So, last Monday I drove down to Peterborough to see my siblings and my fathers cousin.
My fathers family is very fractured. When he was 6 or 7, his mother ditched him and his sister with her parents and scuppered off to the U.S. with their newborn baby sister in her arms. His father was not part of the household as he was living elsewhere with his WIFE. I was 6 when my grandfather died, but I have no memory of meeting him.
When my grandmother went to the US, she had my infant aunt adopted into another family. She married the guy she ran off with, then had at least five more children with him. There are possibly others. Some were in foster care, some were under supervision of older siblings. It was complicated. One died in unsupervised care.
My father passed away in 2013, well into his 90th decade. I kept hoping he would talk about his family, but it didn't happen. I only discovered the identity of his father a week or so before he passed. One of my American cousins found a photo of him and sent it to me, thinking it was my father! When the backing was steamed off we discovered my grandfathers name written on the back.
My brother and I then DNA tested with two companies for proof. A whole lot of information came to light from some of our closest matches. We learned that we had relatives in the neighbourhood.
Last year I met two daughters of my fathers first cousin Gordon. We had a wonderful visit. They were absolutely aghast with the story. One of the ladies gave me contact information for my fathers last living first cousin. She is living very close to my siblings! We have written a few letters and spoken on the phone but didn't actually meet until this week.
My first impression was how much she resembles my fathers full sister. She was tickled to learn she actually looks like somebody. As an only child, her life was different too. She told me wonderful stories about my grandfather and his wife, who she was very close to. The whole family lived on the same block. My father and his sister lived at the corner, about four streets down. If they ever knew their aunts and uncles lived within walking distance, they never told us. My cousin R had no knowledge of Dad and B, or baby P.
Cousin R, too, was aghast at the story of her older cousins miserable childhood. It was so completely opposite to hers, just up the street.
We will be visiting again when I manage to get enough nerve to go to the city again.