It's been a long time since I've written anything here, and if I felt like reaching into my magic hat of bullshit excuses I could blame any number of things, like writing and directing shows, or who knows what.

The truth is I've just been cowering. I've been huddled in the corner of a theological no-man's land. That place where many of us shift uncomfortably in our seats, often not wanting to speak for fear of misspeaking. It started a few months ago.

My grandfather died. The one who molested me. He died in his yard and was discovered almost a full day after being dead, a starving stray growling at his side. I watched in stunned silence as that bag of skin was carried away, I comforted my mother and my aunts. I alerted my extended family. I went above and beyond so that his children could gather their wits. I picked out the clothes he was buried in.

Then as I slinked away from the people talking about him being in heaven with my grandmother, someone asked me to make a memorial video of him.

If I had half the spine I do with non-family I would have told them to fuck off and then stayed home as they mourned him.

Instead I diligently hovered over my computer, scanning images of my molester and making a slide show. I worked and lost sleep and almost had a breakdown. I finished the video. 

I found myself in a bit of a haze when my mother began scolding me for not forgiving him. She said I should have sympathy for him because he had such a damaged childhood. She told me he was a good father (in spite of his philandering, and drinking) and that he didn't like to beat his children.

I stayed silent, I was given some of the flowers sent to the family, and the vase had a cross on it. I numbly took it when my uncle obnoxiously announced, "Maybe we can find you a SECULAR vase."

This week my father-in-law died. A father in law who abandoned his wife of 39 years (with mental and physical health problems) and married an 18 year old girl in the Philippines. He left his new wife  without divorcing her.


He is dead and I'm getting those looks again as people say he's going to heaven and giving me the look, daring me to say otherwise.

I don't have the guts so I will say it here. They are dead, the world is a better place now without one of them and a less complicated one without the other. We will not see them again, and one day we will be dead too. Let it go. My lack of belief isn't what will keep them out of heaven, a lack of heaven is what will keep them out of heaven.

I am tired. I feel like I have been wrung dry.

Views: 39

Tags: death, molested, mourning, victim

Comment by Kir Komrik on November 4, 2012 at 2:26am

Hey Carol,

I'm sorry you had such a bad experience.

She told me he was a good father (in spite of his philandering, and drinking) and that he didn't like to beat his children.

At the end of the day, people have to responsible for their own actions. No one will drink more of my poison than a child beater. I have no patience for it and if these people were that hateful then one need not mourn their passing, imo. You're a tough survivor, my friend, and you'vd done well.

- kk

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