Just over 31 years ago, on December 31, 1980 when I was four months old, my great-grandfather on my paternal side who I have no memory of wrote my parents a letter in his beautiful penmanship. A very brief and simple letter, but heartfelt and kind. Enclosed inside was a savings bond he had purchased for me. My mother had tucked it away to become completely forgotten about until just recently when I had asked her for my APGAR score and other baby milestone information I was interested in for a school paper. She found it hidden away in her closet and she gave it to me on christmas.

As a starving college student I am very grateful to this man I do not know for planting this little seedling gift for me to be stumbled upon at time when it couldn't possibly be more valued. I also am very intrigued and awestruck by a deep sense of irony. The amount of this matured bond is approximately how much it will cost me for the decision I made over my christmas visit with my family, to legally change my last name.

I wish I knew more about this man, but I don't know a thing. I have never even seen a picture of him that I can recall. But in his short little letter, he thanked my parents for pictures sent of me, said that I was beautiful, and that he was very proud of me. I shed a few tears as I read those words, wishing I could know the sound of his voice, never having heard such things from my own father. I wonder how he would have felt to know that his great grand baby would one day decide to shed the name he passed on to her, not due to marriage, but simply from a desire to separate herself from the name. I wonder if he'd still be proud? I hope that he would hear my heart and understand my reasons.

For many years I tried to understand the gulf between my father and I. I struggled with "bad daughter" complex because things just never felt right, I figured surely there was a way for me to fix it, if I could just figure it out, be a better daughter. Things only progressed to more complicated and painful over the years though. It got to the point where it was all I had in me to muster up the strength to visit on birthdays and father's day, christmas. Then it became finding the courage to make phone calls on those days, sometimes I could do it, other times I failed. At this point I haven't spoken to him at all in at least a year, maybe two now, not even sure. I sent a gift card on father's day and made a last few phone calls that were never answered or returned. So I stopped. I set down the complex, and kept walking.

I reflect on the past sometimes and try to conjure up some good memories with my father. I have been able to think of a few, but I can count them on one hand. Its hard to pick them out of the sad things that flood my mind in reflection. Since we don't speak I don't know for sure what's going on in his life right now, but through other family members I hear that he is a very low place. I hear things, things that I wish I could empty from my ears. Things that make my heart just ache. Things I do not want to be associated with. I had entertained the idea of changing my name for some time now, but the idea just went off in me like fireworks as I pondered over all the new things I had heard. It hit me that it was time, and that it would be a monument in my life, a marking point of my setting down the past and moving forward into who I WANT to be.

I plan to take my mother's maiden name, as I have always felt a closer and more secure connection with her side of the family and I miss her parents terribly. I considered choosing a random name I just liked the sound of, but I would rather honor my grandparents and retain an element of connection to a clan name. Clan McClellan. I feel some peace in just making this choice and am excited for the day that I make it official!

Great-grandfather,

thank you for your kind gift and words. I apologize to you and to my grandfather as well if my choice upsets you, it is just something that will help me be a better me.

It is THUNDERING outside as I am about to post this!