Went to see Benjamin Button yesterday and since then have been wondering about family secrets. When is the best time to pass on delicate information. Is there ever a good time. Or do some secrets need to go to the grave?
Our family secret happened in 1935. On July 1st, my mother gave birth to a baby girl in Toronto. She was just 20 years old. The father of this baby was a business associate of her father and a married man. When my mother began to 'show', her brother brought her from the small Ontario town where they lived to Toronto. She stayed with a good Catholic family until her time came. Within four hours of birth, her baby was baptized and given to a neighbour to raise. She never saw her child again.
Instead of going back home, my mother went to live with her recently married sister in a northern Ontario mining community where she met my father. My Mom and Dad were married the following June (1936) and by May (1937) of the following year my mother had the first of five more children. We grew up in a safe, loving home and I, for sure, had no idea that there was a secret. My mother's family were all able to keep the secret for many years.
I am certain that my father could not have known or suspected anything, ever. My father loved my mother but he was also very self-righteous. He believed there were only two kinds of women and my mother was definitely, in his eyes, at the top of the heap in the good camp. He had quit all communication with one of his own sisters over some moral issue. On looking back, we certainly know why the secret had to have been kept during our years of growing up.
My Dad passed away in the early 80's and my Mom followed two years later. I often wonder why my Mom did not tell us her story during those two years. There might not have been opportunity as we all lived away from the town where we grew up. But we all did visit back and forth during those two years and there were lots of telephone calls. I don't remember any serious conversations during that time. Of course my Mom would have spent a good deal of that time grieving at first. I wonder if she wanted to tell us and didn't know how or if she did not want us to know or if she was just waiting for the opportune time. My mother did have some distinct approaches to life - we were often told to "let sleeping dogs lie" and not to "rock the boat". Maybe she was still applying these principles. I guess we will never know.
In the late 80's, this baby, born on July 1st, 1935, went to apply for a passport for the first time. It was then she discovered her birth name and that she was 'adopted'. She went seeking information which lead her to find us (her siblings). This story was pieced together only after she found us. Everyone who had insight into this situation had passed on by this time so she was left with many unanswered questions.
