For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror;
then we shall see face to face.
Now I know in part;
then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.
1Corinthians 13:12
I thought I knew my parents.
Never did I have even an inkling
that my father had another secret part of his life.
Sifting through their possessions last fall
when we were cleaning out the apartment,
I found writings of his that shocked and sickened me.
Shocked? Well maybe not...
hadn't I had questions and some niggling doubts
when Jessica's abuse was brought to light?
He had access to her.
But why would I give a second thought
to him putting her to bed as a young child?
At the time, I never questioned
whether it was safe to leave her at my parents' house.
Turns out it wasn't safe...
that truth makes my stomach hurt all the time now.
If she had been able to tell me,
I know without a doubt
that I would have believed her!
Especially after my own experiences
with my mother's uncle.
The signs she did show did not fall outside
my own realm of
"normal behavior"...
she didn't sleep well anywhere
and would never make it through an
entire overnight with friends...
we checked under her bed every night,
checked the closet,
and made sure all the doors were locked.
(for as long as she lived in our house)
When she had nightmares, or just couldn't sleep
she would ask me to pray with her
and I did that gladly.
If I had known what was happening to her
I would have protected her.
But I never even suspected.
I'd like to ask my father:
How could you hurt my precious child in those awful ways
and still profess to love me...and her?
How could you live two such totally conflicting lives,
standing at a pulpit each Sunday and preaching to the congregation?
Did you struggle balancing evil and good?
When did you stop hurting her,
(though I'm thankful that you did)
and why?
Is anything I believed you to be, true?
Did my mother know what was happening?
Did she protect me?
and if so, why didn't she protect my daughter?
These questions keep going in my mind,
and I'm feeling stuck...
no way to get answers from a father who's dead,
or from a mother whose memory is skewed by
Alzheimer's Disease.
I am left with tainted memories.
I'd like to ask my father:
How could you hurt my precious child in those awful ways
and still profess to love me...and her?
How could you live two such totally conflicting lives,
standing at a pulpit each Sunday and preaching to the congregation?
Did you struggle balancing evil and good?
When did you stop hurting her,
(though I'm thankful that you did)
and why?
Is anything I believed you to be, true?
Did my mother know what was happening?
Did she protect me?
and if so, why didn't she protect my daughter?
These questions keep going in my mind,
and I'm feeling stuck...
no way to get answers from a father who's dead,
or from a mother whose memory is skewed by
Alzheimer's Disease.
I am left with tainted memories.
