Yesterday was Memorial Day

It seems fitting that our first visit with our son since all of this happened was Memorial Day 2007. It was memorial alright. I was glad for the chance to see him and to tell him that all was not fine at home. There was no remorse on his face. I was really looking for that. He didn't even try to say anything close to "I'm sorry", not that it would have made a difference. But at least I would have had a sign of hope. I saw none. I don't suppose that there is no hope however, I am just saying that it will take a lot longer to get there. He sort of acted like everything was going to be OK, that he just had to take what was coming and it would all be over.

I saw that flicker of hope for him go out when his Dad said that he would never live at home again. He told him that his life as he knew it was gone, that he had destroyed that life and it was no more. That is when his eyes glassed over, but he never shed a tear. That is the moment I knew that every time I had seen him cry before was some kind of manipulation. Because if there ever was a time to cry, it would have been then.

I left there a mere 20 minutes into the visit, very, very angry. I felt a rage inside of me that I had never felt before. My husband could sense that all was not well. I let him have it. Then quickly apologized, because I was not mad at him. A little frustrated, yes, but not angry at my husband. I just wish he could say what needs to be said. It means something coming from his father. It doesn't mean anything coming from me. I was glad that I was there to say something, because otherwise it would have gone unsaid. And it needs to be understood by him what he has done and the consequences of it.

This chapter in my life just seems to keep getting longer, the more I look, the more I find that I don't want to find. I have to change what is happening around me and I really don't know how else to do it except talk about it. I need for people to understand that it can happen to anyone if they are not careful. We need to not bury our heads in the sand and act like it somebody else's problem. It is every one's problem.

I have talked to a lot of people in my life and most people have either been related to, or personally know someone who has been sexually abused. This kind of thing happens every few seconds in the US and we all just keep acting like it is not our problem. We have sympathy, empathy even, but no solutions. And some of us are ashamed and embarrassed to the point of not telling. And then there are those of us who do tell, and nothing ever comes of it. It is just swept under the rug, so no one has to deal with it except the survivors. There are those of us who do tell and we are hoping for justice, for due process. But what ends up happening is that the criminals get more help, more chances for a normal life than those of us who have endured the abuse. Help is free to those who do the crime, where is the free, unfailing help for survivors? Who needs it the most? Why is it even a question?

When is enough enough? How many peoples lives have to be devastated by this disease before we really take action and start treating it like it is, and not like what we think it should be?