Grandma was always a secretive person. She never divulged much information about her life so when my parents asked me to go up into her spooky attic to find some old photo albums, I jumped at the chance to do some deep dive snooping. Especially since grandma always used to say that the stuff up here would be mine one day.

I reached up and pulled down the ladder leading up into the attic. Dust rained down and made me sneeze.

“Achoo! Achoo! Achoo! Three violent sneezes erupted out of me. “Dang grandma, when was the last time you were up there?” I muttered to myself.

Being 15 years old I thought I was brave and that creepy old attics shouldn’t bother me but as I ascended up those rickety stairs, I could feel my legs tremble and my heart race.

I carefully peeked over the edge and saw dark shadows in the dusty twilight. I reached over to turn on the light and suddenly the spooky dark shapes turned into boxes and old furniture.

Feeling a bit more secure in my safety; no ghosts or a murderer were going to pop out of nowhere and kill me now that I could see that the attic was a typical dusty attic.

I wandered through the boxes looking for the one my mom and dad sent me for. It was a box of old photographs from when my grandma and my grandpa were first married. It was supposed to have old photo albums from their early years and I guess my grandma was feeling nostalgic.

Moving the boxes and sneezing several more times I finically found a box labeled “old pictures.” “I think this is it” I muttered as I lifted the box and set it on the ground next to me.

I sat down and lifted the lid. I was terribly curious because my grandma has always been so secretive about her life. In the box were very old photographs. Intrigued I started to dig. The first few pictures were of little kids in old clothes staring at the camera unsmiling. I thought they may have been my grandma and her siblings as a kids. . I didn’t recognized a single person.

Feeling a bit frustrated since I knew these were not the photo albums grandma was looking for I couldn’t help but keep pouring over these photos. Who was this kid with the stick horse, unhappy pout and dog by his side?

I knew I should stop and look for the right box but the pictures kept getting weirder and weirder. Especially when I realized that one picture showed my grandma with a young man who was not my grandpa and they were hugging and kissing. The next few photos where of grandma and this man with the little boy in between them.

Very curious now I dig deeper. There were pictures of grandma and this man and the kid at rodeos and circuses. “Did grandma have a secret life?” I whispered. Deeper in the box I found an old newspaper article.

Carefully I took the old fragile paper out and unfolded it. “Family of 3 involved in a major accident.” There was a picture of an old car mangled around a tree. Curious I read more of the article. A man tried to murder his family by crashing his vehicle into a tree. The only survivor was Dorothy Miller.

I dropped the paper in horror. Grandma was only 17 when she married Richard Miller and gave birth right before her 18th birthday. Richard was trying to make it as a shoe salesman but his business was failing. Instead of changing his profession or trying something different, he got drunk and drove his family into a tree. Grandma was the only survivor.

I buried my head into my hands. I had no idea that grandma had another family before she had my dad. I know that grandma was almost 30 before she had my dad and he was her only child. My mind wandered the roads of possibilities. Did my dad know? Did grandpa know before he passed? Should I show my parents this? What should I do?

Silently I put the pictures back and put the lid on the box. I reached up to rub my face and I was surprised to find tears streaking down my face. I could not imagine the horror and grief my grandma experienced. No wonder she was so secretive. Sniffling I stood up and right in front of me was a box labeled “old photo albums”. With a loud sniff I reached over and picked up the box and started down the stairs.

Some secrets should stay secret but I decided to tell my grandma I found her box. Grief should be shared with love.