The other day I came across this slightly blurred photograph of my children’s biological parents.
No… my children weren’t adopted, if that’s what you’re thinking. But, these two parents didn’t last together. I was only 16, and he was only 19.
Heaven knows we tried! But as we “grew up”, we also grew apart. One day I came home from work, after fifteen years of marriage to find his bags packed and sitting by the back door. He explained, he had to go “find” himself. By that time, I’d had more than my share, and politely informed him not to let the door hit him in the backside on the way out.
Leaving was the kindest thing he ever did for me.
After he left, he had nothing more to do with us. Not me. Not the children. [Who are all grown now and have blessed me multiple times with grandchildren!]
So, what does a genealogist do with photographs such as this?
While I am not thrilled about keeping it, and including it in our history, one really should. For the sake of future generations, that will, of course, carry this man’s genes.
While I cannot say I proudly display my early years in our family history, I do tell it. And I share it with the grandchildren. [Whose parents call this man their “biological father”.]
While our grandchildren call my wonderful husband “PawPaw”, and my children call him “Dad”, one day they might want to know what that “biological” parent actually looked like.
A whole other lifetime ago.