When I look in the mirror, what do I see?
I see my father’s eyes, looking back at me.
The color of my soul, deep within who I am,
Is reflected in the eyes, of this complicated man.
Q. How did you come to write a song about your NPE experience?
A. More than seven years ago, one of my best friends discovered she had a sister. I thought it was exciting. We even ventured to Tarpon Springs from Jacksonville and Hudson, FL for lunch so they could meet in person.
The next thing I knew, I was opening my own DNA results and uncovering something I never expected. Words cannot fully describe the feeling. The inner and outer turmoil it created—in me and in the web of people connected to me—was overwhelming.
It was too much to process on my own, and I wasn’t ready to call my therapist yet. So, I reached for the best friend I keep in the drawer by my bed: a pen. I began to write. Then I began to blog. During the pandemic, I wrote a memoir, Ancestry Discoveries: What Happens Under the Sheets Doesn’t Stay There. Sometimes it felt as though we were under house arrest. The process of this discovery and all the soul excavation that followed led me to remember and reacquaint myself with who I was before. Some of the creative parts of me had been locked away. This experience became the key— the impetus for unlocking every gorgeous door and window I could find.
Even if I was the only one who thought they were gorgeous.
When the world shut down; I kept working—on my own Ancestry Discovery Recovery.
Q: Had you written songs before?
A: I wrote songs when I was in high school. When I was three years old I played music by ear on the wartime piano my parents had in the sunroom. They were gracious enough to offer me lessons at various times throughout my life, and music was my therapy. Because I loved to write, even as an adolescent, writing songs was something I did, and I enrolled in a music theory class as an elective in high school. I wrote songs easily as a testimonial to people I held in high regard. In college, when my dad was retiring after 50 years with the same company, I sang and performed a song I wrote for him at his retirement dinner. Writing love songs was always easy.
Q: What was the process—how did you find and work with collaborators?
A: A year after the lyrics were written, I was thinking to myself, “Self, you ought to do something with those lyrics.” I sat down at the keyboard and froze. The year before, when the lyrics were written, I’d thought about calling my high school friend Mauro Melleno, a composer, (Santini in Ancestry Discoveries: What Happens Under the Sheets Doesn’t Stay There). I didn’t do it then, but this time, frozen in front of the keyboard, I decided to follow my intuition.
I asked Mauro if he would be the Elton John to my Bernie Taupin. Within 24 hours of sending him the lyrics, I received a video of Mauro singing our song. We decided it needed to go to the studio.
Q: What inspired you to do this now?
A: My DNA discovery nearly broke me. Over the last seven years, diligently working on making sense of things, I wrote and then wrote some more. My own sanity seemed to depend on it. I facilitate Inner Child workshops to help others recover from their own ancestry discoveries. In April 2024, I facilitated a workshop at a Hiraeth, Hope & Healing Retreat. During the retreat, there was a songwriting workshop with Zara Phillips that piqued my interest. Zara sang and then had us work on our own lyrics. It had been eons since I even attempted such a thing. The song sat for a year on my desk in my office, collecting dust. Then, for some unknown reason, it felt like it was time. I’ve spent the last several years reconnecting to myself through the activities I used to love. I felt so lost with this betrayal; I had to find myself again. Mauro’s turnaround time helped the process take on a life of its own. It was kismet. I honestly had no intention of going into production so quickly.
Q: What particularly inspired this song?
A: After my discovery, I spent an inordinate amount of time in front of the mirror looking in my eyes every time I used a bathroom. (At my age, this is frequent). Having several pictures of my biological father and noting the similarities with him and my newfound sister and one aunt in particular, the similarity in our eyes never ceased to amaze me. I find myself still staring at my “new” aunt, whom I lovingly refer to as my doppelganger. My deceased biological father, Barry, and his deceased brother, Ricky, also shared a strong resemblance.
“These are his eyes,” I’d stare. I wondered if I looked deeper could I capture a remnant of his spirit so I might understand who he was. He struggled with addiction, but I wanted to know the human soul who suffered through his own traumas, including the probable pain of relinquishment. I’d challenged my own healing process by participating in a full day of healing at Hiraeth. I was there to heal from my “new father” connection. The inspiration seemed instantaneous.
Q: How did writing a song help you process grief or loss?
A: “The Looking Glass” made me cry more than once. The first time I heard it, I cried. I could not find the words to express how grateful I was to Mauro for doing such an incredible job with the haunting melody. My husband, Ray, painted the cover for the song using a photo I took when we were in the Keys. The three of us produced this together. I was not alone. Creating art, music, writing, feels like a soul excavation. Sometimes it felt and still feels like the only way to release what is inside is to keep on creating. The connection continues to assist me in moving through my own grieving process.
Q: Do you have plans to write more?
A: Hell ya! “The Lesson” is currently in production. I had no plans to write more songs, but they seem to be flowing rather easily these days, so I am going to go with the flow. When I spoke to Mauro about “The Lesson,” he suggested we wait on the studio as he felt there might be more. That made me smile as initially I had no intention of writing any more songs, but then “The Lesson” happened. It was inspired by my son’s girlfriend. We were up late the first night we met, and out of nowhere she disclosed she didn’t know who her father was. How ironic, I remember thinking, of course she doesn’t. It is profound that we all find each other. During one of our conversations, she asked me to give her piano lessons. I knew under the circumstances there would be more I would pass along other than notes. “The Lesson” is a metaphor for music and for something I had to learn for myself. Now, I can hopefully pass that lesson on to others. There’s a third song in the birthing process that I started to write this morning.
Book two is in the works, Ancestry Discoveries: Go Deeper and Come Home. I interviewed individuals who are also affected by our discoveries—siblings (new and original), a newly discovered father, spouses, and first moms, for example. It was an emotional experience for me, but it helped to provide insight and connection into all of our experiences.
There’s a stand-up comedy routine in the works, and I have enough material for a one woman play.
Q: How can people hear the song?
A: If they subscribe to a streaming service they can find it here. If they don’t, they can find it here. I hope the music helps everyone. Music is magic. Please share the music, perhaps it can help someone else to heal.
Visit Annette at www.AncestryDiscoveries.com and www.AnnetteLBecklund.com, and write to her at AnnetteLBecklund@gmail.com.
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