This is a story that my mother and aunts told me when I was in high school.

I am 21 now and it has never left me.

I think about it constantly in ponder over what happened.

My grandfather passed close to a year ago in June of 2020.

It was 96 when he died and it caused some issues in my family.

They don't really pertain to the story but there are some things about him that I have

to share in order to explain the story in the best way.

My grandfather John was a man who was extremely old fashioned.

It was bitter, abusive, and a complete macho man.

My mother was raised on never showing emotion or pain due to his abuse and lack of compassion

for others.

He was also an extreme racist.

He had many secrets in my family that are now coming to light after his death.

Everything that happened around him was brushed off and forgotten because he had more

important things to do like drinking and having affairs.

Just an overall intent and very no nonsense type of man.

He also was not religious at all and found things like faith and hope stupid.

This story takes place sometime in the 70s, most likely early to mid 70s.

My mom was born in 1965 and remembers this story clearly.

It was one summer day and John decided to take his family on a small outing with the

intent to have a picnic in the woods.

My mother, her three sisters, and her mother, slash my grandmother, were all there and

...