This was my mom's father.
I knew him, but not in the same way I knew her stepfather.
They didn't live close by, so he was a name on a birthday card, a photo in an album, and someone who occasionally came to visit.
Shame, really, that I didn't try to make more of a connection.
But I was young and didn't really know any better.
I vividly remember driving up to see my grandparents (my mom's biological father and his wife), and them being dumbfounded by my appearance.
I think I was in my 20's, but one year blends into the other anymore...so I'm not sure.
They just kind-of stared at me.
My mom had to explain that I looked like my dad.
I always took that to mean that I didn't take after her beauty--the dark hair and eyes, the olive skin, the perfect tiny figure.
It left me feeling inadequate, and I'm not sure I've ever gotten over it.
My mom was born in 1925, so I'm assuming this photo was taken somewhere around the turn of the century.
Labels: vintage family photograph