotions I felt every time I saw her. As I got older, add dread and hate as well. Anyway, back to the DNA. So, lucky me, I was related to her. In one moment, I lost my grandmother, Aunt Peggy, a boatload of cousins (including the ones I spoke of last week), and of course the man I thought to be my father. Yes, I still regarded them as such, but my bloodline changed. I changed. Everything changed.
The only person alive that could shed some light on this was my Aunt Peggy. She told me she promised to take the secret to her grave. I told her I needed to know and I appreciate any information she could give. And so the story goes…
My parents owned a Tastee Freeze in the 60’s. They had a brick and mortar that my mom ran as well as an ice cream truck which my dad drove. A sixteen-year-old kid named Ray was a dishwasher there. Seems he and my mom had a fling. She got pregnant. She took my sister (who was 1 ½ at the time) and she and Ray drove from Chicago to California. My dad comes home from a hunting trip and there is no note, no wife and no baby. I can only imagine his anxiety as time goes on with no sign of her. My aunt told me my dad found my mom in California by contacting her best friend. He went and brought her home. His name is on my birth certificate even though he knew I wasn’t his. I thanked Aunt Peggy, told her again how much I appreciated the information and how hard it must have been for her to share that. When we hung up, I dropped the phone and balled like an infant that hadn’t eaten all day.
Next Week: The Raincloud of Emotion
Until Next Time…
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