Worlds Apart My Search for my Ancestry: Part Two

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Abstract

uessed his age. My previous story gave you that scant history.I typed my adoptive grandfather’s name into the internet and, strangely, a grave surfaced. Someone had taken a photograph of the gravestone and posted it online. Strangely, it was the grave of a 3 month old baby in a graveyard in the same town where my adoptive grandfather lived. Another mystery to add to all the others. But why this gravestone in the town my father grew up in? And why the exact name of his adoptive father? Surely a relative? If not in blood then in history.And now for my DNA test. Who and what am I? Now I will have to let go of my old family and try to imagine the real family. If that is what they are. My relatives.Well, I have, at last, sent off for the test. I wait with baited breath after two false starts which prevented me from beginni

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ng this journey to find out what strange mix of DNA I am.I will keep you up-to-date with my progress!The kit has arrived. Whoo hoo. I open it carefully.Someone I know who has studied genetics has already warned me about how inaccurate the DNA tests are. Too late for that now.I have now downloaded the app. Another false start. I had to type the code in 5 times. Why does this always happen to me?What secrets lay hidden that the spirits want to delay me in finding?I am not a quitter. On the fifth attempt, the code was activated and the red writing vanished.Now I must wait 30 minutes. No food or drink when taking a sample of saliva.Now the long wait. It takes 6–8 weeks. Will I wish I had never started this DNA journey?</article></body>

My DNA Journey

Kit. Photo by the author.

They say we draw others to us who are reflections of us. My mother being the mirror to my orphaned father in that she was put into a home and removed from it more than once by my Irish Grandmother. (Not out of choice, I don’t think; my grandmother never spoke of what happened but I gathered she couldn’t work and keep her as she was a single mum.)

So, on one side we have a second generation Irish mother. But what of my father? A man adopted in the 1940s in the middle of WWII and given a new name? They guessed his age. My previous story gave you that scant history.

I typed my adoptive grandfather’s name into the internet and, strangely, a grave surfaced. Someone had taken a photograph of the gravestone and posted it online. Strangely, it was the grave of a 3 month old baby in a graveyard in the same town where my adoptive grandfather lived. Another mystery to add to all the others. But why this gravestone in the town my father grew up in? And why the exact name of his adoptive father? Surely a relative? If not in blood then in history.

And now for my DNA test. Who and what am I? Now I will have to let go of my old family and try to imagine the real family. If that is what they are. My relatives.

Well, I have, at last, sent off for the test. I wait with baited breath after two false starts which prevented me from beginning this journey to find out what strange mix of DNA I am.

I will keep you up-to-date with my progress!

The kit has arrived. Whoo hoo. I open it carefully.

Someone I know who has studied genetics has already warned me about how inaccurate the DNA tests are. Too late for that now.

I have now downloaded the app. Another false start. I had to type the code in 5 times. Why does this always happen to me?

What secrets lay hidden that the spirits want to delay me in finding?

I am not a quitter. On the fifth attempt, the code was activated and the red writing vanished.

Now I must wait 30 minutes. No food or drink when taking a sample of saliva.

Now the long wait. It takes 6–8 weeks. Will I wish I had never started this DNA journey?

SERIES/LIFE/PERSONAL HISTORY

My DNA Journey