Late Discovery, Too Late

An acquaintance, I’ll call Becky, recently got back in town after being with her favorite aunt during the final days of her life.  Her aunt’s last words were, “I am your mother.”

Becky wanted me to tell her if I thought it was true.  I asked her to tell me more about her life and the relationship with her aunt and her mother.  Her mother died two years ago and did not want Auntie anywhere near her.  Becky said her mother always hated her sister while Becky felt a real closeness to Auntie.  Becky was 14 years younger than Auntie and cried every time Auntie came to visit and left again.  Auntie lived in an eastern city and Becky and parents lived on a farm in the mid-west.

Becky spent several hours talking aloud as she tried to put pieces together.  Many questions surfaced as she talked.  Was Auntie really her mother’s sister?  Was Auntie really her mother?  Age-wise Auntie could be her sister and not her mother’s sister.  Auntie could be her mother's daughter, for that matter.  Becky decided she would probably never know the truth about anything, but she had no doubt that Auntie was her mother.  It just felt right---and it felt good.  Becky had no children and neither did Auntie.  Her only brother had been killed in a car accident several years ago.  There was nobody left to ask.

Becky concluded, “It sure explains a lot of things, like why Mama never wanted me and Auntie to be together, even for a few minutes.  Mama always seemed to be jealous of auntie and her freedom.  I will never know who my father was, but Daddy was Mama’s second husband.  I don’t know what happened to her first husband.  There were so many things we never talked about---my whole life and now I will never know.”  She fell silent for several minutes and added, “I’m glad Auntie is -uh-was my mom.”

Becky left me with a lot to think about too.  Her aunt was in her late 80s and it was a very different time back then.  I would probably spend as much time as Becky just puzzling about the situation.  Both women had spent a lifetime living a lie while they each kept the secret.  So much pain for all concerned.

Until next time,
Alice