From Blogger: Unforgiven

Originally Published on Blogger:  08 May 2013

Yesterday, I had to laugh.

Much to my surprise, I had a friend request on Facebook; surprising because I very rarely get them and even more rarely ever post. The request was from my uncle, whom I haven’t heard from long before even my mother died. It’s got to be going on over 15 years, if not 20.  I don’t contact my family for good reason.

Anyhow, my mirth quickly turned to disgust. You see, this particular uncle, the brother of my mother, is a convicted pedophile. Not only has he been convicted in the States, but he’s not been charged with the molestation of his daughter, possibly my own mother and my sister!

Lets set the way back machine, shall we?

My maternal grandmother, Nana, was a lot of things to us.  Matriarch of the family, an iron fist in a velvet glove, cunning, proper, a mother, a grandmother, a dutiful daughter when needed.  But above all, she was quite, unequivocally, undisputed evil.  She was manipulative to the core in achieving her own aims;  often wealth or power or both.  As such, the family was never shown in a bad light. Granted, most of the people in our neighborhood knew she was a force to be reckoned with, so we were always shown respect.  I think a lot of that was due to my grandfather; oh he’s a great person, that I’ll get to another time.  And she manipulated us. Yes, her own flesh and blood were just as much in the sights as anyone else. You did what she wanted, when she wanted, or you faced the consequences.

The family had its share of issues as well. For one, I realized that ever generation had a child molester. For my brother and I, several relatives and guys in the neighborhood  it was one of her brothers.  For the girls, it was her son. Lucky grandmother.

So it came to be that he made his move on my sister when she was young.  When sis had the courage to tell our mother, mom was unable to do anything about it.  She confronted my grandmother with the details and, as far as I’m told, she was told to drop it… Or else.  As our mother was financially dependent on the money from our grandparents, mom had to shut up and keep it quiet.  After my grandmother died, it was too late.  My poor sis was hurt by the inaction, and this uncle had moved away.  Granted, he could have been dragged in, but she didn’t really think of that.

Mom did convict my great uncle though because our grandmother was already dead when I told mom, and the statute of limitations hadn’t run out.

So how do I know these details?

She told me before she died. Mom and I had lots of time and I needed to hear her stories.  Not to judge, just to listen.  Forgiveness would have to come from another, not me.  I once idolized my grandmother; as I was her favorite why wouldn’t I?  After the confessions of my mother, that view changed.  My mother walked away from her brother, wanted nothing to do with him.  She fought with her other brothers about him.  She wouldn’t give forgiveness either.  Not after what he did to her daughter.

I wish my sis had the justice that she longs for.  Now that this scumbag is out of prison, and a born-again Christian to boot, the family have embraced him like a prodigal son.  Yet another reason I despise them.  No-one believed my sis and ostracized her for the accusations.  I believed her.  And mom did too.  But she was forced to do nothing.  I believed my sis because that’s what brothers do, because I know the history of this family and because it happened to me. I believed her because my sis believes me.  Maybe someday she’ll get her due and watch that miserable bastard take his last breath before he departs to hell.  Maybe.

So here I am with this friend request, and seething mad.  Naturally I refuse it and furthermore tell Facebook that I don’t know him, so I can’t get anymore requests.  Then I turn around and write to my sis about it.  Scathing words about him and a little boost of spirit for her. She wrote me back with love and thanks, that I made her smile more than she has in a long time.  And I smiled too.

Because that’s what brothers and sisters do.