Hello everyone! I have something to share that has been so long in the making, something incredibly close to my heart. As of late, I've been on a life changing journey that I have prayed for since childhood. Some of you who know me personally may know that one of the driving reasons behind my interest in genealogy comes from my own personal family mystery. As can be seen in my previous posts, I am extremely close with my grandparents, and based off of our relationship, some may be surprised to learn that they are actually my grandparents via adoption. I am beyond grateful to say that this has never hindered our relationship, and I couldn't have asked for better family. With that being said, I would like to open up the dialogue to tell y'all a little more about my backstory.
Growing up, my dad never knew his biological father. In fact, it wasn't until he was a teenager that he was made aware that the man on his birth certificate and who he called "dad", was not his biological father. Thankfully, this didn't sour the relationship between the two, and my dad still shares fond memories of Charles Moore Sr. Sadly, Charles and my father's mother eventually separated, leaving my dad without a consistent father figure. This led to more questions about his biological father, especially as he grew into adulthood.
It was my great aunt Nellie, my father's mother's sister, that had the information that my father was seeking. She shared basic information that she recalled from decades prior, as my father by this time was in his thirties. She shared a name, home state, estimated age, and a few other details, and it was from here that the search began. Aunt Nellie made a point to emphasize how much my dad favored his father, who she had met all those years ago. My father spent decades searching for his estranged biological family, to no avail. I grew up knowing about our family mystery, my dad sharing age-appropriate pieces of information over the years and carefully answering my questions. I too grew curious and wanted to know more about our roots.
I was about thirteen or fourteen when I began my own search for answers. Newspaper clippings, phone books, and finally, an Ancestry.com account, thanks to my mom. I spent years filing through documents and directories, all the while sending message after message to strangers, all along the lines of "Do you know this person?" I too failed to make any real progress, until I was gifted a DNA test kit. Of course I was interested to learn more about my heritage, but I knew what answers I really hoped the test would bring.
When I received the results, my heart raced as I filed through the matches. There, I saw three close matches with the last name that Aunt Nellie had given my father in the 1990s. I knew that this had opened a new door for my dad and I. I reached out to a few of the matches, and relatives of matches via social media several times over the course of the next few years. It was this past April (2025) that the final breakthrough was made. I was in the car with my step-mom when I got a notification on Facebook Messenger. It was a member of our missing biological family, a cousin, named Mikka. She had caught wind of my search and reached out to me. She too is the granddaughter of my once mysterious paternal grandfather, named Mack. Her mother, Joan, is my dad's older sister. Joan hadn't taken a DNA test, therefor I never knew to look for her. She had slipped under my radar. Best of all, they wanted to know us.
I had never experienced a feeling quite like that one, it was everything I had dreamed it would be. We rushed home to the farm to tell my father the news that he had waited all of his sixty-two years for. That was the first time I've seen him shed tears of joy. I did too, and have many times since then. A couple days later, I called Joan to go over everything, as she was gracious enough to give me her phone number. This was the phone call that had played in my mind a million times over throughout my life. She met me with such kindness and warmth, I knew that my life had been forever changed. We were so quickly welcomed into the family and shown nothing but outpouring love. Most of the family lives in Arkansas, a moderate driving distance, but it was unanimously agreed to meet as soon as possible.
The first meeting of our new family came in July when Joan's son Brett and wife Cheyenne were visiting a local tourist town here in my father and I's home state of Missouri to celebrate their anniversary. We had decided to meet for lunch at a local favorite restaurant. Our emotions were high, I really couldn't believe this was finally happening. When the pair arrived, we were greeted with so much love and enthusiasm, I felt a joy that surpassed anything I had known before. Hugs were traded and we had so much to discuss, we had altogether forgotten we were supposed to order a meal. This day will stay so vivid in my mind.
From here, we knew we had to make our plans to meet Joan. Finding the time and ability to take a day off can be difficult when in the farming business, but we finally managed to make it happen this past weekend! My dad and I were up bright and early Sunday morning to make the two-and-a-half-hour drive into rural Arkansas. I was so excited I nearly sent myself into a panic attack. The drive was beautiful and flew by as we chattered about the miracle taking place. When we arrived at Joan's house, we stood there in the driveway for a moment before going to the door, absorbing the moment, reflecting, and appreciating. Somehow the sun seemed to shine brighter that day, and the colors of the world more vivid.
When we reached the door, several family members met us there. Smiles, hugs, and greetings erupted. Expressions of shock due to my father's striking resemblance to Mack passed around the room. I had never been here before, but I felt as if I had just gotten home. I ran to my Aunt Joan and wrapped my arms around her at the first given chance. I worked my way around the group, finally ending with Mikka. She took me in and I let out a sigh of relief as I melted into her arms. Two more family members then arrived, Mikka's two daughters. Also there is Brett and Cheyenne, and this time we got to meet one of their sons as well! We all filed into the living area and sat in a big circle, covering sixty-two years of lost time. I looked around at everyone, and once again I struggle to find the words to describe such a feeling. Each of these people had shown up for us and met us with unconditional love, no questions asked.
After visiting some, Joan announced that she had made banana pudding for us all. She had no way of knowing that banana pudding is one of my dad's all-time favorite desserts, but it seems some kind of higher power had whispered in her ear. We piled into the kitchen and all had a bowl of the delicious pudding as we looked through several family photos and documents, much to my dad and I's amazement. Even a family member in Texas who couldn't be there to meet us called on FaceTime to be a part of the celebration and send us her love. I prayed that it wasn't all a dream.
Eventually we had to begin our haul back to Southeast Missouri, but I am already looking forward to seeing my new family again. We've already made plans for upcoming holidays and day trips. It's hard to fit a journey like this into one blog post, so I would really like to delve into things more in the future with my family's blessing. I've learned that my grandfather Mack was a vibrant character, loved by his friends and community, something I am so proud of. Mack passed away in 1986 never knowing about my father's existence, so our meeting will have to wait. Though I can't help but think that he is proudly watching over us all as we reunite and come together.
We still have more family to meet and lots of bonding to do, along with chasing down those ancestral roots that nearly slipped through my fingers. I'm eager to update on my journey in the future, as I fully enjoy and savor these blessings. To my newfound family, thank you for everything, and I am so happy to finally know your love. At this point in the journey, I suppose the only pivotal question I have left, is if it is too soon to say "I love you."
