Identity is something that I have questioned, pretty much, for my entire life. I know for a fact that I have two parents and an older brother, no questions asked about that. Beyond my immediate family, however, was never presented to me in black and white. There was always something new to be discovered.
For instance, my mom is the youngest of four siblings. All of which, are half siblings. My mom’s eldest brother (my God father) has a different mother that is not my maternal grandmother. My mom’s other two siblings (my aunt and other uncle) have a different father that is not my maternal grandfather. My grandmother got a divorce from her first husband and my grandfather had, unfortunately, lost his first wife due to illness. When my grandma and pop-pop (what I refer to them as) met, it was as if they had the chance to find a second perfect match. They were then married and eventually, my mom was born. It is unbelievably wild to think that although my pop-pop’s first wife passed away, if it wasn’t for that death in the family, my mom, my brother, and I, would not exist.
Now, this is where the story gets bizarre. You see, my pop-pop was one of 11 children. I know, insane right? Well, if you think about it, it isn’t that crazy to imagine. When my grandparents were born it was the baby boom age so it was normal to have big families. Anyway, I was only really able to meet one of my pop-pop’s siblings, and that would be my great uncle Bob. When my pop-pop passed away in 2006, my great uncle Bob and his family started coming around more often. I felt like my uncle Bob took me under his wing as a granddaughter since I lost mine. Two years later, in 2008, my great uncle had passed away from cancer. Although he was only in my life for a short period of time, I appreciated every moment I had spent with him. Every last moment filled with laughter and love. To this day, my family and his family are still very close and we spend as many holidays, birthdays, and vacations together as possible and for that I am very fortunate to have such extraordinary people in my life.
Moving on to my dad’s side of the family, the Knowles’, he is also the youngest of four with two older brothers and one sister (my God mom). The only difference between my mom and dad is that all of my dad’s siblings are full siblings. Now, my dad’s family is where I question my identity the most because I have never had the opportunity to meet my paternal grandfather, and neither did my dad. My dad along with his siblings were raised by my mom-mom along with my great grandmother (who I am named after, fun fact). By the time I was old enough to recognize that my paternal grandfather was never in my life, he had already passed away in 2008. I was always curious about his roots and life. I sometimes have this feeling that maybe there is a whole other extended family out there waiting for me to meet them. Regardless, I am more than happy with the family that I have and I am always proud to say that I am a Knowles.
Although my extended family seems a bit confusing to keep up with at times, for those who have been in my life, thank you. Thank you for being there for my major milestones. Thank you for all the laughs, the hugs, the kisses, and the memories. Thank you for helping me mold into the young woman I am today. Even though there are some missing pieces in the family history, there is nothing holding me back from asking questions and digging up the answers to ultimately unveil, my full identity.
