The Secret They Kept from Me

By Cathy Stockham

This is a true story of a secret that was kept from me until I was fifty-one years old. It all happened in a small Kansas Community that has a lot of pride and many secrets untold. You will want to read to the very last chapter to see how everything unfolds. My book reveals how my family handled this secret and what steps I took to come above it.
My first six chapters are about my familys life story. Introducing you to my family and community is helpful in setting the stage. It all starts out to be a basically normal childhood with stories that grip the readers. The fall of my parents marriage and the devastating affects of the divorce for my brother, my sister and I. The following chapters go deep into the family secret and how it all happened and why it was kept from everyone. Many facts go into this book that will be shocking to many. When the news was shared with other family members, their reaction was not pleasant and most of them were in denial. All the details revealed in my book and will open many hearts.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Mar 5, 2009
• ISBN: 9781462825400

Cathy Stockham

The mother of two grown children, Cathy makes her home in Missouri, with her husband, Quentin.

Book preview

Prologue

I have been married since 1972 to a great man. Together we had a son, Shawn, a daughter, Nikki, and have been blessed with a grandson. My husband Quentin and I were both born and raised in the same little Kansas community and met while I was still in High School. We had a successful business and dabbled in other small business as well. We lived a good and normal life for our children and ourselves.

Raising our children in a Christian atmosphere was very important to us. We attended church and always taught our children the importance of having a relationship with God. I was very involved in our church and made sure both children went to Sunday school, church camps, and other church activities. I even taught Sunday school a few years and was a youth counselor. My father and mother raised me in a Christian home and I was going to do the same for my children.

During those years my husband’s parents had passed away as well as his older brother. That was very hard for all of us. Most of us learn very quickly that nothing lasts forever. We have learned to treasure family each day and cherish all the memories from those who are no longer with us.

Now I would like to take you through some of my childhood, before I was aware of a secret that was being kept from me. Why did I decide to tell this story? Maybe for myself and my healing, but honestly I wanted to let the world know nothing is perfect, anything can come along and surprise you in life. Many families have hidden secrets that might surface but some are taken to their grave. My family’s secret surfaced when I was 51 years old. With the help of my mother’s stories and my memories, this is my story.

The events are based on true events, but some names have been changed.

Chapter 1

I honestly thought I had a normal life. I had a mother, father, sister and brother. My sister Sandy and I did not get along that well. She had a problem at birth, which caused her to develop some issues in her manner and how she handled life. She is a very sweet person but does not control her emotions very well. Therefore, she and I did not get along. My brother Randy and I, on the other hand, were always very close and still are to this day. My parents did not get along very well. They never showed any love for each other. Although they never fought in front of us, you could always feel their tension.

Dad worked many hours at a local construction company and you could tell that he loved his profession. When he was home, he was always working on something around the house. Mom did not work much, only occasionally at some stores downtown.

We had the best grandparents any kid could ask for. My grandma and grandpa on mom’s side were great. They lived in a large city and we would visit them a lot. Randy and I and my two cousins, from that area, always hung out together. We had so much fun. I should rephrase that; I had so much fun with them. I was the only girl and I was the youngest child. They didn’t have much of a choice hanging with me because Mom made Randy take me wherever he went, so the three boys were stuck with me. All three of them were very good to me though, and I did my best to keep up with them and their boyish ways.

Our grandpa was a kid himself and kept us entertained. We did so many fun things with him. There were times Grandpa would take all of us in his car and drive down to what we called the slums in the greater Kansas City area. He would stop the car and let all of us sit on the back of it while he drove very slowly through the streets. He wanted us to see first hand how other people lived. While riding on the back of the car, we would be so close to homeless people and all that went along with that environment. I think back at those times and just shiver, thinking how dangerous that was. Nevertheless, we always went along with him when he would suggest such things. We spent a lot of time playing in the yard at their home also. It doesn’t sound like much, but grandpa always made every day exciting.

I remember many times when we would be out front playing in the yard, grandpa would not be any where in sight and then all of a sudden he would come running out of the garage snapping his bullwhip and running straight for us. He would yell, You kids get out of my yard! You no-good-for-nothing brats! One snap of my bullwhip and you’ll be shredded up and packed away! Of course he was only kidding, but I remember being so scared he was actually going to snap us with it. I know now he made sure we were far enough ahead of him before he snapped his whip.

Grandpa would take all four of us to a local meatpacking and slaughter yard. We got to go inside and watch the workers slaughter cows. It was so gross, but it was fun mainly because we spent that time with our grandpa. Mom loved to tell the story about it to everyone. When we all got back from the slaughterhouse, grandma had supper ready for us on the dinning room table. She had made our favorite—meatloaf. I ran and sat right down at the table the minute I got into the house. All three boys said they weren’t hungry and went upstairs. I bring that up to the boys to this day how they were all wimps and I wasn’t. Grandpa’s fun was somewhat different than most but we loved him and treasured every time he would come up with something for us to do.

My grandma was a jewel. She was always in the kitchen and was a great cook. I remember her cakes most of all. I use to sit on the counter top and watch her bake cakes and then loved watching her frost them. She had a nervous problem and her head and hands were always shaking. As she frosted the cake with her spatula, her shaking hands made the most beautiful swirls. I treasure the memories of our visits.

All my aunts and uncles on Moms’ side were so good to us. They were all very wealthy and drove new cars every year. I was never jealous of them because they were good caring Christian people and I adored them all so much.

My dad’s parents were Free Methodist Pastors in a very small Kansas farm community. I said pastors, because both grandpa and grandma were preachers. I was always proud of that. In fact, grandma performed our wedding vows when Quentin and I were married. Grandpa and grandma were great grandparents. I loved all my aunts, uncles and cousins. They were more serious then my family on mom’s side though. As far as times spent with the cousins it was a little fairer for me when it came to playing with all them because there were two girls and one boy. Therefore, our together time was more balanced. We did love going to their home because we got to do farm life things. We were considered the big city folks and they were the country hicks. We all had so much fun when we spent time with them.

One memory that sticks in my mind to this day is when Grandpa made all of us pluck chickens. I cried so hard and did not want to do that but Grandpa made all of us do it because he said it would put hair on our chests. As a child, I wondered why he thought I needed hair on my chest and that really bothered me.

Grandpa did mostly small farm chores, because he was very busy with his church responsibilities. My uncle on the other hand had a huge cow farm. He had horses and was your stereotypical cowboy. Randy and I loved to watch the cows as my uncle and his hired hands would gather and herd them into a huge fenced lot. I remember it took us awhile to adjust to the smell. I always worried my friends back home would still smell it on me.

Another memory I have from one visit is when I cut my leg while swimming in a cow tank. My uncle did not live close to town so there wasn’t a doctor close by. It was a very big cut (which looking down at the scar I get a smile of my face to this day) and he knew I needed stitches. He knew exactly what to do and had my leg bandaged up in no time. I thought he was the smartest person in the world. I honestly believed he saved my life that day. Well, that is what I thought.

I learned quickly that most farmers are hunters. I never was around that at home so I never thought about it. One visit was during hunting season and all the men were getting ready for their big hunt. They were all talking about getting up early the next day and going out in the fields. I thought that sounded fun so I asked if I could go along. I was the only girl who asked to go. It was a very cold, brisk morning, but very beautiful. I enjoyed walking through the fields. We were quietly walking and suddenly everyone stopped and sat down. I was instructed to sit down, be very quite and absolutely no talking. After what seemed like hours of silence, all of them stood up at the same time, aimed their rifles and started shooting at all these beautiful birds that had came flying out of the field in front of us. I remember thinking Fly birds! Fly! Then after seemingly hundreds of shots were fired, several birds fell to the ground. I just gasped with horror.

As we headed home I accidentally looked at a bird hanging upside down over my uncle’s shoulder. It did not seem right to end their lives just for the satisfaction of having a good aim. I knew that day I would never go hunting again. Randy still loves to hunt and I