Last week I posted the picture below on Facebook and Instagram. There were hundreds of responses. You can see some here. At the bottom of this post is a new prompt you can respond to now.
Our grandfather would never pull the car over for any of us when we needed to stop to use the bathroom. God bless our grandmother, who would roll down her window and throw out her purse forcing him to stop for us.
I figured out that when my grandfather was referred to as a WW2 POW, what they meant to say was Holocaust survivor.
My paternal grandfather was a nazi.
It was a freezing night in Illinois when a fight with my mom escalated to her chasing me through the house with a mop. It was a 1980’s mop. The kind with a metal hinge and long handle for rinsing.
I ran into my bedroom, turned back, and rushed to lock the door. Her footsteps went silent. I saw the doorknob turn then stop. . .BANG.
She was hammering the door with the head of the mop. It wasn’t long before I could see metal splintering through the upper left door panel. A few steps away was my window. I was there struggling to get it open. Before she got in, I had jumped down. I instantly felt the wet snow on the bottom of my socks. Down our dark empty street, I ran to my girlfriend’s house. I knocked on the door and tried to slow my breathing as I waited. What came next is what I remember most vividly from that night.
“Why aren’t you wearing a jacket? Where are your shoes!?”
I made up a story to hide my secret. She didn’t believe me but she allowed me to keep it.
My teenage children continue to believe their Grandmother is dead.
Once I tried to kill my mom.
I didn’t find out until 2019 that my grandfather and grandmother started their relationship when he was her teacher her senior year in high school.
My grandma went across the Canadian border to marry and divorce in secret.
Read how people in the PostSecret Community have responded to this, or share your own family memory on the PostSecret Facebook page.
The Museum of Us in San Diego reopens, April 21st!
I’ll be there to celebrate, will you?