A story.
Prior to mobilising for Africa two weeks ago, I met one of my cousins for the first time ever.
Back in 2008, when I was still at UQ doing a PhD, my family was contacted by a woman searching for information on her grandfather. She had nothing more than his first name, which she found on a document begrudgingly handed over by a member of her family. A google search put her in contact with my siblings, as my brother had listed the name of our recently deceased grandfather as a 'hero' on his Myspace page.
Our grandfather flew flying boats in World War 2 and served in both hemispheres. My family since learned that he had a tryst with a South African woman and fathered a son in Johannesburg prior to ever meeting my grandmother . He returned to Australia not long after the war and refused all contact with the woman and infant son, yet his name was retained on all documentation. This son of his grew up in South Africa before moving to Australia for security reasons and started a family there and never made any effort to reconnect with his biological father whom he never met.
My grandfather died several years ago from skin cancer as a result of sun exposure from extensive hours in flight. The war killed him, its just took 60 years.
My family was initially sceptical of this woman and her claims. A few facts connected up, so we indulged her correspondence and learned more facts that matched up with what we knew about Grandpa. The shocker came when we received photos of her family. My grandfather's never-mentioned first son (my uncle) was damn near identical to his father. He looked more like Grandpa than any of my aunts or uncles. That photo alone stirred up a strong emotional response given his recent death.
Meetings were arranged, Barbecues were had, drinks were shared and tears were shed. This lost uncle of mine felt resentment towards my grandfather, given Grandpa's stonewalling of all communication attempts with him and his mother. It's a bizarre situation - here was a family with whom we shared DNA, but never knew. They were intelligent friendly people and we had loads in common. Even though they were both in Australia at the same time for many years, my uncle never met my grandfather and missed out by only a few years.
So, a few months back I learnt that my cousin (whom initiated the family search and I hadn't yet met) was on tour in Europe with her husband. I caught up with them for a quick ale in London before they went out on their own, so I only had a few hours to get to know them. It's a tricky situation to approach - these people physically look like us but we knew very little about each other.
I'd only just returned from a field trip looking at the Jurassic outcrops along the Bristol channel the day before. I had 24 hours to tidy myself up and pack for the trip to Africa, as well as have lunch with a friend from Trinidad who was in the UK for work. It'll be years until I see him again so despite having a bunch of shit to pack, meeting him was a priority.
As such, I didn't have much time to compute the meeting with my lost cousin and will endeavour to follow them up soon. Of course, I'll never get to know them as well as my cousins I grew up with, but at least there's another bunch of people to have a beer with next time I'm in Adelaide.
A moment of poignancy: I recall the exact time my cousin contacted me 4 years ago. After growing disenchanted with my PhD and academia, I had decided to quit. It was the most difficult decision I'd ever made as I'd worked for years to get to my goal of being a palaeontologist; there were high expectations from a range of different parties (two universities, the Qld Museum; several third-party laboratories); I was on an expensive and prestigious scholarship; and I had nothing else to fall back on and (despite a good education) was staring at the void of unemployment. AusGAF was a thing I posted on at that time, and I don't recall if I shared any of this.
Yesterday, I stood on the helipad of a >USD$1mill/day drill rig and watched flying fish jump in and out of the Indian Ocean as the sun set over the east coast of Africa.
The time-markers of: a) receiving correspondence from my cousin for the first time; and b) finally meeting her in person are essentially the bookends for a very tumultuous period of my professional life. Quitting my childhood dream of becoming Alan Grant was painful, but I think I made the right decision.
tl;dr: Grandpa got around.