The Stranger who Became a Friend

It was September 15, 2016.  I was at a breaking point because I still hadn’t told anyone my secret.  I hadn’t talked with my mother about my discovery, either. I was struggling with it all.  I kept setting dates in my head when I would do it, and then I would make an excuse not to do it.  (bargaining – another form of grief).

But on that particular night of September 15, I was scrolling mindlessly on Facebook, trying to escape. Something from the New England Historic Genealogical Society caught my eye. They just released a new book called “The Stranger in My Genes” by Bill Griffeth. The words “DNA test” and “father, not his biological father” jumped out at me, and I stopped dead in my tracks to read the entire post. I downloaded it immediately on my Kindle. It was a life-changing moment for me.

From my journal, looking back, I drafted an email as soon as I finished it. I ended up sharing it with Bill later in our friendship.

Dear Bill,

I’m exhausted and bleary eyed this morning and I blame you. I blame you because when your new book showed up in my Facebook feed yesterday, I downloaded it to my Kindle and read it in one sitting. It took me until 3:30am this morning. But I couldn’t risk putting it down to find out how the story ends.

My heart stopped when I saw the feed with your book announced. Almost that same achy, burning, knot I felt in my heart and in my soul when my world spun upside down 18 months ago.

For the first time in over a year, I felt seen and validated. I felt the gamut of emotions reading Bill’s book, which was heartfelt, honest, vulnerable, and so moving I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I reread it the next night and stayed up all night. Then, I went back and read specific paragraphs and sentences and underlined the most meaningful things that spoke to me. I had exclamation points in the margins. I was obsessive about it.

Besides being a financial journalist and news anchor on CNBC, Bill is also an avid genealogist. Like me, he wasn’t especially interested in DNA stuff either, but he took a test in 2012 at the urging of his cousin, who was also a genealogist. Weeks later, Bill was at work when his cousin emailed him and told him that Bill’s Dad couldn’t possibly be his biological father based on the DNA results. After retaking the test (“Obviously there was a mistake”) and having his brother test, the reality hit him hard. His Dad had passed away by then, but Bill’s 95-year-old mother was still alive and sharp as a tack. Bill had a good childhood with parents he loved very much, like me. He struggled with the same feelings of loss of identity that I did. Bill writes about his journey in such detail, the highs and lows of his grief process, his conversation with his mother, and his trying his best to move forward living his new truth.

If you are an NPE or know someone who is, please read this book. It literally saved me from having a nervous breakdown. For the first time, I could see that someone expressing the same thoughts and feelings as I could get to the other side of this.

I became obsessed with contacting Bill and communicating with him. I found him on Twitter. I couldn’t Tweet anything publicly to him because I was afraid family and friends I knew who followed me on Twitter would discover my secret. So I tried to message him. But we had to be following each other to DM. So, I followed him, and then I tweeted to him:

Thankfully, he didn’t think it was too weird, and he followed me almost immediately, messaged me, and said, “What can I do for you, Jenny?”

It just all came pouring out of me like a fountain. The poor guy probably didn’t know what hit him. I think he could sense that if I was reaching out to a stranger, I must be really distraught. Over the next several days, I couldn’t stop writing about what I had discovered, what I had been through, and how heartbroken and grief-stricken I was at this discovery. I wrote until I felt emotionally drained.

They say people come into your life for a reason. Bill and I are good friends to this day. I feel like he and his wife, Cindy, were put into my life for a reason. I could have never gotten through this without his calm and steady reassurance. He encouraged me to feel whatever I felt and not apologize for it. He encouraged me to journal. He shared his struggles, even though it had been over four years for him. He made me realize that there was no “getting over” this but that I could “get through” this. I could live with this. Even if it still hurt.

I told my husband shortly after I read Bill’s book. And, of course…it was a tremendous, tremendous relief. My husband felt terrible that I kept it to myself for so long. But, after being married to me for over 25 years, he knew how I needed to do things in my own time. I would rely on him for this next challenging phase. I was gearing myself up for talking to Mom. I couldn’t wait much longer because of her declining health.

---

This is my NPE story of discovering in 2015 that my Dad was not my biological Dad. If you’d like to follow along, I encourage you start at my first post of the series HERE.