Generations of women have held family secrets. Sisters shared with sisters, cousins with cousins, and little girls with other little girls. Mothers, grandmothers and even great-grandmothers have heard whispered scenarios. Sometimes, seeming more sacred than life itself, guarded words can bring to such communication tears, joy, pain, doubt, fear, but most of all a bit of relief as one "transfers" her soul-touching revelation.

Today I find myself reflecting upon, more deeply than ever, an experience, which touched many, lives years ago. In the final semester of high school, my illegitimate pregnancy landed me in another state hundreds of miles from home. The pregnancy was revealed only to the trusted women in my life, one by one.

My very best friend, Nan, was the first to hear of my "problem". She cried with me. Then, in the privacy of my sister's room the words again spilled out. Her arms were genuinely comforting to me. These were my contemporaries. With their encouragement, I was able to find the words to convey this untimely "situation" to my mother. Mothers want only the best for their daughters and my mom was no different. She immediately phoned her own sister for consolation ...my aunt would hold our secret.

Within days, I was expected to speak with our high school principal. Calm and disciplined in her manner she listened, and in turn called Mother Superior, whose convent office was across campus. A visit between the two of us was coordinated. My heart pounded as I walked that long narrow pathway. When I entered her office, she stood. Greeting me, she opened her arms and held me close. She assured me that as an honor student, I would be receiving my diploma.

Plans were quickly underway for travel to my temporary residence. I arrived at my aunt's home the first of April. The next three-plus months proved to be bonding ones. This childless single woman, touted as the favorite aunt, became my personal confidant, mentor and closest friend. Her red hair complimented her attitude. I enjoyed her stylish ways and respected her gentle guidance. We walked each evening to insure a normal delivery and, naturally, a healthy baby. She loved me and I loved her.

During labor, my aunt's soft touch reassured me as she continually whispered, "everything will be all right." In the agreement to place my child through adoption, I was encouraged to not see or hold my baby following delivery. My aunt held her for me, however. She also kissed her good-bye for me.

Twenty-six years later, an unexpected phone call from Jeanne, the adopted one who was now an adult, brought joy to several generations of women. A reunion brought all of us together. It was a comfortable time. Roots had been established decades earlier when my aunt had successfully "passed on the spirit" of our family. She had helped transfer my love to my daughter for me.

Yesterday, at sunset, I received a phone call. A very special lady had just passed away ...

She held my secret, she held my child.