I was born the family historian, sketching family trees with my crayons as a young child. At 16 I even took my parents on a trip, visiting my mother's birthplace, to discover more about our heritage.
My passion for family history did not fade with the years. As a Christmas gift from my husband in 2015, I received an Ancestry DNA test. I spat in a plastic tube and mailed it off, waiting in anticipation to see my parent’s ethnicity represented in my DNA. When my results finally arrived, I quickly saw the English, Scottish and Irish side that I easily identified from my mum’s side. More unexpectedly, I found a confusing result: 24 per cent Iberian and 11 per cent Native American. Iberian ancestry comes from the southwestern side of Europe and includes countries of Spain and Portugal. My dad was German, the grandson of an immigrant from Schleswig-Holstein, Germany. Because I had no Spanish or Native American ancestors that I’d ever learned about, I chalked it up to test error.
Months after the DNA test, a woman emailed me out of the blue for help finding her biological father. I was very surprised to learn the test company matches individuals who share DNA. This stranger claimed to be my cousin, and her letter prompted me to open my DNA results again. Unknown to me at the time, what I would discover would change my life forever.
When I began to search, I discovered a list with hundreds of names. In this list I found cousins from my mum’s side of the family, individuals with her and my grandmother’s maiden names. Searching for cousins on my dad’s side proved to be more difficult. Several searches by surname and location turned up empty, and my nerves slowly began to build. As the hour grew later I kept asking myself, 'what was I seeing,' or perhaps more importantly, 'what was I not seeing?'
As I scanned through the list of names again, it occurred to me that about three-quarters of the surnames were Hispanic. Suddenly, I remembered the Iberian and Native American results in my ethnicity estimates. A name caught my eye: Chavez. An old forgotten memory flashed in my mind, and my heart began to race. I remembered a man. He was my mother’s friend, and she spoke of him occasionally through the years. He joined my mum and I at a local amusement park when I was 15. She had a fancy necklace he had given her that I would gaze at when I was a little girl. His name was Bill Chavez!
Later while trying to sleep, I had flashbacks of being in a kitchen with bird cages nearby. Bill was sitting at the table with my mother and a woman in a pink housecoat. My mum had told me she was Bill’s wife. I heard my mother's voice clearly in my mind. "I took you to see Bill Chavez when you were little."
Bill Chavez, Linda's biological mum. Photo: Supplied Source: Supplied
The next morning, I awoke determined to discover if my suspicions were correct. I spent hours constructing a family tree for Bill Chavez using public records. As the final test, I added myself as his daughter and attached my DNA. I checked back later and was stunned to see hundreds of matches with common ancestors! Bill Chavez wasn’t just my mum’s friend from long ago. He was my biological father.
My world changed that day. I became obsessed with learning everything I could about him. Plunging forward, I located my first cousins through public records and reached out to one. She reluctantly agreed to take a DNA test. Six weeks later, the results came back and we shared a large amount of DNA. She called me and said, “hi cousin.” I realised this meant that not only had I gained a father, I also had 12 new first cousins.
I am sometimes asked if I regret taking the DNA test. Embracing my family ethnicity and history have been part of my personal identity since I was small. Even though I was unprepared, discovering my biological father was an important part of my story. My dad will always be my dad. I wonder if he knew, but I will never have the answers that I long for. All three of my parents have passed away. Still I have gained wonderful new family members, and when I look at photos of Bill Chavez I see my own features in his face. My adult sons look so much like him.
It is a basic human need to know where we come from. Each discovery I made confirmed this unexpected and unwanted personal truth that had been concealed from me all my life, but it is my truth. It is my family story, and now I know.
