Biological Fathers Cause Cancer

My mother was three months old when my her "stepfather" came into her life. To say stepfather is a misnomer. My mother always considered him to be her father. She did not know any differently. He was the only father figure in her life.

She did know that he wasn't her biological father. She and her older brother had a different last name than the rest of the family. My grandmother and grandfather eventually had one child together.

Though my mother has never said, I understand that he was the golden child. My mom's older brother? The spitting image of my grandmother's first husband and a daily reminder of that failed marriage. My mother? The inconvenient middle child.

Both my mother and her older brother have terrible migraines. Terrible. The kind that leave them weeping between fits of vomiting. That keep them in bed behind closed shutters whimpering at any sound, cowering from any pinpoint of light.

There were likely many factors to which I am not privy, but my mother and her older brother sought out their biological father. They knew his whereabouts, and they knew that he was in ill health. I imagine they sought him out for closure. They sought him out for an answer to the crippling migraines from which they suffered.

All of this was kept secret from my grandmother. She had an absolute hatred of her former spouse. I am not saying she was not entitled to hate him, but her hatred should have had nothing to do with her children and their need for answers.

My mom's father understood the need for their search. While he may not have given his overt blessing, he understood their desire and did not oppose contact.

My grandmother, on the other hand, found out. To say she flipped her shit would be an understatement.

Shortly after these events occurred, my grandfather developed cancer. Lung cancer. He was an avid pipe smoker and had smoked since adolescence.

My grandmother blamed my mom. So did her younger brother and his entire family.

They told us that the stress of my mom finding and talking with her biological father had caused his cancer.

My grandfather died a horrible and painful death. Up to the day he died, and for many years afterwards, my grandmother and the rest of the family maintained that my mother and her older brother were to blame.

It was her fault that her father developed cancer.

It was her fault that her father was dead.

She had killed her father because she was so selfish.

It has taken many years for these wounds to heal. Stony silence has been replaced with laughter. Family gatherings are jovial with lot of hugs and kisses and good-natured teasing.

But I remember.

I look at my cousin who is now a registered nurse. Every time she talks about her husband visiting his "real dad," I want to ask her in front of everyone if she still believes cancer is caused by visiting ones biological father.

I want to slap her smarmy little face.

But I don't.

I laugh and smile and hug in return.

I try to ignore the screaming in my heart.