People Are Unveiling the Dark Family Secrets They Learned When They Were Old Enough

I wouldn’t say this was a family secret I was let in on when I was older, but rather one I found out when I shouldnt have...My father wasnt around in my life, my mother raised me well with her meager earnings and with the close guidance of my grandparents.

My grandmother is still alive to this day and has to be the kindest most wholesome person I have ever known. My grandfather was this bad ass country man. I grew up as a toddler watching old clint eastwood films and I thought for a long time he was Philo Beddo from “Any which way but lose” as he looks alot like Clint as well.

He was my father figure, taught me about hunting and fishing, he was a depression era kid and made sure we never went without and that we knew how to keep ourselves alive. As I grew older I found out my grandad had did time and was actually a felon and all the times we went hunting he could have been sent away for illegal weapon possession.

He did time over crippling a dude at a party with a crowbar, idk all the specifics, something spurred on by drink. He was a rowdy man though and very quiet, mumbled alot, a habit I had to grow out of as I got older, had his adams apple caved in during a bar fight and always had a raspy daffy duck tone to his voice. This isnt entirely about him, it gets much darker.

My grandad had a group of friends he did redneck shit with, hunting, fishing, etc etc. By the time he was gone, the only one left alive in the group was the Youngest friend and closest I dare say. We will call him Texas. Texas was by far the most redneck person I ever met.

Big ten gallon hat, no shirt, and a bowie knife on his waist just about everywhere he went. My grandad died off when I was in my mid teens, and Texas took over in showing me the way. Mans man he was, smart man too, philosophy, art, music. He wasnt a one trick pony.

One heck of a cook too. Annually since before I was born we had 4th of july parties at his house where bbq and catfish were served in abundance alongside a spectacular fireworks display of illegal fireworks brought in from states away, all in his back yard.

Our story takes a dark turn and a family secret is revealed to me one night before one of my last hunting trips before an unexpected heart attack sent Texas to an early grave.

As old men do on the weekends, Texas was drinking when my mom dropped me off at his house, I was gonna stay over, and then we were gonna hit the land early in the AM. As soon as mom left Texas through me a beer and we got to settin around chattin with another friend of his.

Eventually his friend leaves and things turn somber as Texas reflects on my grandad and how he missed him and how he thinks my grandad would really be proud of how I had been doing in life up til then. I asked him to tell me some stories about the good ol days, and he shared a couple of tales about situations they got in doing one thing or another, Texas was a big and broad shouldered man and had to pay court fees once for beating up four bouncers at a bar in indiana. Stories like that were told. And then he lets this line slip out, I will never forget it:

“See theres alot of bad in this world, your grandaddy and I both knew that. Sometimes when we encountered bad folk, we made them disappear. Mhmm. You’d be surprised how much people taste like BbQ when done right”

I had laughed it off having been a few beers deep at this point thinking it to have been a joke...
But years after his passing remains were found out in his backyard. The same backyard where we had the 4th of July Cookouts for years.... where BBQ was served often. Im probably a cannibal

Username: CrookedOnetwo

I have several dark family secrets. First, my dad was not actually a monogamous, faithful husband. After his first marriage ended in failure, he ended up meeting his second wife (my mother) at an orgy.

He fell in love, and married her, without knowing she had cerebral palsy, and was actually severely learning disabled , and had a tubal ligation before she went through puberty. He almost ended up arrested, and ended up generally discharged from the military, losing out on his retirement pension.

He himself was sterilized from an old Vietnam war wound, so when they wanted children, they had to have donor sperm and eggs, meaning I and my sister are not related to either my parents or each other. Later on, my dad divorced her when she was found to be a pedophile, and molested me and my sister when we were babies.

He met my step mother a year later at another orgy, and stayed with her for almost 10 years, allowing me to be abused by her, and the real reason is because he didn't want his parents, who were fanatically religious, to find out that he was attending orgies.

His father still found out, and threatened to have me taken away, kill me, and bury me in Cannon AFB in Clovis, NM on the old bombing range. He divorced her after she kicked my sister off the roof of the house, and the State we lived in threatened to have me taken out of the house, and he would be arrested.

He met my second step mother on a BDSM website, fell in love again, and proceeded to have another child with her, only for her to divorce him when he had a stroke. She also succeeded in taking him away from his other children, as he fell so hard in love, that he abandoned us.

Second, my great grandfather was actually wanted in Tennessee for kidnapping my great grandmother and marrying her, he was 28, she was 14. He actually killed 6 of his children "for God", and got away with it.

My Grandfather wanted to do the same to me, and the only reason why it did not happen is because the State I lived in knew full well what he was capable of. Also, my dad was a master manipulator, and was able to keep me from ending up in foster care because he manipulated the CPS worker, who was female, into thinking she was one of his main squeezes.

When she inevitably lost her job, he used my trauma against me to keep me from choosing what was best for me using the exact same manipulation capability. Then he ended up with my second step mother, and abandoned me once he felt it was safe.

Third and final, he had heard I had committed self unalive through a pseudo Christian residential care facility I was staying at, and knew it was fake. He still used that call to have a lawsuit that was put through by my first step mother reversed on the grounds of abuse, as he was so focused on marrying my second step mother he was willing to forego an abuse based divorce to have his marriage terminated early, only later regretted it when he was forced to pay.

He used my trauma I was going through because of him to his own benefit, and used the "grieving father" card for a crap ton of benefits. When I came back into his life 4 years later, he had to pay it all back, except for the lawsuit.

He died saying I owed him for all the benefits he collected illegally knowing I was still alive. I also supposedly owed for every Christmas and Birthday present he supposedly bought which I found out was a lie, he bought nothing. I never paid him, as I am on disability, and he could not sue me for anything.

He died from COVID last year, and I draw disability off his account. I feel no shame in it, as he revealed he never did anything for me he didn't think he could benefit directly off of. He gave my sister $150,000 to survive, while I was homeless, eating out of trash cans.

His death is the best thing he could do for me. I am 40, and now I help others in need with what I make. I never did end up like my father, and I hope I never will.

Username: spacewolfie82

My dad used to be in a gang in Korea. He has needle tattoos (the old tattoos where they take one needle with some ink and stick it in the skin), cigarette scars, and scars from some battles. He apparently left Korea, went to America, met my mom, and married her.

He quit smoking by completely stopping (very dangerous i’m glad he managed to get through it); he did it just to make sure that we wouldn’t get any health problems when we were born. He has always been a buff and kind figure in my life.

Sometimes he would be a bit scary when he liked to drive fast, road rage, and got mad. But, he was always our reliable dad who had our backs in any situation. I wouldn’t have expected him to have that kind of past.

I think it really sinked in when I looked in his office closet and saw this square shaped, long wooden pole. It had a little line at the top part, so I tried to pry it open. My tiny little hands managed to lift the top part open. It was a katana that was incredibly sharp.

I was a kid and never thought it would be that sharp (I thought it might have been a container or something to play with); i got scared and put it back. I asked my dad what it was, and he told me that I should never mention it to anyone. That’s it.

He never liked to share his past when he was in a gang. He said it was not as cool as it seems, and all he did was extort money from people. He was strong, but he had higher ups too that he had to bow to.

He had to fight in lot of battles and some of them had used knives as well. He must have been really stressed at the time because there was also a lack of food since he lived in the outskirts of Korea.

Once I grew up more, It slipped out of my mom’s mouth that we actually had a step brother. She realized what she said and tried to lead the topic away. I heard from my middle sister that my dads previous lover was someone that haunted my mom’s dreams. She had a white dress on with red heels and long, black hair. My sister had a dream of her that she told to my mom. And, my mom confessed of her same dream.

I also saw this apparition of that lady but with blood on her clothes and no red heels. It might have just been another ghost or a figment of my imagination, but it’s pretty crazy how we all shared an experience. I am still not sure of the backstory behind it, but I am guessing it is pretty complicated. It’s interesting to know I have a half brother out there somewhere though.

So to sum up:
-my dad was in a gang
-i have a half brother somewhere

And to add:
-my grandpa was in the war and survived a blow to the head
-a shadow figure of a military man walks around the second floor which we can only see periodically from the bottom floor of our old house (me and my sisters + cousin collectively saw it together) (it might be one of my gramps friends that passed in the army)

-my family had all had experiences with ghosts, mostly my parents and grandparents (since Korea is probably filled with more horrifying apparitions)

Username: Fit-Improvement4753

That my great grandfather who I knew till I was 9 or 10, who was the kindest, gentle man I ever knew was a high ranking member in the KKK. My father, who was really close to him told me stories about his life and the events that led to him leaving the KKK.

So he grew up extremely poor. He stopped school in the 3rd grade and worked as a sharecropper. He was inducted into the KKK in his early 20s. By this time he was a carpenter and built their crosses that they would burn.

My father even remember helping him build crosses for them to burn. My father told me that my grandfather had overseen a beating a of a black man with a belt that drove the big circular saws in saw mills back then and they had whipped “all the skin” from his back. My father never said what the man was accused for but he remembers my great grandfather talking about it.

Another one is when a local white man was accused of molesting his daughters and beating his wife. So the clan kidnapped the man and brought him out to the woods. They all argued about what to do with him as punishment. They eventually decided on castration.

No one knew how to do it but my great grandfather who had farm animals he has cut. So my great grandfather had them hold the man down and cut his balls off. Then they let him go. According to my father the man eventually moved after a few years but the complaints and stories regarding his home life stopped.

My great grandfather eventually left the clan when they were wanted to go a raid a black neighborhood and “string them up”. My grandfather refused as he had known and worked with residents of said neighborhood. The clan went anyway and raided the community and apparently some people were murdered.

He finally left after they gave him a choice. He could stay and suffer no repercussions for his un-involvement in their raid. Or he could receive a beating from every member and then be ostracized from the Klan and all people affiliated with it(which was the whole town). He chose the beating. He was 32 when he left he had a wife and 2 kids by this point.

I never knew this growing up until I was in my 20s and my dad told me. He also told me that my great grandfather couldn’t read and died at the age of 93 without being able to read. Once I got older I was mad and ashamed that these actions had happened. I eventually realized that my great grandfather was a perfect target for the clan.

He was young and illiterate so they could say anything and he wouldn’t know if it was true or not( like articles in newspapers and what not). They recruited him like modern gangs recruit kids. I will never try to justify the actions he took against people of color and I will always be ashamed my family had a part in the suffering of others. But I understand better now the circumstances, environment and choices presented to him which led him down that path.

I am relieved in the sense that he wised up and realized what the klan stood for and left he wanted no part in it and burned his robes. He also made sure my father was left alone by the Klan and not recruited which stopped the cycle.

My father raised me to not judge people and to be accepting of all peoples and culture (turns out my dad is a huge Trekkie and took all the lessons to heart). He made sure my brother and myself knew what racism was and how it can follow you and your descendants if it is allowed to spread and grow. That’s my families dark secret. My great grandfather was in the Klan.

Username: justtuna

My dad has a human skull in his office which he inherited from his uncle. The skull may be the remains of a murderer who killed one of my ancestors. Apparently, many generations back, one of my ancestors (more accurately my ancestor’s sister) got knocked up by a guy who was already engaged.

He couldn’t risk losing his engagement into a wealthy family, so he murdered her. He was caught and subsequently beheaded for his crime, but because he was a murderer, he couldn’t be buried on holy soil. As a solution to this dilemma, his chopped-off head was placed on a stick and moved around from garden to garden in this little village where it went down.

My dad’s uncle, Jacob, was always interested in family history, and this story in particular has always been told and retold through the generations. So Jacob decided to see if he could track the skull down, because let’s face it, it would be kinda cool to have, albeit illegal.

Anyway, he managed to find the village and talked to some of the older residents or local historians, who confirmed that there was indeed something about an actual human head on a stick that got hopped around from garden to garden, but it wasn’t in the village anymore.

Some young historian had passed through the town years prior and taken interest in it, and they all wanted to get rid of the ghastly thing, so he’d been allowed to take it with him. According to Jacob, he never found the guy’s name, so the story ends there.

Here’s the catch though: he had an old, decrepit, browned human skull in his home office since long before my dad was born. Whenever anyone asked him where he’d gotten it, he would give various answers, only some of which I know. 1) he had bought it from some dude, very vague story, 2) it was fished out of the Ganges river and given to him on a trip to India or 3) he was a doctor and apparently being once a medical student, you get access to the cool souvenirs like that, again rather vague considering the state of the skull.

Either way, he never really explained in detail how he got it, and the story changed every time he was asked, which makes a lot of us think that he maybe did manage to track down the actual murderer’s skull, and just didn’t want people to know, for some reason.

At this point, it’s a very illegal possession to have, but we can’t exactly get rid of it. My dad’s cousin suggested throwing it out in the trash when Jacob passed away, but that probably would have raised a lot of questions if anyone found it. Long story, but y’know, I think it’s pretty cool

Username: Hello_phren

My Grandpa was a great guy, real joker and just fun to be around. He fought in WW2 and was awarded a medal for his service in Papua New Guinea. Dad always told us the more "fun" stories that Grandpa told him.

Things like how he stole a US jacket and would wear it into the US mess hall so he could get ice cream. But the US cook figured him out and would put his ice cream on a bed of baked beans to fuck with him. Dad would hint that Grandpa has special training, because he was a commando 2/6th squad.

Recently we found his medals while cleaning up my uncles house, so we started talking more about it. Dad let slip that Grandpa had talked a bit about his special training one time after a beer or two.

He was trained in and had used crossbows, flame throwers, garrottes and literally everything else. His unit was authorized to use anything that got the job done, no matter how horrible.

He'd also found prisoners of war at the end of his tour, the village they'd come across had been occupied and the enemy had imprisoned all the civilian men and threatened them to talk about where the Australian commandos were. The civvies didn't know, so the enemy had thrown all their wives and children into a well to die.

The men still didn't know, so they'd been starved, when the Aussies finally found the village, one guy was 20kg heavy. So 44lbs for you Americans.

Grandpa had some serious PTSD from this, and for a few years after the war he would mount the curb to run over Asian people when driving. I can't possibly condone that behavior, although I do understand it.

Unlike most, he actually realized that was a trauma response, he went to counseling despite the stigma at the time and eventually went to a local Japanese restaurant for a meal. Where he befriended the owner.

He received the Military Medal for charging a machine gun nest with a grenade, he was shot twice and blown up by a grenade while doing it. He then took cover and reported on enemy movements so another squad could avoid an enemy patrol.

The story was that he'd been nominated for a Victoria Cross for his efforts, but he'd actually deserted from the army at the start of the war. When he first enlisted he was placed in a cushy job maning artillery emplacements on an Island in Australia. He got bored and swam back to shore and re-enlisted with a fake address and birth date.

He'd deserted to go do more for the war effort, but he'd still technically deserted. I thought that sounded like soldiers bluster, but when we got his service records it was all on there.

They'd made him a deal that he wouldn't get the VC but he also wouldn't go to jail for 20 years. He thought that was a pretty good deal.

I guess the dark part is that this man who was so kind to all of us and such a good person had killed people in some of the darkest ways possible. I always thought of War as some distant, vaguely heroic or tragic thing. I was raised on stories of Grandpa the rascal who rose to the occasion. But the truth was that it had haunted him his whole life.

He'd never picked up his medals either, they made him take the MM because it was a whole ceremony, but he'd never even ordered the service medals. He didn't want a set of shiny reminders in his house.

Username: Valor816

When I was growing up my father used to make frequent trips overseas to Europe. We are talking 3, 4 times a year. It was always glossed over when I asked anyone where he went or why and he was usually gone a couple weeks to a month. Then the trips stopped entirely around when I was fourteen. We weren't poor but we were not well off enough to pay for the trips but they happened.

Fast forward four years and I'm eighteen and getting ready to move out and my dad takes me on a drive to a nearby town. It's like a 2 hour drive with no reason other than being scenic so I figured something was up.

Anyways he lays out this whole thing for me. Apparently our family was a branch of a significantly larger family in Italy. Way back when like 7 or 10 generations back the core family had eight daughters who all married off and started their own families.

My dad hinted that the sisters father had left some huge inheritance, but it was only to be given to the "surviving family" so for the next like couple hundred years the descendants of these women were constantly trying to kill each other, and when not killing each other out breed each other.

There were all these stories he told me of like cousins being hidden on ships and smuggled far off only to come back twenty years later to kill whoever killed their father, it was some really operatic shit.

Anyways, shortly after I was born my dad found out that one of the remaining cousins of one of the branches was still alive and actively plotting to try and kill our family, his brother was stuck in Venezuela and his sister in Argentina for other reasons so they would pay for my dad to fly out to the latest spotting of this guy and he'd spend a couple weeks or a month looking for him.

Guy tried to straight up kill him several times too, he showed me some gnarly scars he Def didn't have when I was younger. Anyways, in 98 he finally caught the guy in Sardinia and strangled him to death and buried him under 3 foot of gravel off of some mine tailings. He described it in a way that made me believe him. He also said it wasn't the first relative he had to kill.

He wanted me to know so that if he died under weird circumstances or someone made threats against me or my family I would know why. We finished our drive and picked up some deli meat and a loaf of bread on the way back and stopped and made sandwiches on the trunk of the car and we discussed our plans for the evening.

He and I were going deer hunting that season and he wanted me to go spotting with him thst evening up one of the local mountains. I had a class at college I could have blown off but I told him I wanted to make it to this class because it was a subject I liked and it was important.

That evening about midway through the class police knocked on the door and asked me to step outside, some hikers had found my dad dead as a doornail up the mountain. He'd been dead at least a few hours but was by a major trail and near his truck, had his cell phone.

They believed it was a massive heart attack that took him before he had a chance. He did have a really bad heart and wasn't in great health so it was believable but he hadn't even gotten anywhere strenuous and it was super suspicious hikers just "found" him on the mountain within a few hours, near a trail or not.

I pushed my mom for an autopsy but she refused, was too upset and said she just wanted to handle his cremation. Nothing odds happened since but I'll probably wonder till I die what happened with him. Sorry if you were a expecting some story of buried treasure or supernatural power.

He said he never saw nor heard of an inheritance and no one in the family had ever heard of anything. No one knows how or why someone would track it to pay out. It seems like after the first generation people just kept killing each other because it was what they had always done.

Username: Ambitious-Refuse8114

At birth I was adopted away, I knew this part growing up. My adopted parents were actually my grandparents, or this was known to me (now they are dead but, this may or may not be true as I've learned in the years since). I was removed from their home (their declining health) and adopted to a different family.

My newest adopted mother always said horrible things like "I see why your mom gave you up" "Not even your real parents wanted you" Blah blah blah. In my mid twenties I learned she was my actual biological mother, this may or may not be true as I learned later.

She was furious when I found out.This is when both families became tight lipped about my story. It became a huge family war on who told me. She's a drunk and a junkie so I'm not sure she would even know the truth at this point.

I always thought it was strange having vivid memories at age 1-2, that's not normal right? Well in my late twenties I was offered an amazing job, but they had to do a pretty deep background check on me. At this point I learned my adoptions didn't line up.

Basically somehow along the way my birth records were fudged. Because I'm no contact with my family, and my original adopted parents are dead (so no one left who is stable enough to even be honest) I'm not entirely certain of my age.

I had to go to a government building and sit with someone to figure out my actual birthday. I now know all my memories (the ones from when I was 1-2, being the youngest in my classes etc) were actually because I'm possibly older?!

By 3-4 full years. Now since there were 3 different years listed on all my birth certificates, adoption papers, and there was no one willing to back them up, after a long investigation, they were also unable to determine my actual birthday. And also, the validity of who my actual biological parents are.

Things I know for certain; I was born on the X date of X month but do not know which year (there is a 4 year window), I was adopted 3 times not twice (the one I didn't know of was a short lived adoption right after birth lasting an unknown amount of time), and I don't have any family because I thought I had a right to know who I am and where I'm from (I'm nosy and ruined my own family I've been told).

A letter from the government eventually led me to understand that I'm part of the 60's scoop. I've heard, my biological mother is a residential school survivor, and biological father is either a priest or this other really sexist racists misogynist guy I was told was my father. Once again they were unable to determine for sure.

In the end I was able to pick a birthday and name, was reissued all new government documents including BC, SIN, ID etc. I got the job. I do not speak to any "family". The family I knew is dead, and currently I'm fighting with one family who is saying because of my adoptions/ secrets etc I should not be included in the Will.

Therefore any family I thought I had has made it abundantly clear, I'm not family. I've pretty much given up on the court battle just to be done with everyone of those deceitful assholes. Although the sum would really make a difference in my life.

I'm in my 40's now and I am certain I will never actually know who I am, where I'm from, how old I am, who my bio-parents were. Also I'm pretty lonely and really wish I had a family to give to my children. Straight up... this is the worst feeling, and so confusing. It keeps me up at night. I cry over this a lot. I've been in therapy for it too.

Username: imnotaloneyouare

Heeeyy! Growing up I had “Grandma, Grandpa, Nanny and Uncle Jack”. When my father was 16, his dad (named Alec) killed himself. I did not learn of his death being suicide until I was 18 years old and my older cousin told me.

Apparently Nanny and Alec were devoutly involved with “Christian Science”, which includes the assertion that you can pray/will yourself back to health. Alec was badly burned in an industrial accident and quickly discovered that it takes more than prayer to recover.

He became despondent when he could no longer support the family and managed to get himself to a bridge near where he worked and threw himself off of it. Anyone who discussed his death focused on Alec not wanting to be a burden on the family, not so much that he was heavily involved with a cult.

Alec’s brother Jack married my Nan a few years later and the remained together until Jack died in his late 70s. My Dad left his home country and was thrilled to become a Lutheran after meeting my Mom. (Unfortunately the backasswards, wrong-side-of-history, gay-intolerant Missouri-Synod variety of Lutheranism, but at least he’ll accept medical care and take needed medications).

Nan went on to outlive all of her friends and spent a few very sad years before a woman named Dolly (who had also outlived all of her friends) moved into the same assisted living facility. I remember being happy and relieved that Nanny didn’t feel so alone anymore, and it kindled hope that I would continue to make good friends while an adult.

Side story: I was kind of a weirdo, lived in a small town and went to a very small private school through 8th grade, so my friendships (and frenemy relationships) were largely born of being stuck at the same backasswards school or being a short bike ride distance away.

As a younger kid, my “best” friend classmate was highly anxious and couldn’t/wouldn’t attempt to defend me when I was picked on (likely for undiagnosed ADHD/anxiety/autism symptoms). Given other dynamics at play with my Mom, it seemed to me that I must be deeply flawed (rather than surrounded by assholes).

Fortunately, I met another awkward/anxious gal I got along with great when I was 10, but we only attended the same school for three years and were both rather preoccupied with being mentally ill at the time. She has moved a lot but we keep up with and visit each other, I consider her to be my closest childhood friend and we are of great emotional support to each other.

Postscript to the side story that includes a secret I didn’t learn until later: my Mom had a late miscarriage prior to my birth and was told it wasn’t likely she could maintain a full pregnancy. I remember the phrase “I was a mess, but they left one of my ovaries out of sympathy”?

She became pregnant with me about a year later and did not stop smoking cigarettes until after I was born, then took it up again when I was about 3 months old. I lived in a incubator for the first few weeks of my life but was a mostly healthy baby after that.

My Mom became pregnant with my sibling when I was 16 months old and quickly quit smoking forever. For some godforsaken reason, when I was about 20, my Dad (was probably buzzed and) thought it was a good idea to tell me that my Mom did not emotionally recover from her miscarriage until *the birth of my younger sibling* “cured her”.

So instead of being a welcomed rainbow baby, I was an insta-black-sheep for not being my deceased would-be-older-sibling. My younger sibling remains “the Golden Child” despite being less physically and emotionally available to my parents.

Take away point: please address your clinical depression and disappointments in life rather than risk not bonding with your offspring. It leaves a mark.

Username: junglebetti

I(35M) grew up in a Midwestern suburb with my parents and older brother(37M). My mom's sister, her husband, and my cousin (42F) lived in a town two hours away. I would see my cousin, call her Penelope, several times a year, and she was always very kind and patient with my brother and me.

One time we were at a fair with our grandparents, us kids a little farther ahead, and someone at a booth suggested to my cousin that she let "her kids" come play a game. We've laughed about that many times over the years.

When I was in my late twenties Penelope got married. My brother and I were in the wedding and it was a wonderful time. During one of the many speeches, Penelope called my brother and I her own brothers, and it made sense as we'd pretty much grown up together. 5 months later Penelope has her first baby, super preemee, but he was fine and is now almost 10.

Now my 20s were spent in a haze of alcohol, marijuana, and video games, and though I supported myself, I was largely absent from my family for a lot of that time. The pandemic made me take stock of my life and my relationships with (especially) the older members of my family.

My mom's youngest sister lives in my city, and around the time things started opening back up, we started hanging out. Turns out my aunt also drinks and smokes weed, and we started seeing each other fairly regularly.

During one of these meetings my aunt was showing me some old pictures of her, my mom, and their other sisters when they were little girls. I commented on how very alike my mom looked to my brother when they were the same age (I take more after my dad), and how Penelope also looked just like them at that age.

The conversation carried on until suddenly my aunt asked me what I thought about Penelope's son (at this point about 4-5 years old). I'd taken to referring to the boy as my nephew since cousin-once-removed is so long. Then my aunt tells me the boy *actually* is my nephew, and that Penelope is in fact my older sister. In shock, I asked who her father was, and auntie said my dad.

Turns out Penelope was conceived out of wedlock, and my mom gave her to her sister to appease my paternal grandparents who were very Catholic and not happy with the situation. I searched my feelings and found it to be true. Things my dad said to me before I moved out about being responsible with drugs, alcohol, and women suddenly made so much more sense.

I asked who else knows. Auntie said everyone but the "kids", so my brother, myself, and maybe even Penelope. I was 32 years old and finding out I have an older sister that I've known my whole life. Auntie said she thought we knew, the way Penelope called us her brothers, my use of nephew for her boy, she thought we'd figured it out somehow. Then auntie says I can't tell my mom or they'll never speak to each other again. I understood and kept it to myself.

That Christmas Penelope announces that she's gonna have another boy. I'd been hoping/planning on getting her on her own to try and feel out what she knows. Having two little boys to watch has made that very difficult. The younger one is starting to talk now and as I said, the first is nearing 10.

I'm hoping in a couple more years, when the older can be left to watch his little brother, that I can take my sister out to a nice dinner and finally tell her that I know the truth. I don't know what she knows, I don't know what her birth certificate says.

I accidentally spilled the beans to my older brother, and he made a good point that my aunt and uncle raised Penelope from infancy and should still be considered her parents, and I agreed. I don't know if the older generation of my family will ever fess up.

Maybe my parents intend to take this secret to their graves. At first I was angry with them, and am still disappointed that, despite us all being grown adults, they've never seen fit to tell us. Even as I've started referring to Penelope openly as my sister, and she calls me little brother, it's with this veneer that we know we're cousins, and I don't know if she's faking like I am.

Username: JackNailer404

This is stuff that has been pieced together through police reports, court cases, and family members telling. Mom's side- Grandma 1 was a prostitute that met my doctor grandfather in Puerto Rico. He put her through nursing school and got her cleaned up. He was very successful in Detroit (60's, before it was a shithole).

They had 3 daughters. She had an affair but wanted money and the lavish lifestyle that she was accustomed to. Her and her lover lured him to their apartment. He took a rifle and my aunt in hopes that they wouldn't try anything with her there.

They shot him in the head. They got off on "self-defense" and a few well placed bribes. They got 100k insurance payoff with the caveat that it has to be used to fund the daughter's education.

Few years later grandma and lover break up, she meets and marries another guy. Execute him in front of my mom and her sisters. They were five and lied to the police.

Same thing happened with another guy a few years after that. At this point they were moving up and down the midwest / east coast and my grandma decided to leave the kids in Mexitown in Detroit with their aunt (who was also a PR prostitute).

I won't get into much detail about the horrific things that were done to my mom and aunts, but they were regularly beaten with cords and my aunt was on goingly raped since she was 5 by grandma's friends.

My mom was ultimately the only one of the daughters to see any of the money and it put her through nursing school. My grandma convinced her to marry my dad so they could exploit a technicality to access more funds. They used the rest for drugs, random shit, to pay off a wrecking yard, and invested a large portion into a slot-car bar in the 70's.

I love all of my aunts very much and they are great people. The eldest is writing a book about their childhood, has the manuscript done, and is trying to find a publisher and getting it edited properly.

They all have problems with abusive men and for the most part have been married 3-4 times. My mom is the exception, however, she has tried to divorce my dad a few times but my dad set it up so she would get nothing and she stayed.

She went to therapy for 7 years, worked through her / their problems, and are still married. Grandma died 15+ years ago from lung cancer and her abusive lover / on-off husband died maybe 4-5 years ago.

Dad's side - Grandma 2 convinced my grandfather to join an extreme chinese christian cult (we aren't asian). My parent's actually met because Grandma 1 was scamming people that went there and tried to scam my dad's parents. I don't know many details other than they don't allow makeup, celebrating of any holidays or watching any non-approved movie.

They make you go to trainings for very long periods of time and during holidays on your own dime. Supposedly it isn't as bad as it used to be but who knows. I have been to a few of the meetings but my cousins and I would ditch and go play games somewhere.

We stopped going when they excommunicated the husband of one of the women the leader was fucking in his office. My dad is now a major proponent in spreading the truth about what the cult is really about. It took years for a large portion of my family to talk to them again.

We moved about 3000 miles away. Even still, about a year or two ago my aunt was at a "training" about 30 minutes away for 6 months and only came to see us for a 1/2 day. We aren't allowed at their compound.

Username: [deleted]

I didn't learn about this when I became an adult but I'd like to think its secret worthy.I used to always ask my Mom & Dad where grandma and grandpa were and they straight up told me when I was young(was still in elementary school) that were dead in a very gentle manner.

As I got older (middle school), I learned about the Khmer Rouge and asked my parents about them. I then learned that they were both War refugees and that they lost numerous family members. My Mom lost both of her parents, a sister, and basically everyone she lived with except her second sister.

My mother and her sister was able to escape out of Cambodia into Thailand by staying with other family members and were able to get into neighboring Thailand. After staying in a Thai refugee camp, my mom and the surviving family members were able to get onto a plane to Texas(random eh? ;D) and then they ended up on the East Coast after learning of other family members that also got out of Cambodia.

I don't know how the papers were obtained detailing my dads family but I took a look at them. My dad lost all of his siblings(about 6 or 7 iirc) and both of his parents to the Khmer Rouge and he is the only surviving family member.

His journey to America was more difficult than my moms. He was about 7 or so at the time of the events. He and 2 or 3 other young boys were able to escape out of Cambodia and were also able to get into a Thai refugee camp. My dad has always said that he has seen some shit in life.

Some of these things he has told me were seeing dead bodies at such a young age. He was able to find a sponsor in America that were willing to take him in. The white American family that took him in were very nice and treated him like their own.

Now this occurred when my dad was around 12 I think, can't remember the specific ages of either of my parents for their birth documents were destroyed. It does make me sad that I will never truly know what its like to have a Grandma or Grandpa especially since my mom always told me that her parents always wanted a son(not that they hated having 3 daughters).

Whenever someone says that their grandma or grandpa is dead jokingly, I laugh in response, for some reason, that never bothered me when someone says that.

Username: Twister026

That my grandfather went to prison. My father had this little "knick-knack" wooden container thing that he kept on the bedroom dresser when I was a kid. In there, you would find ornate old cuff links, tie tacks, bollo ties, and basic old fashioned dude stuff from like the 50's-60's era.

There was always this random little piece of woven fabric about 3-4 inches long. It looked kinda native american / southwest in color scheme. It had a leather piece at the end that looked like it was supposed to be attached to something. Looking back, I guess it was about the size of a luggage tag. It didn't interest me as a kind as much as the other shiny/mechanical stuff, so I had never paid much attention to it.

A few years after my father died, we were moving my mother to a new home and cleaning stuff out. She told me to take whatever I wanted of my father's old stuff because she had already gone through it and kept the few keepsakes that mattered to her.

As a middle aged guy that wears suits and stuff all the time, I immediately went for that little container. I started going through it and putting aside stuff that I wanted and at some point I stopped at that piece of woven fabric. It occurred to me that my father wasn't the type to hold onto impractical stuff, much less a random little piece of cloth. So I asked my mother about it:

"Oh, your grandfather made that for your father when he was in prison. I think it used to be a keychain but that part broke before we met so I'm not sure." Um... what? My grandfather, the quiet, religious, stand-up, community leader dude?

The no drinking, no drugs, farmer from rural west Texas? I couldn't imagine him raising his voice at someone, much less going to prison for something. He was literally one of the kindest people I've (still) ever met in my life. So I asked my mother to spill what she knew:

It was round the late 1930's when my father was a little kid. The was a polio epidemic going around in west Texas and they would sometimes have to quarantine entire towns to reduce the spread. My father and his parents lived in a tiny little town (like 500 people) that I visited often as a kid.

One day, my grandfather gets a phone call from his sister who lived in the next town over. She was hysterical. Apparently the town had been quarantined for days and there was no food to be had. Cops sat on the roads in and out of town blocking all traffic.

The little local grocery store was picked clean along with all other stores. She told him that her kids hadn't had a bite to eat since the day before and she and her husband a day before that. She was worried and panicking.

So my grandfather hung up the phone, hauled a bunch of their groceries to his car, and took off. When he rolled up on the deputy sitting outside of his sister's town, the deputy calmly approached his window to tell him to turn around.

My grandfather put a shotgun to his face and told him to wait right here because he'd be back in a couple of minutes and hit the gas. My grandfather then drove to his sister's house, set all the groceries on the front porch, and watched from his car while they hauled them in and waved at him.

He then drove back to the cop and turned himself in peacefully. My mother didn't know how much time he served, but I guess it was long enough to learn how to make that little woven fabric thing!

Username: physedka

So this is something my dad never went into detail about until i accidentally found out years after it was relevent. When I was a child my mum would talk about my uncle and aunty on my dads side and about their "crazy religion" which whenever i asked about was told it was a "form of christianity".

I assumed that part of the family was deeply christian and had quite strict teachings but that was all. I had met them and my cousins on multiple occassions and they seemed completely fine except for the fact that video games seemed foreign to them.

Years pass and the talk of their familys crazy religion ends and i mostly forget about it until one day where i want to find out that auntys birthday. I really like keeping tabs on birthdays so i can always wish them well on the day.

However their family doesnt engage with the internet much so wouldnt acknowledge my texts about the matter. So i took to google to search up my auntys name and thats where the rabbit hole began. I found an article she had written around 2012 about how her family had a direct line to god and how he performed miracles on them.

She talks about how her mother was seemingly brought back to life through the power of prayer. However this wasnt the disturbing part. The end of the article linked to the website for a christian group called Christian Assemblies International

CAI (as i will now refer to them as) is an australian Christian group which promoted archaic views on womens rights, sexuality in young people and was outed in 2014 as a cult that brainwashed its participants and abused them. I suggest doing some light research. Its trully shocking.

Seeing my aunty's name linked to such a group made me fearful. But it only went deeper. After lots of digging i found an image that seemingly depicted my aunty talking at a podium. It was a thumbnail to a video that was once hosted on the official CAI website and it suggested she was a notable figure for CAI in the UK. I came to the conclusion that my uncle and aunty mustve been their british representitives for the cult in the UK and I was right.

Confronting my parents on the matter i could see it made them uncomfortable. My mum was the one who gave me her interpretation of events. Apparently my uncle had been in some finacial difficulty.

He had been leeching off his mother (and my grandmother) for years for things like his first house, his bills and his car. He really had no skills in anything from the way my mum talked about him. He then recieved a job offer in Australia for something im not totally sure of, which is where he would first encounter CAI.

My uncle is already a christian and at the time they seemed to be channeling a message he agreed with. At some point they offered him a position in the group and gave him an oppurtunity to move back to the UK on the condition he established their church here. From then on I dont know exactly what happend.

The worst part about thie is that their family has three kids who are a lot younger than me. I seriously worry for their safety but theres no evidence to say theyve ever been in danger.. not that there would be. If people get interested i can show a copy of my auntys article. But yeah thats the rabbit hole that was the other side of my family was spreading the words of a now infamous cult.

Username: ModdedMax

My great grandfather died in a state nursing home in the 1970’s. Apparently, I met him when I was a few days old and that was it. My grandfather (his son) died when I was only 6 months old.

My grandfather had brothers and sisters. They also had children. After my grandfather died, my dad cut all contact with that side of the family.

Apparently, my grandfather’s brother “out of the goodness of his heart” put everything my great grandfather owned into his own name (when great grandpa became too old and feeble-minded).

When great grandpa got sick, he was placed into a nursing home. My grandfather was told by his brother that great grandpa was back to the family farm and the brother was taking care of him.

My grandfather went to visit great grandpa even though they weren’t on great terms (great grandpa hated my grandmother for being catholic - I guess that was a thing). My grandfather arrived at the family farm and discovered (at gunpoint for trespassing) that the property had been sold.

My grandfather confronted his brother. His brother told him to drop dead. They had a fight and my grandfather vowed to take legal action. He found out where his father was and went to see him. Great grandpa was in bad shape in a filthy state nursing home.

But as soon as my grandfather walked in, great grandpa IMMEDIATELY started screaming to have my grandfather removed saying “he stole my home! He stole my life! He put me in here! You killed me! I’ll die here and it’s your fault!”

Apparently, the brother spun the story to great grandpa saying my grandfather took everything as revenge because my great grandfather was a dick and very vocal about not liking my grandmother.

My grandfather called an attorney to try to get his father out of the nursing home, but great grandpa died two days later. My grandfather was devastated. They weren’t on the best of terms, but he was upset that his father died thinking he stole everything and put him in a shorty nursing home. He tried to go after his brother for the assets, but my grandfather died a few months later in a plane crash and everything was dropped.

Years later (like decades), my father became a lawyer and started tracing the chain of title on the farm. He then followed the brother. The farm was sold to the new owner, but then sold back to the brother 7-8 years later. Apparently, they just did it to hide money or whatever.

The farm sold in 1988 to build a shopping mall. The brother who stole it from my great grandfather, sold the farm to the mall builder for $11,000,000. That’s 1988 money. The brother is dead, but his son is alive and living very well.

He has a big ranch in Alaska and another in Montana and probably more. As far as my father ever discovered (and as far as I know), the son has never worked a day in his life.

I was a baby when all this happened, but my father hated that entire side of the family and even refused to talk about them my entire life. He just told me they were horrible people and never to contact any of them. I’m sure there’s even more to this story, but I was too young to know and dad was too angry to talk.

Username: Myzyri

I have two family secrets. The first one I learned on my own through some research into old newspaper articles. The story I was told when I was very little is that my dad went to jail for not snitching on a guy who murdered another guy, but after some time they let him go and we moved as far away from the the murderer guy as my dad's parole would allow.

What really happened is my dad worked for a drug runner who worked for some major South American drug lords. The drug runner needed to have a guy killed because he was talking to the cops and the drug runner guy asked my dad to kill him (for very little money, I might add) and hide his body in the swamp.

According to the newspaper article, the guy that got killed was on cb radio with someone and was heard saying "oh no" as there last transmission. His body was found in the swamp a couple weeks later (maybe, can't remember exact timeline) and there was a witness that pointed to the drug runners vehicle.

My dad got the finger pointed at him because he was known to do illegal side jobs for the drug runner and there was a rumor that the drug runners wife turned on them both as a witness. The cops thought my dad was able to get close to guy the because they worked together for the drug runner guy and then my dad shot him. Then he used the drug runner guys' vehicle to move the body.

The cops ultimately, either through corruption or no forensics, didn't have enough evidence and the drug runner had good connections, so he only ended up in jail for a couple days. My dad was in jail for a longer length of time, the drug runner guy did not help him.

In my research I learned that my dad was only charged with something like impeding an investigation and they didn't have enough evidence to charge anyone with the guys murder.

I just remember crying to my mom about where my dad was around this time. Then eventually getting taken to a court where I kept falling asleep and my head kept hitting the wooden benches in court, making a loud thunk. I'm pretty sure my dad took me to court that day to sway the judge (I was a very adorable child) for better probation terms because the judge noticed my head thunk and said something to my dad along the lines of he has a reason to stay out of trouble.

What got me curious about to find out about this is my mom let slip that my dad got away with murder again... Oh yeah, my dad apparently "accidentally" shot a different guy in the head when he was messing around with a gun.

Second family secret my mom told me about a little after the death of one of my aunts. My aunt got diagnosed with cancer and it was so advanced that it was a terminal diagnosis. My mom has another sister who is a nurse and she volunteered to go out and help my terminal aunt while she was going through her rapid decline in health.

My mom told me that my nurse aunt took it upon herself to overdose my dying aunt on her pain meds because she (nurse aunt) didn't want my dying aunt to suffer anymore. It all sounds really caring and like my nurse aunt wanted what was best for my dying aunt, but my dying aunt specifically said she didn't want my nurse aunt to do that to her. Nurse aunt did it anyway when no one was around and dying aunt was not in any shape to protest.

Username: Sorceress_of_Rossak

That my great grandfather killed a woman in cold blood and got away with it.My great grandfather was a crooked cokehead cop named Raymond Fatzinger. Workoholic, used coke to pull off 80-100 hour weeks and was never content with the amount of money he had.

Didnt trust banks and when he died left almost $200k in cash in a firesafe. He and my great grandmother were never married and he never claimed her or their 3 children, he pawned it off as his sister that he took in. When he would get off of work, hed kick my grandmother awake for not having dinner ready for him. He met another woman who we will call Amy.

Amys parents were loaded, and he spent a lot of his money trying to win her over. Buying a new house for her, a new car, etc. My ggma was aware of this woman, even living with her and Ray together at times, while Amy would spew awful things at her such as "Ray bought this house for me, not you" and treated her as human garbage.

One day Amy decided that she was done with Ray and left him and moved back into her old house with her children. This infuriated Ray as he just spent $80-100k (in the 80s) on Amy trying to buy his way into the family, and so he went to her house and shot her on her porch in front of her child. Ray won the case in court by "not guilty by plea of insanity".

This is the only case in Pennsylvania thats happened like this (to my knowledge). Now its guilty by plea of insanity and doesnt expunge you from a jail sentence. Ray spent a few days in a psych ward and was sent home a free man, even tried to go back to work the day he got out.

Luckily, he was never a cop again, and unluckily my grandmother was still stuck with him. I dont have all of the details, but i know at some point my ggma tried to run away and he found her and the kids and Ohio (from eastern PA), and beat her half to death when he caught her.

Thankfully his 2 pack of non-filters a day habit caught up to him, and he passed due to lung cancer when i was about 7, so i never knew any of this when i knew him. I only found out when i was driving my ggma to the store (shes never drove a day in her life) and she said "that was around the time Ray killed that girl."

I didnt ask her about it much and she made me promise not to tell anyone i knew, but when i came home i asked my dad about it and he told me everything. Hes been gone for about 15 years now, and since then shes lived as good a life as we can give her.

I played baseball from the time i was about 5 until i turned 19, and after Ray passed she attended EVERY. GAME. Even today she says about how much she misses watching me play. We just went out to lunch yesterday to celebrate her 88th birthday, and she still gets around pretty well.

She is the kindest of hearts, and deserves the world, and we do our best to give it to her. it breaks my heart every time i remember how shes suffered or whenever its brought up in conversation (although very seldomnly), but for now shes as happy as shes ever been, and i guess that has to be enough.

Username: izoggg

One of my babysitters broke into my mom's locked paper cabinets to snoop for information, another drugged me with painkillers and stole some small stuff from our house. My cousin from my father's side was in jail and is now in a mental institution. For what, I don't know. I met him once and he seems to suffer from mental retardation of some kind.

Before my father met my mother he had another family which I haven't dared to ask much about. I've heard that he hit his children and wife and left them when they got a child that was born with brain damage. I don't know what happened to the mother, my half-siblings have never talked about her.

It seems she might have died during labor. Another person I've never heard about is my stepsister's son's father. The only photo I've seen of her holding her son as a baby has my father standing next to them. I don't know what to think about it.

The truly fucked up shit begins after my birth. After a while of "joyful family life" my father snapped and locked my mother and me in their bedroom for hours. Then he decided to kidnap me, "his dear son", and after getting tired of taking care of a small baby he dropped me off at an orphanage far away from our home.

For some bureaucratic bullshit reason, all this wasn't enough to keep him away from me and he was given a second chance; he got the right to have me for a weekend twice a month and managed to keep it for several years, during which he hit me, insulted me, threatened to kill my mother, held a knife to my face and crawled around the floor of his apartment while drunk.

Then he finally snapped and told me that he doesn't ever want to see me again - I was old enough, so I just went to the authorities and granted his wish. He tried to apologize about all the things he has done, but nobody fell for his bullshit. He's been quiet for several years now, but if he ever tries to contact me again in person, I'm going to return the favor and beat the shit out of him.

Username: ThrowMeInADumpster

That one of the reasons we had moved to another part of the south away from the rest of the family was because one side of the family were all well above board intelligence wise. Like some were scary intelligent but everyone was a bit wild and as soon as they touched alcohol, it ruined them.

It changed their personalities and their behavior and some held on for a while having stroke after stroke or heart attack and some died from drinking related problems early on. They all had all the potential and talent in the world but after becoming alcoholics, did some disgraceful things.

One great uncle had multiple ex wives and 20+ children when he died (legitimate and illegitimate), one drowned in his own vomit and my grandfathers claim to fame was having both testicles removed after a bar fight where he beat two people to death and served a really questionable sentence in prison for.

The one cousin I thought would get away and do something, married a super rich woman from a wealthy family, even lived on Park Avenue in New York for a while. He walked in front of a bus. When he survived, the day they discharged him, he walked in front of a bus again, killing himself.

Alcohol nearly ruined my father and myself as well. I have 11 years sobriety and my father 30+. Though my grandfather and his brothers were such characters despite their alcoholism they were inspirations for a few books and even a film based loosely on some of their exploits with other local legends.

The other side of the family included my grandmother and her sisters mooching off the fortune my great grandfather made from nothing (literally grew up with no shoes) and who was a strong proponent for charity, giving-back to the community and philanthropy.

When he died and my grandmother and sisters took over, everything was sold, divided up and hoarded while they played high society. The sisters also were strong supporters of make your own way/ on your own parenting with my dad and his cousins despite inheriting their income.

They all lived in a small southern town and owned a ton of property. None of the sisters worked a day in their life outside of businesses they created and when they needed money would sell to whomever, with little regard to the environment, impact of the town or pollution.

It’s also why one side of the town has a paper mill and the local community college has their practice field right next to the local graveyard. This pissed my father off the way things were handled so we would all go back to small southern town only when someone died, stay in a hotel and promptly leave as soon as we possibly could.

We rarely interacted with any of them. My siblings and we’re raised well away from the craziness in a place totally different environment in a typical lower middle class area.

Username: [deleted]

My dad was on the run from the police for the first 16 years of my life. When I was about 4 years old, my mother was pregnant with my sister, and my mother's sister was part of a big cocain running ring, taking kilos of it back and forth from Tucson Arizona to Washington.

One night she got caught and rather than rat on the rest of her side of the family (which was the rest of the ring) she framed my dad for being the ringleader and set him up in a sting. Now my father was a Vietnam vet who came back from the war and found he could make much more money taking 4 man teams across the Mexican border and bringing back a few kilos of Marijuana per person back into the US than what he could ever make as a high school drop out.

So his game was weed and she set him up to take the fall by getting him caught in an undercover sting operation. He went to court and pled guilty, but then skipped his sentencing and took me and my mother on a run that would last for years.

We left Tucson and my other 6 brothers and sisters (from another mother) and hid in Virginia for a while where my sister was born, and when the cops got wise and too close to finding us we left in the middle of the night and ran again, this time finding ourselves in Colorado.

During this time my father decided to write a Marijuana grow book called "The Sea of Green" and got it published under his fake name to support the family. He also made 4 different growing dvds and 3 cooking dvds, some of the grow DVD were made in Virginia and the others were made in Colorado along with the cooking dvds. So he gained some notoriety under the moniker "Hans."

We used the company High Times to help sell the DVD, but they started selling it and not paying us our royalties, so we took them to court and won, and with our earnings went back to Arizona. By this time I'm about 10 years old, and get to spend some time with the family we left.

My mother returns to the coke head side of the family to start back where she left, and history repeated itself again. About 6 years later her sister got in trouble again and tried to blame it on my father again. This time was different tho, the DEA came to our house that we were hiding in and asked for him by name.

His REAL name, the name I didn't learn till I was about 16, I had always known him by his fake name, my dad's fear was that I might say it to the wrong person and get him caught. They informed him they had been trying to nail them for quite a while now, and wanted him to wear a wire and get them admitting everything.

He complied and got what they needed, and after it was all said and done they let him walk with his freedom.

Username: Always_Austin

Everyone on my mom's side of the family has been to prison for drug trafficking except for her. She was raised by her aunt and uncle after middle school due to this. My dad's father was a successful lawyer who was disbarred after being caught embezzling from his firm twice.

My dad's mother was violently abusive. She would later go on to kill herself after my dad hung up on her telling her "he'd be better off if she was dead." His 11 year-old sister found the body. His dad remarried less than a year later. His stepmother wasn't much better and he moved out of his house before graduating high school and ended up caring for his sister after he and my mother moved away for college.

My mother's father would get drunk and touch his daughters, allegedly because he was so drunk he'd mistake them for his younger wife- her mother knew but didn't do anything.

My dad's father was an open racist and was given command of the "colored" platoon when he was an Army officer in the 1950's because the other officers thought it'd be funny. He later went on to work in the FBI in the 1960's- draw from that what you will.

After being married for several years, my mother's great grandmother died and she was given a box of her effects. While going through the box my father recognized some of the extended family names and discovered they were fifth cousins. I joke about this with them at every opportunity- they don't think it's nearly as funny as I do.

My aunt was recently committed for several weeks after weening herself off of Xanax, which she'd taken for nearly 30 years. I spoke to her on the phone for nearly three hours after she got out and it was like talking to a whole different person.

I found out we are a lot alike, that she's a wonderful person, very funny and that she'd been pressured into taking medication by my uncle (previously one of my favorite people) who I've since come to find is an emotionally abusive piece of shit who had convinced her she was crazy, is a lifelong drug addict and habitual philanderer who continues to keep her on an emotional leash, even after she finally found the strength to divorce him.

And those are just the things I've come into over time. I'm sure there's a ton more I'll never hear because many members of my family are estranged, such as my lesbian cousin who left her first marriage because her husband was physically abusive to both her and her daughter but my family at large has not supported her second relationship and subsequent marriage to her wife, who is very friendly, supportive and loving.

My family is a fucked up, twisted group of individuals who are the progeny of some fucked up, twisted individuals.

Username: Send_Me_Broods

When I was 15 I had 20-year-old women contact me through My space telling me she was my half-sister, and our father abandoned her when she was younger. I was very close with my father and never knew of her existence.

I couldn't believe my father would do such a vile and hurtful thing to one of his own, since he treated me and my sister so well. I was heartbroken. I confronted my father after I talked with my grandmother and daunt, who "told me the truth" about my half-sister. They made it seem like my father had a relationship, got a young girl pregnant, and then ran out on her when he found out.

I remember yelling at him, calling him a garbage man, and how angry I was for abandoning his own daughter. I was angry, and that man let me yell and cry as much as I wanted to in front of him. He stayed silent the entire time.

I remember he sighed, looked at me with pain in his eyes, and told me I didn't understand the full picture. He ended up telling me that he fathered my half-sister when he was 12 years old, and the woman he had sex with was a 19-year-old woman. He told me this woman enticed him into a game of sorts, and when it happened he froze.

He was too young to understand what was happening to his body. He said it only happened once, and when he turned 13 she went after him for child support. There was never a DNA test done, and he says all she had to do was put his name on the birth certificate.

The woman who assaulted him ended up confessing to him later on that she did it, so she could get citizenship. She thought if she started a family with him, his parents would let them marry and she could become legal.

She came from a bad family and was his older sister's best friend at the time. His parents forgave her and even tried fostering a relationship with her after he gave birth. None of his family considers it assault, they think he should bear full responsibility because he was a man.

He told me he did not and could not see my half-sister as family. And He was too young to understand what was happening. That every time he saw here, he would go numb and knew something was wrong. He knew he couldn't be a father to her, and realized if he tried he would resent her or fuck her up.

My grandmother and Aunt thought that if my half-sister waited long enough, she could connect with me so I convince my father to forgive her mother. And they could have some kind of happy ending and establish a father/daughter relationship.

So, yeah. I felt like shit after I learned the truth. And when I tried telling my half-sister the truth as well, she didn't take it too well. So, she cut me off after she realized I couldn't convince my father to talk to her...

Username: Mercyuponmyduck

I had an uncle who suffered from schizophrenia his entire adult life. It really kicked in after a house fire he was in that burned around 85-90% of his body. This left him pretty disfigured.

Before he passed away he reach out to a bunch of family members asking to go camping and just to hang out. My dad and i had said we would be able to in the cominh summer. We never got the chance because he passed away.

Unlike with other family deaths noone ever mentioned how he died. With others they would even mention potentially embarrassing details. But nothing other than him passing with this uncle.

Side note: this uncle that passed, a great aunt, and i were all black sheep of the family. Everyone else is very well off or like to stick to what the head of the family want. My uncle and great aunt both had mental issues and i am not racist. I was raised to be racist and didnt even know until i was in highschool.

I ended up marrying my highschool sweet heart over 10 years ago and have been left out of everything or have had my immediate family shamed for their race. My other aunts and uncles used to send their kids out to the porch to ridicule my uncle because he was smoking.

Little kids coming out there saying stuff like, "i cant believe you do this to yourself. Its going to kill you. Do you not care about your family?" I would always blow up on them because they were just a bunch of kids abusing their uncle.

Im guessing a combination of life and not having great responses from family my uncle ended up committing suicide. He struggled with a lot in his life and did so much to always help other people. One of the nicest people i knew.

He was poor and always got a generic card for birthdays but he would fill it with really nice words or say them to me in person. He cared for people and it showed in the work he did for others suffering with mental issues. My parents got divorced when i was young and my uncle kept a good relationship with my mom and stepdad.

He even went out of his way to hang out with and talk my stepbrother through schizophrenia issues he was experiencing. This was a serious topic for my family because they were ashamed of his choice. I am sad because of the choice but have suffered from depression as well and know it can be tough.

I have serious issues with the death because i feel like i was a big part of what pushed him over the edge. I didnt make time like i should have and made a schedule for the summer instead of hearing his plea for help. Its tough to deal with at times because we had always been so close.

Username: peaceful_wail

In early 1956, in Southern California right off of the end of the famous Rt.66 sat a greasy spoon diner. In that diner was a 19 year old waitress finishing up her floor work so that she could walk home.

She was rushing to get home so that she could complete more wedding plans via timed, long distanced phone calls She was irritated when one of the vendor's sons came in, thinking she would have to serve him. The restaurant was so close to closing and it was already raining.

She was relieved when he didn't want anything. Was the *Owner* in? No, the owner wasn't, but her husband was finishing up in the kitchen, so he could help the vendor's son. After finishing up her work, she ducked her head in the office to let Owner’s Husband know she was leaving.

As the older couple had been family friends, and she was worried that she would miss her call with her fiance, she accepted the ride home.

She had just gotten back from her missionary trip in Jerusalem. She was engaged to a preacher's son, who was everything that she grew up without. In fact, she wouldn't even be in California at all if his family hadn't insisted she come to stay with an older cousin while her fiance was finishing his degree...

That night, my husband's grandmother -lost her innocence-...no had her innocence stripped from her as she fought and screamed. She later found out that was pregnancy with my father in law. She didn't have a choice as the cousin kicked her out. Her fiance had a couple of tears, but offered no support when he asked for his ring back. She left California and all of her dreams pregnant and alone.

She did end up getting married before my FIL was born. She suff3r3f even emotional and physical abuse for 27 years until her husband died. She was the epitome of unconditional love and acceptance. She was also the strongest person I have ever met in my life.

In 2012, my father in law passed away. Of course, Nana took it extremely hard. The story surrounding my father in laws paternity had never been questioned, much less discussed. It was always attributed as Nana having a "wild streak" (dear God, that still makes me nauseous) when she was young. After my FIL funeral and everyone had gone, I was helping her to bed, when she told me this. I was floored. I had so many questions. So many whys.

Over the years, she did give me answers. She never wanted FIL to live with that stigma. Abortions were illegal, dangerous, and with her faith, immoral. Adoption? She thought about it, but she had already lost so much she loved that by the time she felt him move, she knew Noone would love him and fight for him as much as she would. Noone fought for her, but she will fight EVERYTHING for him. And many more, but I believe that those specific details should remain private.

We lost Nana in 2018. She was the most amazing women I have had the privilege of knowing. She loved unconditionally. Whenever someone mentions being a "Good Christian" ,I imagine how she treated everyone.p Like they were her favorite cousin, aunt, uncle, brother or sister that she is arms wide welcoming after a long separation and she can't wait to hear about your day.

Or make your day better with a glass of milk and her famous macaroons. I miss you Nana, and now other's know your story. I know this is long, but I couldn't tell her story in just a few sentences.

Username: SuperHellFrontDesk

I hope you guys get a good laugh. So my dad's a chef. 20+ years of service. He's retired now. Over those 20 years I've heard, and seen glimpses of his secret recipe book. Never read a page of it. He has shown it to me maybe four times my whole life.

He told me, "Son, this contains all the recipes I've ever made." He never wanted me to become a chef (immigrant family upbringing = never let your child become a manual laborer). Fast forward, I'm in my early 30s. At this time I've moved out about 5 years and I've become a IT tech, but I still cook a lot. One night I made this chicken curry purely from memory.

I remember watching my dad make it so many times when I lived at home. One day I made it and brought it over to my parents place. My sister tastes it, points to my dad in shock and goes, " This tastes exactly like yours!!". My dad tasted it and he casually agrees. I go home thinking nothing of it.

Over the course of the following week, I started getting texts from my cousins. "Your dad was raving about this chicken curry you made. I didn't know you cooked!". For context. We have a very large family. 6 siblings on both my mom and dad side. Lots of aunts, uncles, cousins etc etc. My dad is "The Chef". He gets called to cook for large gatherings and important family events.

So when I started getting messages, I didn't understand what was going on. Fast forward to a few weeks later. I'm over at my parents. I'm sitting in the living room. My dad goes into the bedroom and comes out with this black leather folder. He goes "This is for you. I want you to have this." It's the recipe book.

I unzip the folder and start flipping through the recipes. At this point my dad has walked into the kitchen, leaving my sister and my then-girlfriend in the livingroom. Im leafing through the book and I'm trying to contain my laughter. My gf goes," what's so funny".

My dad's still in the kitchen, so I'm quietly reading the first recipe to her " Lentil Soup for 400 people. Ten pounds of onions, two pounds of salt, 30 lbs of raw lentils..."

All these years I thought these were his personal recipes. The countless dishes he's made for us. Turns out these were the restaurant dishes he's made over the years. So, unless you're trying to feed 500+ people, this is completely useless. I even tried to reduce all the quantities and measurements for like, a family of 4, but it was almost impossible.

Were both trying to keep from bursting out laughing. I could barely keep a straight face the entire night. We leave a few hours later, get home and we start looking through the pages, and laughing till tears rolled down our eyes. Fast forward another few years, to last week.

My gf (been together two years, and we bought a house) and I were unpacking and she found the black leather folder. She asks me "what do you want to do with this?". I burst out laughing and said "I'll never throw this away."

Username: antons83

My uncle didn't lose his eye in a boating accident (he's a sailor): he was shot in the head by an ex-girlfriend's new boyfriend. This happened in Turkey (he's actually from NZ), so he had to spend some time recovering in a fairly shitty hospital there before he could return home.

*I* knew about it when it happened. The person who was kept in the dark was my grandma, because it would've broken her. She was also in the early stages of dementia at the time. She had a hard life (like so many of her generation), and my dad and his other siblings believed it best to not tell her the truth, since in the end all he lost was an eye and not his life.

Another thing my grandma was kept in the dark was far more serious, and happened several years later: my auntie's husband - something like 15-20 years younger than her, something she was *super* proud of, despite the fact he was an ex-jailbird and used to hit her - burned down their house when his basement meth lab blew up. We found out about it when the news reported a house burned down on their street, and a man about his age was severely burned in the accident, and a 50-something year old red-head woman was seen running from the housefire.

I don't know the full details of the police investigations - and I suspect my auntie isn't really allowed to talk about it, nor wants to; but she was given full immunity, and sent to live somewhere else in the country - likely in a trade for information. As the story *might* go, she was a battered-wife looking for a way out of a marriage to a violent and criminal husband, but was unwilling to dob in her husband.

Anyway, presumably she provided some good information, because her husband suicided in the hospital - presumably to avoid a lengthy jail sentence. Given his involvement in the meth trade, it's hard to say for certain if he suicided by choice, or was possibly even murdered. Maybe I've watched too much Breaking Bad.

Anyway, back on track: since grandma's dementia was further progressed - and because my auntie wasn't charged - the story my grandma got was that her husband had died suddenly of a heart attack, and that my auntie moved to the countryside for a change of lifestyle.

I don't know if these were the right choices to make (and *I* didn't have a hand in the matter, since I'm just the grandchild and live in an entirely other country, and aren't that close to much of my extended family as a result); but, grandma went to her grave not knowing that her son was nearly murdered because his ex-girlfriend was psychotic, nor that her daughter got in with a bad crowd and had some criminal events change her life in dramatic ways.

I think because both son and daughter ended up OK (all things considered), it was just easier to lie to an ailing old woman who didn't have much else to hold on to after a tragic life of her own than her children, and spare her the tragedies.

Username: MrSlipperyFist

My oldest paternal uncle was not my paternal grandfather's kid. My 15 year old grandmother was seeing two guys at once and got pregnant. One was a young starving artist type and the other (my grandfather) was an older blue collar guy. She had no idea who the father was and went with the safer of the two options; my grandfather.

When my other uncle and dad came along, the difference between the oldest and his brothers was pretty plain. My dad and my younger uncle looked like carbon copies of my grandfather to the point that 5 year old me had issues telling the two apart the first time I met my uncle in person. My oldest uncle looks a little like my grandma but otherwise you wouldn't have picked him out as a sibling to my dad and younger uncle.

To add to this: My oldest brother is probably not my dad's kid and my middle brother was thought not to be my dad's kid but my son's birth proved that my middle brother was my dad's kid. Basically my dad was a strawberry blonde (his mom had fire engine red hair and his dad blonde). I am auburn and my middle brother is bright red but not the same red as my grandma. My son came out with the exact shade of red as my brother. Too bad Dad has been gone 12 years and can't see it.

The oldest probably isn't dad's kid because Dad was deployed Oct - Feb and my brother was born that following Sept, 10lbs and some change and decidedly not a preemie. I think Dad knew (at least he told his family and they were outraged for him) but he passed before at home DNA tests were a thing.

There's some other drama involving my dad's extended family that I didn't get told until I was older. My dad had a cousin who was a shaken baby and stuck at the mental age of 5-6. His grandmother (red haired grandma's mom) was probably a kidnapped Irish kid who was adopted to her family in the US.

There was a horse thief not too many generations back who was hanged for it. A great-great-grandfather who was a barkeep in a time when barkeep was not a good thing who was killed in a barfight and his kids raised by his very religious mother-in-law. Not to say my mom's family is any better.

Her aunt committed suicide, her grandmother is a mystery that may have gone the same way, her grandfather was a drunken wife beater, her other grandparents were the midwestern equivalent of Pennsylvanian dutch who only spoke German in the home and were strongly pro-Germany in a time when it was not a good thing to be. It's really interesting to me that the skeletons tend to come out of the closet as we get older....

Username: posey290

Growing up there was a kid in my neighborhood named A who was a big bully (I later heard he'd had a brother who died young? But that's someone else's family's secret). He teased everyone, tried to proposition me when we were older, pointed a "rubber band gun" at a kid with a latex allergy on the bus, just overall asshole

One time my maternal grandparents were over and I mentioned how much I hated that kid/his name. Grandpa got quiet. That's how I found out grandpa had a brother who had died too. But that's all I'd heard, that and the war (Korea? Probably?). He'd been a paratrooper. From that point on I'd imagine him parachuting down through a bright sky and assumed he'd died in combat or something

Fast forward a decade and a half. Grandpa, who I fucking adored, gets sick REALLY quickly. Some time in between his prior struggles with alcohol had come out. He never drank in my life time and we wouldn't even put wine on the table for holidays when we were around.

This was never discussed. Eventually my mom shared that he wasn't violent or mean; he'd come home every day and quietly drink a six pack by himself in front of the TV. (By the time I'd heard this I'd already been doing the same, but again, another story another time.)

He went from fine to hospitalized to hospice to gone so, so quickly. It was 2020, so we said goodbye on video chat. My grandfather was brilliant. Quiet, isolated, and I always wished more people had known him

After he died I learned of his instrumental role in 20th century telecommunications. I also learned that brother A had a son, also named A, who my mom hadn't seen since long before I was born. I still wish she'd tried harder to find him again. Then, in that casual way old people do, grandma told me the story

A had been an addict. Grandma was five years younger than grandpa and went to the same school (conceived my mom I mean got together at 18 and 23 and married shortly thereafter l o l) so she was closer in age to A. She and her friends smoked cigarettes, and drank sometimes, but didn't do "real drugs." A and his friends did. She stayed away from them

After high school A continued to struggle. He met someone. They struggled together. My grandfather struggled to be there for A in ways his parents could not. Then, A disappeared. For a while. I don't know how long.

Then, like in some cheesy ass movie, one day their parents got a call. "A is dead." He'd been found, in the street, on the opposite side of the country. The kid, A Jr., was with his maternal grandparents then I think and I guess that's where he stayed

At A's funeral, his old friends showed up. They were visibly fucked out of their minds. My grandpa tried to keep the services appropriate and civil (this must've been the 70s?). He basically played referee between the grieving "sides." Eventually things got out of hand and he had no choice but to get the friends to leave. I cannot imagine what he was feeling in that moment

After that, he got quieter. Didn't make many new friends himself. Worked and commuted. Drank by the TV. Went quietly, at 80, practically overnight. Grandma moved out. I moved in.

Not the craziest story on here by far. But it's so cinematic to me. The phone call. The funeral. The quiet nights alone. He'd told me his earliest memories were his father sitting by the window with the lights off, a drink in hand, watching WW2 planes fly low over the city outside.

Now, I sit in his house and drink after work. But I'm trying my best to not end up the same way. I love you grandpa. Can't believe it's been three years.

Username: didosfire

My mom’s side of the family is from New York, and we’re predominantly Italian. Growing up, I was always really close with my Mema (maternal grandmother), but as I got older it was obvious that she clearly had some trauma.

Apparently way back in the day, her father (my great grandfather) was a real piece of shit. My great grandmother was your typical little fireplug Italian woman, and so when she came to the US she was able to get a job as a live-in maid for a “prominent” Italian family on Long Island.

They loved her, paid her well and basically treated her like one of the family (my mom has some really cool old paintings that were given to her as a gift that have been passed down). She met my great grandfather, who didn’t start acting like an asshole until after they were already married and had three children.

Anyways, my POS great grandfather would beat my great grandmother as well as my Mema and my great aunt, and was routinely a nasty drunk. It’s speculated there was also some sexual abuse of the children, but my Mema never talked about it, and I never asked.

He would also take all of my great grandma’s money, disappear to gamble it all away, and come back in a drunken haze (sometimes weeks later) with not even the clothes on his back. And of course, she took him back every time.

Eventually, the wife of the family that my great grandmother worked for took her aside and basically told her “listen, we all really like you, you’re one of our own. My husband told me to let you know that as soon as you want something done about that asshole, let me know. We’ll take care of it”.

My great grandma thanked her, and things continued as normal for a while. One time though, after my great grandpa had finished beating her and had left with her money, I guess she had finally had enough and she went to her boss to ask for help.

The last time she saw her husband he was naked in the trunk of her boss’s car. Officially he was just another drunk who disappeared in New York after losing too much money in a crap game or something. And I don’t believe anybody even showed up to the “funeral” they held. I never met my great grandmother, but I wish I had. I would have wanted to thank her for saving my grandma from her father.

We’re still friendly with that family, even though none of us live in New York anymore. We send Christmas cards, and my mother and my aunt, as well as my little brother and I have godparents from the family. They’re pretty cool.

Username: kasakavii

When I was less than a year old, my grandmother (on my moms side) had it in her will to leave equal portions of her life savings to each of her grandkids when she passed. She passed right before my first birthday so as a result I received about $10,000 in inheritance, which was locked in an account until I turned 18 years old.

That’s the story I was told growing up. This is the real story I didn’t hear about until I was an adult and I got reacquainted with my older sister. So apparently around the time I was born, my mother was attempting to gain the rights as to what happens with the funds granted to each of the grandkids.

Her mother had already specifically barred any of her own children from receiving anything, although initially to my surprise my grandmother was originally only granting that money for college tuition.

My mother was able to seize some rights to the will shortly after I was born and change, against my grandmothers will and knowledge, to allow each child to do with the money as they pleased when they turned 18.

Here’s where it gets interesting. My grandmother was living by herself at the time, in a duplex with a hot tub in the basement. She was also a raging alcoholic. One day she had called my mother and her sister to come help her move some furniture for her, all shortly after my mother changed the conditions of her will.

According to my mother and aunt, when they got to the house, nobody answered. When they used the spare key to get in, they found their mother drunk, upside-down in a hot tub. According to police she was intoxicated and fell in, and was unable to get out before getting help.

But according to paramedics, she has not been dead for very long after the initial report was made. The timing was very close, as she would of had to of been drowning as they were at the door, or some action was taken to put her there on purpose, since she was elderly and most certainly tipsy.

Given their complex history, and the fact that my mother never gave any level of detail about her own family, especially her own mother, during my entire childhood it raises the suspicion that she was perhaps had some hidden malicious action by them.

Perhaps to secure their children’s inheritance, or perhaps out of spite for not being included in her will. Either way it’s chilling and it makes me glad I don’t talk to my mother anymore.

Username: Sliesttugboat