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Cheryl's father had an affair with his secretary when Cheryl was just four years old. Cheryl's mother, who had battled several bouts of depression, was overcome with grief and committed suicide. This left Cheryl, her two older brothers, and three sisters in the care of their father and his girlfriend.

The funeral was a somber affair: people were in shock at what happened and saddened to see the children left behind. There was also angry talk about the scandalous affair that was now public. People stared at the children and gossip abounded. Cheryl doesn't remember much about it except that her father's girlfriend sat at the very back of the church all alone. She thought that was strange because the children knew she was moving into their home that night.

Cheryl, her brothers, and sisters, all grew up, and though they didn't really like their stepmother very well, their lives were basically uneventful. No one had trouble with the law or drugs or had unwanted children. They simply grew up, secured good jobs, and moved away. Their family wasn't very close; however, they did come together when there was a need.

When Cheryl turned 34, her stepmother - now 52 - developed breast cancer. After a radical mastectomy and the removal of several lymph nodes, the prognosis was not good: the cancer had metastasized and spread into the chest area. They had caught it very, very late. The warning signs had been ignored and there was not much the doctors could do. She was near death.

Selfish and egocentric were not words to describe Cheryl, yet she felt tremendous guilt over not wanting to visit her father and stepmother, who lived only three hours away. Cheryl normally had minimal contact with her father. She didn't harbor anger at him, but she didn't really approve of his past behavior either. She didn't have much to do with him.

Cheryl's stepmother died within a week of her mastectomy. Cheryl decided she would go to the funeral and pay her respects. It was scheduled for Saturday. She would come to the worship service alone, hug her father, and leave immediately.

But that's not how funerals go. One brother called and then a sister called. Could they all get together a little earlier to help their father set up food? What if they each brought something to take the burden off the father? There was no church involved, no women's group to help. It was up to the children. Cheryl didn't want to be involved, but she begrudgingly came early that Friday with two huge salads in tow. Her husband would pick up their ten--year--old twin boys after school and come to spend the night.

Slowly, the preparation time turned into a reunion of sorts. All the children were there. They talked about their mother's funeral and filled Cheryl in since she had been so young. A brother just a little older than Cheryl shared how angry he was that his mother had shot herself. A sister shared that she hated the stepmother but was afraid that if she showed that hate, the stepmother might also shoot herself. There was much hurt in that home as the children remembered their past. But there was also much healing taking place. Nothing miraculous occurred. There was no flash of light, no lifting of hatred or resentment. But there was a strong sense of forgiveness as the children discussed what it would be like to live with a woman with untreated depression.

They tried not to make excuses for their father's actions, but the brothers wondered if their father had reached the end of his rope when he reached out for his secretary. Could they understand a little better what had happened now that they were grown with families of their own?

Their father joined them that evening and saw all the preparations. He was amazed and grateful. He told them he would have understood if none of them had come. Instead all six of his children were present. He shared how he met the children's mother, a beautiful woman who had wanted to be a singer. Her voice, although pretty, was not exceptional, and she couldn't bear the rejection when she didn't get singing parts in plays. She had become more despondent after the difficult births of each child, and only in hindsight did he see that she should have had medical intervention.

Cheryl's father choked back tears when he shared how freeing it was to tell his secretary that his wife was not well. They didn't mean for anything to happen, but the father needed to talk, and the secretary was willing to listen. After weeks and weeks of talking and sharing their feelings, they had let their feelings become intimate.

He made no excuses for himself. He turned to his children and admitted that what he did was wrong, although in a way he never regretted the chance to unburden himself. He stood there with his head hung low and told them he didn't expect forgiveness, just a little understanding.

The children were riveted. They had never heard so many words come from their father, much less personal words about the past, their mother, and their stepmother. Their father went upstairs to go to sleep, but the children talked through the night, questioning, debating, rebutting.

It was a good night. A good night to air their feelings, understand what the others felt, and clear misunderstandings. Cheryl says now that although she hadn't wanted to go to the funeral, it was the best thing that ever happened to her family. It gave them a chance to be supportive of their father, find understanding, and to be with each other. Each sibling had to come to his or her own terms with the past, but Cheryl feels a huge sense of relief to hear her father's side and to know her stepmother was emphatic about her love for her father. She feels that with time there is hope for reconciliation for all involved. They can never be the Ozzie and Harriet type of family, but they can become more of a family. Thanks to shared feelings, spoken words, and a funeral.