Only one grandchild, Nina, out of my three children. I adore my twelve-year-old daughter. As I was doing the granny shuffle of dishes and daydreaming in my cosy kitchen last month, my lovely granddaughter chose to turn up the noise on her phone call with a friend.
I mean, I don’t mind a little excitement, but I had to put on my grandmother hat when the child started throwing F-bombs like it was the Olympics of profanity. “Hey, sweetie, mind your language, okay?” With a classic stern granny face, I said.
Then, without warning, she asked me, “Why are you concerned? Anyway, you’re not my grandmother.” It goes without saying that I was shocked.
Trying not to lose my temper, I asked her where she got the ridiculous idea. “I’m too dark to be your grandchild, which means my mum cheated on my dad,” she shockingly revealed. She then slammed her room’s door shut.
My universe seemed to have broken into a million pieces all of a sudden. Startled and anxious, I sought the assistance of my daughter-in-law Tina to help me sort things out since I couldn’t let this uncertainty continue.
I was astonished, too, but so did Tina, bless her. We sat down with Nina because we knew we had to find out what was going on. We asked her, confidently and gently, who had informed her that I was not her true grandmother. Initially silent, Nina eventually acknowledged that Tina’s mother, Stacey, was the one who introduced her to this ridiculous story.
Allow me to now illustrate our family tree. Like my son, I am Caucasian. Black are Tina and Nina.
The fact that her granddaughter having white parents shocked Stacey. Because of Nina’s dark complexion, she said Nina, her mom definitely cheated on her dad. Stacey said there was no way Nina could have a pale grandmother like me. Nina was not readily persuaded, despite Tina’s passionate denials of adultery.
Tina took the lead to clear the air. To establish beyond a shadow of a doubt that I am Nina’s real grandmother, she purchased a DNA test. While the waiting game was nerve-racking, there was a moment of amazement and relief as the results were revealed, much like the big finale of a fireworks show. I always felt deep down that I was Nina’s genuine grandmother, and the DNA test verified that.
Nina ran into my arms after the findings were revealed and apologised for not believing that we were connected. To be honest, I was also relieved since this grandchild of mine meant the world to me. We had a genuine heart-to-heart conversation.
However, the story didn’t stop there. With severe warnings that meetings with Nina were only permitted on Tina’s terms and in the presence of either her or her husband, Tina forwarded the DNA findings to Stacey directly. Although it was a difficult romantic gesture, it was done to uphold our familial ties.
Thanksgiving was almost approaching now. Tensions were high, and the turkey wasn’t the only thing roasting. Tina, Nina’s mother, insisted that we go to Stacey’s for Thanksgiving. I felt conflicted. While a part of me wanted to move on from the past, another part of me was still devastated by what she had done.
Ultimately, I gave in. To put it mildly, the mood was tense. The DNA test proved to be too much for Stacey to ignore. A moment of mixed feelings as the family came together in spite of the storms that threatened to split us apart.
Thus, Thanksgiving came to pass. To our collective amazement, Stacey’s cooking lived up to its past reputation. Perhaps there remained hope for those casseroles. Above all, though, our love and laughter at the table demonstrated that family always wins out even in the face of the most difficult doubts. During the dinner, Stacey also apologised to me, and I chose to accept her apology.
