When my father's obituary was in our local paper, it was short, to the point of almost being meaningless...for it did not show the progression of his children's lives, who they married and their children. It simply had our first names. Now, I have no idea who gave this information to be published or why it was so condensed...but its odd nature struck me.
Perhaps what made it seem even odder, is that my mother sent me the family tree info pack, that held the details of the ripples of their lives together...about a week and a half after he died.
The juxtaposition between his public obit and the real family tree sat with me...
Again, no knowing the intention, whether it was a thoughtful and calculated slim obit or was it just subconscious quick giving the bare details....of his life, it just seemed odd.
Like wanting to say who his is, but not saying saying who he was, or who was connected to him...what are the real numbers, and names and lives. The briefness of it cancelled much of his life...the lives of his children and their children's lives. It didn't show who he left behind.
That is what strikes me the most. He left behind a pile of kids, grandkids and great-grand kids. He was the top....he 'touched' many lives in ways again, we don't want to write about...not to even mention the sheer numbers.
I can see the quandary the person who was left with the task to write the obit was left in. Who do we connect with this man? How much do we write and how? If it had been me, I would have put the whole complete obit.
What I know is that he had 15 children, one son died (a still birth). Most of us married, some have divorced and remarried, one experienced a death of a spouse and remarried. We have had children and their children have had children. We have married spouses with children.
He had 49 grand-children and 12 great-grand children.
Up until 8 years ago...he was dad and grandpa to all of these numbers. He was in their lives...and recently he was still part of many, but not all.
His influence lives within the numbers he left behind. All were touched, by even not being touched All were affected...even if neglected. All carry with them the vestiges of his character. He lives on in all of us...
How each of us allowed him into our worlds...shows more about us than him.
While it was greatly disturbing to know my father was a pedophile, it was far more tragic to realize I didn't know...that the trauma was not recorded in my mind. That my life was lived awkward at best due to this one missing link.
I am grateful beyond grateful, that his truth didn't go to the grave with him.
I am a complete person knowing that I was abused. I made sense, my life made sense, the religion made sense, my mother made sense, the siblings made sense...all of it matched my experience, once I had the whole picture.
Without knowing the complete picture, you get left with the obituary in the paper, a surface quick overview of first names.
I for one, needed to know the details so I made sense. I needed to know why I couldn't feel close to him and why I carried resentment towards her (my mother)...why I had such rage inside....all the why questions were answered when I knew who he was.
We are directly grown from our experiences with our parents.
Being at the top of the pile, we will have more saturated strong influence, but all were touched and affected. The younger ones get a milder dose...but even at its weakest strength, its strength will change your life.
Doing a rough estimate there were 75 children whose lives he was in contact with....not counting the spouses. And the spouses had to deal with the awkwardness of our emotional damage....so they certainly should be included. Say, roughly another 10, plus his wife. That is 86...out of the gate. Oh, and let us not forget his sister and his brother, now we are closer to 90 folks. And now we could canvas the neighborhood where he lived for roughly 35 years....the numbers are going way over 100...for each family home in our neighborhood had large families near 10 each...3 families that I know were affected.
His life wasn't a simple obituary....
It is my hope that peace is found in knowing he did abuse. In knowing you are not mental or that your story wasn't believed (even if the parents did nothing). It isn't about the reaction to your story, it is about that it did happen.
You can find your power in claiming this.
My real life began when I fully accepted that I was abused. I could then begin to live my truth and to love all of me. I love the parts of me that were damaged. I love who it made me to be.
The greatest thing all of his victims can do is to learn to love ourselves again. To put our lives in first place. To take back what he took in our childhood. Our love, our trust and our faith in our selves.
I decided early on that his abuse wasn't going to define me...but rather I was going to re-define myself. I was going to go towards love, peace and joy.
Love of me. Joy in me...and what brings me peace.
I am but one small name in his obituary, but I too have a legacy to leave behind.
Mine will be, there is a cure to being abused and that is to take back your power.
To take back your life and break the silence...to turn away from what the dysfunctional family wants and desires and turn inwards to the wounded child inside.
Taking care of my wounded self; I was a parent to me.
I can create a new family tree!
