So, I was driving up north with two friends and my sister calls me.
"Hello, Sister." Says I.
"Hello." Says she. And, she proceeds to tell me that she has gotten into contact with her father and my whole world seems to darken and sink into the pit of my stomach.
Her father was the first man to hurt me. I was young... we imagine that I was around 3 or 4, but we are not sure. I can only go on how small I feel in my memory and the time-frame that my mother was married to/living with this man. The details are mostly unimportant in this setting, but he scarred my young brain in ways that I am *STILL* trying to undo. He did not penetrate me.
So, my little sister, whom I love and cherish, is calling me (her big sister) to share the joy and news of the fact that she has found her father and has gotten into contact with him. She went to meet him and his wife and they chatted. With this information I am torn between feeling like screaming, "Not on Beltaine!! Do not do this to me!! It's not fair!" and simply receiving the information graciously. After all, I know *EXACTLY* how it feels to actually find your father and get into contact with him - I did that very same thing (on my own) when I was 17. So, I swallow the lump in my throat and put a smile in my voice and tell her that I am happy for her, but I cannot talk now.
She understands, but needs to tell me a few more things.
She needs to tell me that he wanted her to tell me that he is sorry and he hopes that I can forgiv him. With these words, this news, I feel like I am falling down a black hole. The swirling emotions are too much for me to handle and I feel like I am going to black out... it WAS him!! He did do it!! I want to cry and scream and rage that I AM NOT A LIER.. This DID happen. He admitted it. It was Him!! It was Him!! We didn't know for certain who it was since my memory is so foggy and I was so young. And, since I've been hurt so many times after that and almost everytime no one believed me, I am starting to think that it's all a dream... it didn't happen and I made it up or something... starting to feel like I was insane. But, he admitted it!! He said it!!
And then a different sort of pain hit me. I can only explain it as "religious guilt." I had forgiven him years ago. I thought I had forgiven him years ago, but when she asked me to forgive him, I was caught and could not let the words fall. They were stuck in my heart and I forgot how to speak them. I could not forgive him.
I paused and she went on.
She asked me to pray for his wife. I asked why. She said that they had just lost their grandchild and she wanted me to pray for his wife to deal with the loss of the child.
I haven't prayed for the wife. I haven't forgiven him - verbally or mentally.
I find myself unable to pray for his wife. I want to be able to, but I don't think I am able to. It's a strange feeling. My heart reaches out to my sister in blood who has lost her child of a child and I want to light candles for her healing. But, my own scared hart keeps my hand from lighting that match.. keeps me from uttering the prayer.
I am not asking if it is wrong to feel like this because I understand that would be your opinion. I do want opinions, I suppose (why else would I write? I ask myself). I guess I am just sharing my story because it is heavy on my heart and I don't really know where else to go.
I haven't cried about this, but I feel tears at bay. Part of me doesn't feel like I need to cry - like I've cried all my tears for that little girl and now we are ready to move on. But, if the tears are there, threatening, then perhaps I am not ready to move on. I don't know.
The phone call didn't ruine my Beltaine celebrations. I told her that I couldn't talk about it now and I'd call her later. I still haven't called her; perhaps I will now.