A SHADED FAMILY SECRET

Dark secrets can in fact be quite illuminating. This one, I had long suspected. However, it turned out to be deeper and more baneful than I had ever imagined.

Aunt "Kiki" was the beauty of her family. In her younger years, she had modeled. She married a man from a prominent family who adored her and gave her everything she wanted. Unfortunately, she wanted other men and was a habitual cheater.

One of her proudest conquests was an official at the French Embassy. I've always thought she was capable of better. During her 20's and 30's she looked like movie star. She had a figure better than Betty Grable's and a face more beautiful than Lana Turner. My favorite photo is the 1 of her kneeling toward the camera in a tight swimsuit in front of a French flag.

Kiki was in her 80's as we entered the new millennium. Almost broke and often bitter, she now lived in a Nursing Home up north. I had not seen her since age 12, but we had been pen-pals for many decades.

Though an unfaithful wife, she was a wonderful mother to her only son. Often, she reminded him, it didn't matter if someone was richer, better looking, or even more talented. HE WAS STILL THEIR EQUAL and to never forget it! -- I received the opposite from my parents. For this reason, as well as her beauty, I admired her.

Due to age, Kiki began to phone more and write less. She was eager to boast of her new, much younger lover. "He's 40 yrs old," she told me," and married. But he and his wife have grown apart."

"How did you meet?" I was curious to know.

"His son works as an orderly here. He introduced us. The kid would be shocked if he knew his dad was taking me out afternoons to check into a motel!" She giggled. "Joe prefers older women," she added, "He has a teeny little weeny, but he sure knows how to use it!"

"Mom always said you were promiscuous," I scolded. "You should be ashamed."

"Dianne, don't you know that your parents HAD to get married!" She sniffed.

Not until that moment, I didn't. But I've always suspected. My parents seemed an odd match. The only common factor was they were both highly negative individuals. I've been called that, too. But compared to them I'm a cock-eyed optimist! They were the type that not only saw the glass half full, but also cracked and teaming with germs.

"So perhaps that explains why Dad and my brother were never close," I wondered aloud.

"You're wrong!" she stated. "Your mother aborted that baby right after the marriage."

"What!?" This truly was a revelation.

"I was with her," Kiki continued, "We went to this strange woman in a rundown house. She didn't seem all there. I had a bad feeling. Afterward your mother began hemorrhaging. There was blood everywhere! I called our family doctor and we swore him to secrecy."

"But why? Wasn't she married, then? Why an abortion?" I wanted to know.

"She didn't want our parents, and everyone else knowing she'd had sex before marriage. Remember how religious your grandmother was, she wouldn't allow a Christmas tree in the house because she considered it pagan."

"Yes, she was pill."

"And our father was strict, too!"

"But there was nothing they could do to her," I said. "She didn't live under their roof. She had a husband!"

"She couldn't exist under that kind of shame," Kiki replied.

I shook my head in disgust. Yes, I support abortion. But in this case, there was no reason! Other than my mother, maintaining her phony facade. It was so typical of her! Certain behavior suddenly became less inexplicable.

I knew since an early age that my mother was insecure in her marriage. She seemed like a small child always seeking approval from my dad. As if she was trying to say, " See I really am a good wife. You didn't make a mistake!" She used to gush to her friends that she worshiped the ground my father walked on. At the same time I was treated like a rival. Because I had a closeness with Dad she was never able to attain. We had a bond.

My father was loving and supportive to me when I was a child. But years of disappointment, failed businesses, and uncertainty; slowly but drastically changed him. He struck out at those closest to him.

This revelation also explained the tense friction between my mother and paternal grandfather. Often she told me that Poppy never thought she was good enough for Dad. What she failed to mention was that he had a valid reason to feel that way! -- I would not put it past her to have gotten pregnant just to entrap my father. She was the type that would.

My grandfather Poppy, who lived with us until his death, didn't fit the storybook stereotype. He was crusty and could often be verbally cruel. At age 4, when I awoke crying from a nightmare, he ordered me to shut up and go back to sleep or he'd make me spend the night outside! -- But he never hit me! Though he sometimes threatened to.

Poppy cherished my brother who is 11ys older. But I never received that type of adoration from him. My father used to say that by the time I came along, Poppy was too old to enjoy a grandchild. All I seemed to do was get on his nerves.

But never having raised a daughter, I think on some level he viewed me as an extension of my mother, whom he despised. He also thought she was peculiar.

Before her marriage, she had never been inside a restaurant. She was afraid to enter one. (A phobia I sure didn't inherit! ) Her family never patronized them. It was scary, unfamiliar territory to her.

Frequently, she blackmailed her rebellious, younger sister Kiki. Mom was quite skillful at manipulation. I can tell you that from my own experience. Plus her reasoning was distorted.

But an abortion, I was still shaking my head. I wanted to know more.

The next A.M. during breakfast, I confronted my father. I demanded an honest answer. I asked if Mom ever had an abortion. After a long, stunned pause, he said, "Yes." I told him I wanted details. He replied, "It should stay in the past." He abruptly arose and left the kitchen without finishing breakfast. He visibly upset.

My brother was still in a half-way house out west. He was jarred by the information, but not surprised. He always suspected that Mom & Dad had to get married and HE was the cause. (Although I assured him this was not the case.) But I understood his feelings. I received affection from our father that was denied him. A wide gulf always existed between them. As with our mother, he didn't share our karmic bond.

Less than a month later, my father suffered his stroke. I've often wondered whether this revelation was a contributing factor. Because this was knowledge nether I, nor my brother were ever meant to learn. So many dark, mystifying areas have been shattered open as a result. I'm glad it came to light.