Every family has secrets, but some are more tragic than others. Sadly, some folks don't get handed the luckiest set of cards in life. These people took to Reddit to share the most tragic secrets that their families tried to keep from them. Content has been edited for clarity.
Two Brothers, One Day
“The saddest story I know of is when my dad lost two of his brothers.
Brother One had just gone through heart bypass surgery and fully refused to recover in the hospital. As soon as he could, and against doctor’s wishes, he checked himself out and went home. He then took a hot bath, which caused his sutures to rupture internally. His daughter found him in the tub the next day.
Brother Two was flying to Texas for a business meeting when air traffic control lost his transponder over North Texas. It took searchers two weeks to find the wreckage. My best guess is he had a heart attack and went in, crashed in the middle of nowhere. He was flying alone.
We find out, once all the information is in, that they likely died within hours of each other.
It’s the only time I’ve ever seen my dad cry.”
He Left Them Penniless
“My great-great uncle immigrated from the Philippines to the United States after fighting with the guerrillas and the US Army. He was promised compensation/retirement from the US but never received it. He ended up working for two very kind wealthy ladies who decided to give their workers (a small staff of all POC) their inheritance since they had no other family. We don’t know numbers, but since they lived in a mansion and had live in staff, it would’ve been a decent amount. When they both passed, their lawyer altered the will, so he got all the money and left the hardworking staff nearly penniless without a home.
It was sadly the 1950 or 60s, even if they could afford a lawyer or PI, there’s no way a jury would take their side. The saddest part for him wasn’t missing the money, but the fact that the lawyer took advantage of the death of two kind old women to basically ruin their last wish of wanting to reward the people that cared for them.
I really hope karma got back at him.”
A Dark Part Of History
“My direct ancestor was a General in the American Civil War for the Confederacy and I am named after him. Well, I’m named after my uncle who was named after his grandfather who was named after him. There are statues of him to this day.
Prior to the civil war our family were big time slave owners, like the 1% of the 1% rich – US Senators in your back pocket powerful. Despite being a white guy, I have a common black last name. I feel sorry for people that don’t put it together right away when they notice why a white guy would have a black person’s last name.
A large portion of that half of the family is still very…well stereotypical Ozarks racist that speak of the Confederacy in a positive light.
For my immediate family that has nothing to do with the rest: It’s a dark part of our history but I feel strongly that it should not be hidden because to pretend it didn’t happen is almost as bad as attempting to justify it.”
One Decision Affected Many Generations
“My great-great-great-grandmother was conned by a charismatic cult leader into joining the religion and leaving her husband (while pregnant). She was tricked (or religiously coerced/commanded) into becoming one of the cult leader’s secret polygamous wives.
After the cult leader was killed by an angry mob, the second in command took leadership, and with it, he took the first guy’s additional wives.
He impregnated my great-great-great grandma, and I’m descended from that racist, lying, narcissistic goon who claimed to be God’s prophet.
The saddest part is my entire family has been thoroughly brainwashed and immersed into the cult for the last five generations, except for a few of us who have woken up recently thanks to the internet.”
The New Guy
“My uncle killed a fellow soldier in Vietnam. I’m not supposed to know the full story, but family talks. I hardly know my uncle as he has driven trucks cross-country ever since I can remember. I was always aware he fought in Vietnam and had PTSD, but nothing else.
He was drafted to serve in Vietnam (presumably early 70s) and was placed in an infantry unit. The new guys weren’t received particularly favorably as he had to always go in front of patrols and the new guys were hardly spoken to and referred to as ‘Corpse 1, 2.’ He didn’t see much action in the form of firefights. Now and again they were shot at. No lengthy exchanges, but often someone was killed or severely wounded. Most of the casualties came from mines or explosive devices that my uncle’s unit encountered on patrol.
Fairly quickly, the other two new guys were killed by traps leaving my uncle as the only new guy. He was bullied quite badly, beaten up a few times when he requested a move to a less dangerous position, and was told he was just there to be killed so that the other unit members could survive.
He started having nightmares and would wake up screaming, but that just led to the other guys in his unit tying him up and bandaging his mouth.
He basically cracked and one day when back at a base he shot dead the ‘worst one’ in his unit and just walked up to an officer and told him what he did.
My uncle must have had a good lawyer or something as he served just under 10 years in prison before he was released.”
Better Without Her
“My mom is the most tragic person I know.
Her mom forced her to have an abortion when she was 15 (this was about 1975). She is schizophrenic and the forced abortion drove her into a mental institution for a while.
She had me when she was 17. My biological father was run off by my grandpa threatening to shoot him, so I never knew him.
When I was about 7, I had terrible asthma. This, on top of me being autistic, made me a target of a lot of insults from my mom. My mom would get very annoyed at me and would constantly be saying ‘stop that hacking.’ She worked a late shift and me, her, and my sister usually ended up sharing a bed since we were very poor. Well, one night I had a terrible coughing fit and mom started hugging me. Only, she was hugging me so tight that I couldn’t breathe. This went on for a bit, and she finally let go. She started crying and I felt bad for her and told her that I loved her, and she started crying more. When I got older, I figured out that she wasn’t just hugging me then – she was trying to crush me to death that night. I was always treated like the black sheep of the family and this just drove me further from my family of origin.
Mom’s next notable craziness was her husband hooking my younger 12-year-old sister up with a 23-year-old man. I didn’t find out about this for years (as I said, I was shunned in the family and I mostly kept to myself anyway). They ended up getting married when my sister turned 18.
Fast forward to when I got married at 25. Mom, of course, fought with my wife and this led to us cutting her off. It went like this for a number of years with us having no contact. After my kid was born, I tried reconnecting with her, but this just led down the same old paths, so I ended up cutting all ties with her after my stepdad (who I was very close with) died of prostate cancer at just 57 years old.
After this happened, I was harassed by my mom because my grandfather left my sister and I everything and excluded everyone else out of his will. I thought this was strange because, as much as I loved my grandpa, I never considered myself very close to him. Turns out, that the biggest reason why my mom and my younger brother were excluded in the will was because they had murdered my grandpa’s dogs.
My sister was made executor of the will, and my mom harassed her so much that my sister cut ties with her as well.
Last thing I heard about mom was that my brother was taking care of her. He was always the one who could get along best with her, although before I finally cut ties with my family, he told me that one day he hauled off and slapped the daylight out of mom because she was going off on him. She has a bad coke habit now and is working as a nurse at a veteran’s center.
There is a lot more I’ve left unsaid, but my family is straight up nuts and I’m better for leaving them.
Mom is a tragic person, some because of her own upbringing, some because she is mentally ill, and some by her own actions.”
The Mystery Boy
“My great aunt (mom’s side) has been through so much.
I remember going to her house often as a child, always seeing the same pictures of an unknown boy all around her house.
I finally asked my mother as an adult who the child was because my great aunt didn’t have any children.
She then told me the story of my great aunt’s life.
As teenagers, my grandma and her sisters immigrated to the US from Mexico. They all worked at a bar that my great grandma owned at the time. The plan was to work until they were able to get married, then become stay at home moms and live off their husbands.
Well, my great aunt finally marries at 18. Her first husband is extremely abusive. He wanted children, but every time my great aunt fell pregnant, he beat her so much that she would miscarry. And then he would beat her because she miscarried. She would run away to her mom’s house, begging for an escape from her husband. Every time she did this, her mother would drag her back to her husband. She was told that she was her husband’s property at this point, if he wanted to beat her, he was allowed.
She finally had a baby. A little boy. But she was so scared of her husband, she didn’t want him to beat her little boy like he beat her.
She meets a man at a bar, over time they become very close. He sees the bruises all over her and decides that this man needed to be dealt with. She made a plan to escape with him. There’s fighting involved between the two men, but they make it out with a few belongings.
They fall in love and make a new life together, the three of them. She later learns that she cannot have anymore children, as a result of the abuse and many miscarriages. Her baby was a miracle child in her eyes.
And then her son becomes diagnosed with leukemia. He was 8 years old when he died.”
If Only Someone Cared
“My grandfather’s uncle (let’s call him Raj for simplicity) was an Indian freedom fighter during British rule in India. But he wasn’t a peaceful Gandhi man – he was a part of an armed group that got into skirmishes with British soldiers and officers. One day he was making a bomb in his home. I’m not sure about what its intended use was but killing British people is the basic assumption. The bomb exploded whilst he was making it, which killed him and blinded his wife.
After independence, the families of dead freedom fighters were awarded government support, but Raj was labelled a militant. His wife was kicked out her in-laws’ house after a few years as they didn’t want her around. Her own family wouldn’t take her back due to the nature of her husband’s death. My grandfather took her in, as a member of the family living on the streets would be bad for reputation. Everyone (grandfather included) treated her like a pest and never cared for her. My dad was just a child, but he remembered her to be a wonderful caring lady, and he was the only one who ever liked her. His one regret in life was not being able to care for her.
She contracted the flu in her 70s and no one bothered to take her to the hospital or get her medication. It worsened, and she died a blind, penniless widow who was treated as a nuisance by her own family and her death was completely avoidable had someone cared.”
The Fire That Changed Everything
“Most of my grandfather’s family got split up after a house fire.
My youngest great uncle was playing with the fire place and caused the fire to spread into the carpet. My great grandparents managed to get all their kids out of the house, but my great grandfather (who was wasted) mistakenly thought there was another kid inside and went to get them with a bucket of water to put out flames. By this point, the building was engulfed in the fire and he never made it out. The chimney collapsed on him.
My grandfather and his sister tried to help my great grandmother support the family, but it was a massive struggle and my great grandmother ended up sending most of her kids into foster care, including her newborn. They didn’t have any contact information, but over time, we managed to find all but two of them, including the newborn who was given up.
Beyond the siblings who were kept though, none of the ones we found are super close. That side of my family got pretty split up because of it.”
The Escape
“My Asian grandparents, mother, and uncle are refugees of the Vietnam war. My mom was only 2 at the time while my uncle was 4.
They took the boat to escape the war, and they encountered the pirates along the journey. People were attacked and killed. My uncle was nearly thrown off the boat, but thankfully his uncle caught him. For my grandma, I don’t know much, but I’m assuming she was attacked because I’d see a bunch of small scars all over her arms (plus she used to a beautiful, skinny woman – she’s still beautiful, but she gained weight).
Along the boat ride, food was running out so everyone had to resort to cannibalism, and my poor grandma had to eat her own sister to stay alive. I think it’s because her sister was about die – I don’t know the full detail. I don’t know what happened when they arrived, My mom didn’t tell me about what happen after the boat ride, but she did tell me that my grandma would scream in her sleep from time to time due to nightmares.
My grandparents are still alive, they had a third child and are looking okay. My grandpa just sits around smoking and drinking after work while my grandma works to make clothes and gambles from time to time.
They are good people, and they’re quite social since they do karaoke together with friends in most nights. As for their relationship with each other, they get along from time to time, but would have intense arguments from time to time. They used to hit each other and smash stuff while my mom and uncles were kids. But they don’t do that anymore.
This is all said by my mom by the way. My Grandparents speak very little English and I speak very little Vietnamese. Plus I don’t think they wanna relive the nightmares of escaping the war.”
Life Was Never Kind To Him
“On my maternal side, my grandpa had two brothers. My great grandpa was a ROYAL moron — verbally and physically abusive and just overall not a great person. Out of the three brothers, my grandpa came out the most normal and was a great man. The second brother, Bernie, is like just like his father and is just a selfish, garbage, coward of a person. The third brother was Joey — he was very quiet, introverted kid growing up but was extremely intelligent and often got the brunt of the abuse because of those mentioned traits.
My grandpa joined the Marines, Uncle Bernie was in the air-force, and Joey got drafted into the army to fight in Vietnam. Vietnam destroyed Uncle Joey, like absolutely tore the man down. Joey went from being a nice, quiet man to a complete recluse. He never spoke about his time in Vietnam, and didn’t really have to – everyone knew how messed up it was and the things he saw and did. The government tried to give him a purple heart for his service, but he flushed it down the toilet despite my great-grandma’s wishes.
Later on in life, my Uncle Joey lived in a big house in our hometown. We knew he was a hoarder, but we really didn’t get the full scope of it until the city threatened to demo his house because of how dirty it was. So my Uncle Tom, my grandpa’s son, had been checking in on Joey all these years and making sure he’s okay. When he found out about the city trying to tear the house down, he went to city hall and basically tore them a new one, and threatened to go to the papers that they were going to destroy an elderly veterans home, but conceded that he would help clean the place up. The city gave in, and he kept the house for a few more years.
Uncle Joey died alone. When he wouldn’t answer my uncle’s calls, he went to go check on him and found him there. I was maybe 8 years old at the time, and after the funeral, I went with my uncle to the house. It was so depressing. There was dirt, grime, rat feces everywhere — but there were also fascinating objects scattered throughout the garbage. He had a full monkey skeleton, he had cool/creepy animal brains in jars, a super-super old (but broken) typewriter, another snake skeleton. Just all kinds of stuff. Uncle Joey was always interested in biology and science, and collected old things he would find in the weirdest places. He had more books than I’d probably ever seen outside a library.
Everything in that house was what was left of him after the war. He never really got to live a life, because his childhood was taken from him from his father and the war stole his adulthood. I think about him sometimes, and try to remember him for who he was and not what the world made him to be.”
Grandma Deserved Better
“My grandma’s mother was very sick and died a few months after her birth. Her father tried for a bit, but couldn’t handle taking care of a child. He sent my grandma to some center for children across the country, and she still speaks of how horrible it was and how homesick she felt. Eventually, her dad married again and abandoned her entirely for his new family.
Luckily, the sister of my grandma’s deceased mother stepped up and took her in. The sister was not even 20 yet herself and just married. After taking in my grandma, she had 15 more children that my grandma had to help raise. They lived a very poor life and my grandma grew up to be an introverted, thoughtful and sensitive person who couldn’t quite connect to her 15 ‘siblings’ the way she wanted to, but they are still close.
My grandma’s father never reached out to her again, but he did have three more children. My grandma ignored those children for years out of pain, but about ten years ago she changed her mind and got in touch with them. They aren’t super close to her, although I feel like this mended some of her issues.
I would love to say that my grandma’s life became much better later, but she married a grumpy salesman who’d cheat on her frequently with so many women, plenty of paid acquaintances included, and almost left her for their neighbor. They never moved, so they still live next to each other. All of my grandparents’ three sons had near-death experiences and psychological issues which took another toll on her. She’s had colon cancer for the last three years. And she’s simultaneously having dementia which causes her, the introverted, sensitive lady that I grew up with, to lash out harshly against anyone who ever hurt her. They deserve it, no doubt, but it’s hard to see her so opened up now, so hurt. I don’t want her to end up alone after everything. It’s hard. Every time I call, she ends up crying and asking me where I am and I feel so sorry for not being there, but my life is elsewhere now.
She did get what she wanted in one aspect, though. She had three sons and nine grandchildren. Her place is the center of the family, we all go in and out and know we’re always, always welcome because nothing is more important to her than her own family, despite all the drama. Whenever I visit home, her place is my first stop. She’s such an incredibly kind, strong person. She’s been like a mother to me growing up, she’s my role model, and she really didn’t deserve any of this. It saddens me every time I think about her.”
Not Everyone Has A Say In Who They Marry
“My grandmother married a man she didn’t love. If she didn’t marry him, I wouldn’t be alive, but it’s sad because she gave up someone she loved.
My grandmother was an immigrant from Lebanon, and she loved a boy from her village. He wasn’t up to my great grandparents standards, and they forbid her to be with him. In my culture, parents can be very strict with romantic relationships and this was in the 1940s in rural Lebanon.
So her parents chose my grandfather instead for her as he had big plans to immigrate to Australia. They got married and had three kids and then moved to Sydney, Australia, where they had one more child which is my father.
Sadly, my grandfather died in 1960 of a brain hemorrhage – a year after they immigrated.
My grandmother was a tough lady who didn’t take crap from anyone. She also accepted my mother, who is white, as the first white person to marry into the family.
As far as I know, they were happy, but I was so sad to hear that story.”