Hello Genetic Relative!

Hello Genetic Relative! was the opening line in an email from a previously unknown cousin trying to trace his roots. I understand his search because my father, sister, and grandson were all adopted. I know that adoptees desire to know their family histories for various reasons. Recently, an adult wanted to know the medical histories of their family of origin for health reasons. Occasionally, a person will find out later in life that they aren’t “who they think they are” because for various reasons the truth was kept from them and so they seek it out. For some, their heart craves a reunion of a soul they are related to by DNA, perhaps someone who shares their unique eyebrows or taste for tapenade.

I believe that everyone is entitled to know his or her story. So far this year, I was able to find the family histories of eight people. Some have experienced delightful reunions and others’ messages have gone unanswered. Regardless, the truth is somehow freeing.

Click here to order your own  AncestryDNA to find out your story!

Photo: Jacob Riis/Public Domain

 

Losing Touch With A Sister

This is a photograph of my sister, Fara, and I when we were young. In those early years, our lives were mostly spent together: riding in the back seat of the Buick, swimming in the creek, and rolling down what we then though was a hill in our front yard but now realize was a slight incline. I was a towhead and she had dark hair. When our mother dressed us in matching clothes, as she often did, we looked like a salt and pepper set. When we were teenagers someone told us, “If you don’t have the same father – you are only HALF-sisters.” We gasped and indignantly replied, “We’re just sisters!” In the natural progression of things, Fara and I went our own way, pursued our dreams and lived the lives we chose. Sometimes, along the way, we forgot that we were more alike than different. Fortunately, because of the strong family ties that bind our hearts, we were able to work through our differences and we now see each other often.This wasn’t the case with a client from my work as an ancestry researcher and I couldn’t help but be moved by the story she told. I wrote it down so I wouldn’t forget how important it is to keep in touch– especially with my sister.
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“My sister died.” A very elderly caller told me.
“I am so sorry to hear that.” I replied
“I didn’t like her!” She snapped.
“I’m sorry to hear that, too.”
She took a deep breath and then whispered, “I’m going to miss her.”
“I’m very sorry for your loss. How can I help you?” I asked.
“I want to know if she was alone when she died.”
“I can do a little research,” I explained, “I can definitely find paperwork for you, but I’m not sure if I can find that out.”
“We lost touch back in the 50s.” She went on.
“Excuse me,” I asked, “the 1950s?”
“Yes, we had a falling out over some-such thing,” she began to reminisce, “although I don’t remember what. We were different. It’s hard to believe we came from the same parents.”
“You haven’t communicated since the 1950s?” I was clearly stuck on that point.
“You know how it is,” she responded, “we just didn’t have a lot in common.”
I asked all of the usual questions and told her, “I’ll get back to you when I have some information.”

“How sad,” I told my husband. “Can you imagine losing touch for nearly seven decades?”
“It’s not that uncommon for families to fall apart,” he reminded me, “it happens all the time.”
“Yes, I know. But I can tell by her voice that she regrets the lost years.”

A few weeks later she called. “Thank you for the photograph of my sister, ” she said, “of course, I hadn’t seen her older.” The line went silent as she wept.
I paused, waiting for her to compose herself, and then asked, “Did you get all the other paperwork I attached to the email?”
“Yes, I did. ” She said and then asked, “Did you ever find out the other thing?”
“No,” I said apologetically, “I wasn’t able to find that out.”
She loudly sighed and then said, “I’m always going to wonder if she was alone when she died.”
“So will I,” I responded, “so will I.”