A brief history:
Due in part to my often solitary and introverted behavior, most of the people in my life have no clue that I’ve never had the opportunity to meet anyone my father’s side of the family.
Whether it be drugs, cancer or heart attacks, my interaction with an entire side of my DNA has been limited to stories, most of them fleeting and lacking any detail.
There is one surviving member of my my dad’s family (aside from him) and that’s his sister, Denise, who I’ve been prohibited from meeting due to dishonesty and burnt bridges that have mangled and brother-sister relationship over the years. When my uncle Steven and my grandparents, Miriam and John, died 30 years ago, my aunt took all of the family memorabilia and disappeared completely. My dad was left with nothing to remember his family by but a handful of mental images he could recall from his childhood.
Today a CD containing 90 pictures was sent to my dad. It was from my aunt with a heartfelt apology. I’m indifferent on meeting this person who taught my father how cruel the world can really be, but I downloaded the pictures and I’ve been sitting in my room crying for an hour.
For the first time in my life, I know what my grandparents and uncle look like. This may seem insignificant to most, but to me, it’s the best present anyone could have bestowed upon me.
I think it’s of the utmost importance to know where you come from. If you don’t know what led you to this point, how can you march on with confidence?
Today I learned a fraction more about myself than I knew yesterday. It may be a small vestige, but it is a piece of me that I would now feel incomplete without.