I was born into a Christian family, where my parents were both first generation Christians. My dad was the only child of an alcoholic father and my mom came from another style of similar dysfunction.

I don't know very much about the growing up years of either of my parents. I never thought that to be strange until I was nearly 40 years old. By this time, I was an ordained minister, a certified alcoholism counsellor and in full-time ministry for more than 15 years. At this time my dad, quite unexpectedly, told me: "I hope you know that your grandfather was an alcoholic!" He said this in the midst of a discussion with me about the nature of alcoholism. Obviously I had touched on something quite sensitive for him and his response was shocking to me.

I was running a ministry at our church, specifically designed to help the extended family members of alcoholic homes. I had no idea I was one of these myself. I taught often how family systems like this would keep secrets around things they felt shame about. Was I surprised to realise just how tight some of these secrets can be, even for me as a trained alcoholism counsellor, having worked in the addiction field for more than 15 years.

As I grew up, there were subtle, often unspoken, messages that my brothers and I were lucky to live in such a home. The general idea was that most other homes weren't quite as loving, graceful and opportunity oriented as ours. I grew up thinking that most of what had touched other families had not touched us. I never really thought about not knowing very much about my family history. It all came crashing in that day dad abruptly told me of his dad's alcoholism. It seemed even stranger, since I had known my grandfather. All I knew was that he was the last one in my dad's family to meet Jesus.

This had happened as I was growing up. The worst habit I knew he had was his cigarette smoking, which I remember. How they kept all the rest from me and my brothers, all those years, was puzzling to me. I suddenly felt like my dad was a real stranger to me. "What had it been like for him", I pondered. Since I knew so much about the trauma of alcoholic homes, I was a bit frightened to really find out. It all really made me wonder who I was as well.

Some years later, my mom's mother died, so my brother and I were asked to perform the funeral. When we were trying to do a family history to share, we realised we didn't know our grandfather's first name. My brother felt reluctant to even share about him, since he had the thought that they had been divorced. "Where did you hear that?" I asked. "I don't know"! He responded. Here we were, well into our 40's and hardly knew enough to perform the funeral of our own grandmother. I went immediately to see my dad to ask him the name and enquire about the divorce thing. He assured me that it was true, in a very matter of fact way, which left me feeling a bit crazy. One of my immediate thoughts was, "Have I been adopted?" "Do I really belong to this family?" "What else don't I know?"

None of these things should have been all that earth shaking, except that all my life I had been led to believe that we were 'special'. That just meant, we had been spared what others had not. "We were the lucky ones!" I remember feeling shame in a way I had only been able to talk about theoretically. I felt so strange and if the earth had begin to quake under my feet. "Who in the world am I?" "Who in the world are we?" I felt fear of impending doom.

"Something is really wrong with us! Something is really wrong with me!" This was probably the closest I have ever come to being depressed. Even with all my training, I couldn't seem to help myself.

After some time, I was able to stop the 'free fall' and talk myself into all the things I had told so many others over the years. "There is hope!" I thought it, but didn't yet feel it. I knew what I needed to do. I needed to talk to my dad and ask for more information. I needed to process this thing that had been left unprocessed for so many years, even for my dad.

It took me 6 months to come to this point and get my nerve up. I asked my dad, "What was it like for you, Dad?" He responded, "It was bad!" That was it and that was all he was going to say. I nervously inched further. "How bad was it, Dad?" He again responded, "It was really bad!" From the look on his face, I was certain that this was all I was going to get. My courage had now gone anyway, so I just retreated. I was breaking a very strong 'no talk' rule and it was exhausting.

At least 10-15 years later, my dad was in a meeting where I was speaking on the power of secrets. Immediately after the meeting, he brought up the subject of his dad's alcoholism. He was so open and willing to talk (it seemed) about the whole thing. I learned more in that short time than I had ever known about his childhood with an alcoholic father. I loved him even more, knowing all the facts. We were somehow closer. The 'secret' had robbed us of this for so many years. My mom had passed away by this time, or I think many more things might have come forth about both their lives. I was even more sorry she was gone. I missed her all over again, but in an even more profound way. I understood myself better and my brothers as well. Somehow many pieces came together. I wasn't nearly as confused anymore about so many things. "We did have a neat family!" I was able to love them even more and certainly more genuinely than I had before I knew these secrets.

Somehow I was saddened that it had taken us so long. Now don't think we have talked about everything. I am sure there is so much more to know, but we got unstuck somehow and for that I am so grateful. My parents had really been heroic in their effort to make our lives so much better. They had really tried and I loved them for it!

I speak to you as a grandchild of an alcoholic. We didn't have the drinking, but we had so much of the same shame. I hate that shame (confusion)! My wife and I are talking more with our kids and hopefully their generation will even have more peace and much less shame. "Would you forgive me?" and "I love you" are pretty commonly heard among us now.

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