Finding your roots

At about age 50, I started to be intrigued with my family and their ancestors. I wanted to know where I came from. I therefore started investigating and researching my family background as much as I could with what resources I had at my fingertips. My Father, a font of wisdom, had died in l992 and so therefore I could not use him as my resource. My Mother knew a little bit about my Father's side of the family, but I needed to do some more work on my own to find out what I could about his family. My Mother had already given me as much as she knew about her lineage and ancestors, and so I then began what turned out to be a 10 year mission to try and meet all the living relatives on my Father's side and to travel to their homes (wherever in the world that took me) and also to visit my Grandfather's gravesite in Northern France.

The first "mission" was to travel to the small town of Arras in Northern France, near the Belgian border, where my Grandfather was buried. He had been killed in l9l8 during the First World War at the Battle of Arras, and buried in a very small cemetary in the middle of a farmer's field. Through the National War Graves Commission, I was able to find out the cemetary name - Aubignby - and directions. It was difficult to find the exact grave, and without realizing it, I could have found the book with plots and names at the front gate, but being too keen to find my Grandfather and plant the flowers on his grave, I overlooked that! Eventually, I stood before the grave, with its plain and simple cross with his details enscribed thereon. Beside him, was - ironically - a Canadian - about the same age - 33 years old. The emotions were multiple - here lay a Grandfather I never met, never knew, but felt a connection to. He was my Father's Father - someone my Father himself did not remember, but who had left letters and photographs which made him live in our memories as a real and vital person. I planted my white Crysanthemum on his grave, and wrote a message to him on the card saying that I was his grand-daughter and I wish I had known him, and then I took some photographs. It was a haunting and deeply emotional experience, but a satisfying one too. I am so glad that I went.
During the following years, I looked up all my Father's living relatives, and one by one, I connected with them. Some were in New Zealand, to which Doug and I travelled 2 years ago. We met them all and found them to be lovely people, who were so delighted and thrilled that I had made that journey to see them. My Father's cousin, Margot, was still alive and approaching her 90th birthday at the time. She had been a special favourite of my Father's - they had played together as young children and been very close. Then her Mother, recently widowed, had taken her young family of four off to New Zealand to start a new life. They never returned except on holidays from time to time, but my Father always spoke of Margot and how much he missed her. She and I had a wonderful meeting, bonding together over photographs of the family and telling each other stories from our memories of my Father. She gave me some important photos of the family during the early years before she had left England, and I treasure these. Her four children were all there in North Island New Zealand, and apart from her only son, Terry, I was able to meet up with the three daughters, Pat, Jill and Wendy, and have a great time with all of them.
On that same trip "down under" I also looked up my own first cousin, Meriel, the daugher of my Father's only brother. She had married an Australian and was living in Canberra. We visited she and her husband on their farm outside Canberra and again, spent many hours talking about our family and the connections. Then we went to Sydney, and met her only natural daughter (she adopted 3 children from Sri Lanka) Sophie and husband, Andre, and again, had a wonderful time together and a great visit. She is now expecting their first child in September. Another relative to visit one day!
Last year, on a visit to see my Mother, I looked up yet another of my Father's relations - one of the other cousins who used to play together with Margot. She is now 93, still driving her new BMW, still living completely alone, and still with "all her marbles". What an amazing group of women these relatives turned out to be. Long lived, vibrant, interesting, and fun! I hope I have inherited some of those genes. Mary and I got along famously, and her daughter, Marney and son David were also introduced to me. I had not seen them since I was aboaut 7 years old when they came down to see my Father for a visit.
The following week, I arranged to meet my second cousin, Thomas Wyatt (the structural engineer of bridges from a previous blog) - his wife, and my first cousin, Meriel, at a pub in the lovely little town of Arundel, where my family used to live before moving out to the big house near Chichester in l959. Thomas, his wife Eileen, and Meriel and her husband, Lance, all met for a pub lunch, and the requisite photographs. Once again, I realized the importance of connecting with one's roots. It was so rewarding to sit together and look at each person around the table and realize that they were connected through my Father, by blood and ancestry.
I believe that I have now met up with almost all of the relatives on my Father's side. I was not able to connect with Thomas and Eileen's daughter, Marie-Claire, but I have met her in my life, and so I did not feel that I had failed to close the circle.
With a great sense of accomplishment and satisfaction, I returned to Canada and set about putting together some notes and papers for my children and their families, so that when they eventually reach the point where they, too, feel the need to "find their roots" they will have something to start with and may not need to take 10 years or more to accomplish it!