Today I went to my grandfather's funeral. It was one of the worst days of my life. But not in the way you might think. Most of you would think that it was because I lost him. No, that's not why.
My grandfather was not, to me anyway, the kind of grandfather anyone would want. When I was 12 he molested me. It was all fondling, but none the less it was molestation. It only happened the year that I was 12. Never before and not after.
I have been carrying this with me for 34 years now. My mother, father and sisters know about this, as do my husband and children. I don't know who outside of this circle knows, but I've not talked to anyone else about it.
I thought that I had learned to live with it okay. I found out that I was wrong.
I didn't want to go to his funeral, I just thought I would be there to support my mother. I never thought of how it would affect me.
As the funeral got started and the two pastors that were there to speak, started to, they began saying what a wonderful man he was. The more I heard this, the more upset I got. It didn't take more than 5 minutes before I got up and walked out with one of my sisters right behind me.
I broke down as soon as I got out of the room. I ran to the bathroom, where I completely lost it. Balling my eyes out, I hugged my sister.
I did not return to that service nor did I go to the grave site service. I did, however, go to the church where the rest of our family went to eat and congregate. I didn't stay long, but my sister's fiance said something to me that resonated with me. Something that I had never thought about.
His exact words to me were "You know, what really sucks is that you never got any kind of closure. No one ever confronted him and he never acknowledged he did anything wrong".
This is true. Now, I have to figure how to deal with it, after thinking I had for 34 years.
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