Granddaughter - in the Lost and Found

It was agreed I would depart the office Friday leaving my smartphone on the desk. My nurse practitioner wife, thinks my phone and computer screen are responsible for my sore neck of late. Looking forward to a better night’s sleep I accepted the challenge.

While closing the office door behind me, I heard the familiar telltale ding on my phone – yet another message with advice about my ever-expiring auto warranty, I was sure. Needing to get on the road it could wait until Monday. The weather was crappy, just another dreary day in November and darkness was setting in. Snow pellets were bouncing off the windshield as I made my way up the hill and pulled into the drive… the garage door chugged open as commanded.

My wife servant had left me a sandwich on the kitchen counter prior to leaving for her night shift at the hospital. Respectfully, wife servant isn’t the title I came up with, it is she that signs her notes to me as such. As in, “You will find a dish of pasta and cream sauce in the fridge for your evenings sustenance.” It would be signed, “Respectfully, the wife servant – Lovies, XOXO.”

I grabbed the dish, sandwich and all, and headed for the desktop computer located in my makeshift home office, I call her Miss Dell. I say makeshift because that is what it is; a former closet door, sans doorknob and hardware, straddling a couple of sawhorses purchased from an IKEA online catalog some years ago - when it was fashionable. I cranked Miss Dell up, waited, and then remembered… because my neck reminded me it was sore. I parked Miss Dell and finished the sandwich.

Monday morning back in the office: Yup, it was an email alright but from an unexpected source. From an estranged family of a generation past. The email began, “Dear Sir, please excuse me but I have been led to believe you are my grandfather? It would be nice to know more about you and your/our family’s history. I am in the process of putting together a family tree and hoped you could be of help.” The email was signed with an unfamiliar name. I gave it some thought, about ten seconds, and replied that I would be glad to help however possible.

This story begins over sixty years ago and it goes like this; My military supervisor says to me, “There’s a sergeant on the phone that wants to talk to you, pick up.” Sure enough - it was for me and I received a request to meet said sergeant at the base cafeteria in ten minutes. Over a cup of coffee, said sergeant, says to me… “My daughter finds herself in a family way and says you are responsible.” “But, but” – I start to explain, “there will be no buts about it” he replies, in an authoritative way that sergeants could do so well.

He went on; “You, will marry her, or you will go to jail.” Being on a chain gang at nineteen years old, far away from home, is not a pleasant thought. I tried to explain the timing didn’t seem right. But I had been involved, even though I broke it off once I was made aware of his daughter’s age. I wasn’t all that far ahead of her age wise and not far out of childhood myself.

There would be an arranged marriage and then a little softening of the heart which led to more children, children having children. What could be worse? If we hadn’t separated a few years later, one of us would be dead and the other in prison… a crime of passion would have occurred. We were so set on destroying one another.

I relayed the “out of the blue” request to my servant wife and was pleasantly surprised with her response. She implied this is fascinating… “when can we meet her? Let’s have her to dinner.” Mind you, servant wife is a very social person. “Let’s wait a bit,” I told her…” something isn’t right about this.”

My own family history is interesting but also complicated. My discovery, at age forty-five, that I was an adopted child, fortunately, forced me into looking up my beginnings. So, my family heritage was already well documented and within reach. I gathered the information I had and shared it with my new relative.

The next few weeks, sharing pictures and family story’s, were joyful in the extreme. I looked forward to meeting one day and linking our shared existence. Thinking it might provide a path to the estranged relationship with her dad which had been nonexistent for nearly sixty years. As part of that early divorce/adoption agreement with the now ex and her new partner, I was made to promise I would not try to contact or be a part of the child’s life. Which at the time I thought strange but agreed none the less?

Having spent time retracing generations of my newly discovered families, on both the paternal matriarchal sides, I was well aware of services that can be enlisted to help put a family tree together. Thus, saving much time in researching the many data bases available., not to mention travel time and expenses involved with visiting graveyards and church cemeteries.

I assumed, newly surfaced granddaughter, had found my connection thru one of the DNA databases that are readily available online. This will be a piece of cake I thought. If I were to submit my DNA sample to the same provider then my tree can be merged into hers… simple, simple. So, I purchased the kit and sent it along… and anxiously awaited.

Well, all is not so simple. After several weeks, the DNA information surfaced. All of my known relatives jumped out of the screen but there were no new granddaughter markers. What’s with this I thought… and then I thought again. Granddaughter and I are not related, so therefore, her dad and I are not related. End of story – well, not so fast.

Possible granddaughter communicated she is really confused as to why our DNA isn’t linked. I explained what I thought and why I thought it. I went on to empathize with her dad… he is the innocent one in this relationship and this information needn’t be revealed. That should be left up to his mother.

To my dismay and disappointment, I have not heard back from granddaughter since but I did hear not long after from her dad’s mother; she indicating I was born of the lowest form of human beings known on earth. Why now would she take umbrage with my DNA linked forefathers? I think I know why.

Being born unwanted doesn’t have to ruin your life. In that situation, your birth parents don’t know what to do with you. I was not born out of wedlock but my potential future existence provoked the union for certain. It happens. Just because you are given the tools to become a parent doesn’t necessarily qualify one to become one.

I was hoping granddaughter had found her granddad, so her search continues and I feel like I just walked out of prison.