A Letter To My Grandfather - Possible Triggers?

[TiredOfItAll]

Are you looking up at me form *? Is there a special place there for People Like you? Are you miserable from causing all the pain you have caused? Is there really an afterlife to pay for all your sins? Or are you rotting in the ground without a thought as to what you have done to the people who loved you? Did you get off easy?

I know you suffered in your final days, this used to hurt me but now it gives me peace. I hope you were filled with fear while you were drowning in your own, self inflicted, body fluids. The day before you died you thought you were the devil and talked in a satanic voice, you were dying.  Your brain was deprived of the oxygen you needed to be normal.  Were you knocking on heavens door and God told you all the reasons you were not getting in?

While laying there unconscious, your organs shutting down, did you wallow in the  incredible nightmare you created in your life? Did you reflect on the many accomplishments or did you see a slide show of the innocent faces you manipulated?  Were you proud?  Was the power and sexual gratification worth all the damage you caused?

Almost 30 years after your death, the compensation of your moral compass is still affecting the children you used for voluptuary satisfaction.  These tiny innocent lives you were trusted to protect and love, taking advantage of the helplessness of their nature and the complete acceptance of the many questionable deviant situations you subjected  them too.

Can you see me?  Do you feel my pain? Do you know I have figured out all of your deception? I am remembering the lies you skillfully propitiated.  I am coming out of the fog of your righteousness and beginning to heal the unjust memories that never seemed to materialize or emerge.

My memories are painful because I believed you to be a good person.  Fooled, really. Amazed at how competent you were. You had two personalities playing one against the other, conniving and convincing everyone you were not the evil twin who came out at night, after hours of drinking, showing up at a little girls bedside.  Taking more of the innocence away each time you touched and played your secret games, rewarding me for harpocracy. 

Giving me patronizing looks in hopes i will keep my silence about the evil that lurked in the middle of the night, causing nightmares and the impossibility of a normal life.  Paying me off for my servitude to you so you can justify the many horrors you must live with deep in your mind.  Making me keep yet another secret on your behalf. 

Secrets, oh how you loved secrets! Proof of my love for you that you undeniably needed to survive another day. A tortiled love that was more than it should be breaking barriers of trust that I will never fully understand. Shaping my mind for failure because of the harmful way you taught me to experience pedophilia as an absolute right of passage.

In some demonic way, I hope you know this from the depths of * to which you must occupy, that I know your secrets and I am not keeping them secret anymore.  Even in your death, to which you were buried with respect, you cannot hide from vile acts you committed on too many children.  Your grave, once a place where I cried, is now a place of contempt.

This flag, you earned in servitude to your country, draped over your casket, no longer symbolizes all that I lost but reminds me of the demise of my childhood and the evil imposed on me most of my life. I no longer want to be reminded of the horrors that possessed my room at night forcing me to keep secrets on your behalf.   

I want you to know my heart is broken. Hurt to the core of my soul.  I am mending it from the inside out, picking up the pieces of a past that ambushes the darkest spots in my mind. Forcing myself to come to terms with the reality that I was sexually abused by you over and over again imposing on me a fear I never knew I had.  That fear is not going to take over my life anymore, instead I will use it as a tool to strengthen me.

In the end, I will come out of this stronger than I was before. Healing, stitching up my bleeding heart, mending my soul. Someday I will be able to talk about you without crying, think of you without anxiety, sleep without nightmares, dream without violence, look at myself without discuss, feel without hate, give without anger, love without fear,  and exist without pain.