Sometimes family secrets transform everything; they often reveal themselves when you least expect them. An innocent inquiry about her curly blonde hair from my granddaughter Lindsey set off a discovery that rocked our planet completely.
This is the biography of my amazing granddaughter, Lindsey. Because of the distance, I missed being as present in the life of my three grandsons as I would have desired. Birthdays, holidays, and all the little events that count were missed.
Still, I will never forget the first time I saw Lindsey barely six months old. Something caught me right away—her hair. It was curly and blonde, quite unlike the black hair everyone else in the family possessed.
I first paid little attention to it. One can find oddity in genetics like that. I reasoned it had to have come from some far-off cousin. But Lindsey started asking questions as she developed since her distinctions were becoming obvious.
“Grandma,” she would question, “why don’t I look like Mom or Dad?” The degree of her disturbance shattered my heart. I would try to console her by reminding her that families do not usually look like one another and perhaps her golden curls sprang from some far-off part of our ancestry.
Still, the queries did not end there. Lindsey also told me how children in the classroom would point out the variations. She said, wounded: “They ask why I don’t look like Mom.” Some even jokingly say I have to be adopted.
It became a cause of great anxiety rather than merely schoolyard taunting. Tears in her eyes, “Why won’t Mom and Dad let me take a DNA test?” she begged me. “What are they hiding??”
I came up short with an answer. Years of wondering the same thing. Her parents had always dismissed any discussion of Lindsey’s differences, but now I couldn’t ignore it any more seeing how deeply it affected her. Though I felt powerless, I wanted to shield her and guide her toward the truth.
I thus asked my close pals for guidance. These ladies had gone through lots of family secrets and conflicts personally. They listened and over coffee they pushed me to probe further.
Always the pragmatic Maggie asked, “Do you think they’re hiding something, or are they just being cautious?”
Never one to back down, Sue said, “Why not let her take the test if there is nothing to hide? It’s not as though DNA tests are a major event these days.
They had it right. By now Lindsey was fifteen, and her interest was intensifying rather than disappearing. I so decided. Knowing full well it would cause complications, I got Lindsey a DNA test behind her parents’ backs. But I could not stand to watch her struggle with not knowing.
The results that at last arrived revealed more than we were ready for. Lindsey was not physically connected to her mother. Years ago, my son had buried deep a secret he had created—fathered her with another woman.
The effects came right away. Furious and blaming me of splitting the family apart, my son and his wife Still, Lindsey was the one with true heartbreak. Everyone, her parents, her family, even me, seemed to have betrayed her. Her whole conception of her identity had been dashed.
Complicating things, Lindsey’s biological mother had been attempting to get in touch for years, but my son had kept her away in hopes the truth would remain secret. The truth was now out there, and going back was not possible.
Lindsey felt disoriented and had no idea who to believe. Our once-close connection grew strained, and I start to doubt whether I acted morally. Though perhaps some secrets are better left buried, I felt I was guiding her toward the truth. Once family secrets come to light, there is no reversing the harm they cause to your life.
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