|
Apr 10
2009
|
Immigrant FaithPosted by Julian Park in Untagged |
My father grew up in a household with two mothers, and
eleven siblings. My grandfather had secretly married his second wife, and my grandmother had no idea he was
already married before she moved to his hometown. My father barely
finished junior high school, and was forced to work for my grandfather,
while his brothers and sisters all went on to high school, and some of
them to college. He started working at the age of about 14, doing hard
physical labor for my grandfather until he passed away. Once a fairly
wealthy man, my grandfather had left this earth with almost nothing in
his possession, only a dozen heartbroken children who never even had
the time to think about how unusual or dysfunctional their own family
was.

