My husband was a welder and when we were first married he worked at the shipyards where he got hurt. One night, while working in the dark, he ran into a steel plate, hit his head, and was knocked unconscious. He sustained serious neck injuries and six months later his neck became very painful and shook uncontrollably. The diagnosis was torticollis of the neck. He was in so much pain that he would try anything the doctors suggested; such as shock treatments, being injected with typhoid fever, endless experimental drugs, brain surgery and many other medical interventions.
When he was 45 years old he was told by a doctor that he only had five years to live. He wanted to be sure his young family would be taken care of so he bought all the life insurance he could get.
In the meantime, he quit the shipyards and opened his own welding shop. My youngest son loved welding and became very good at it. My oldest son went to college and graduated as a geologist. Eventually, though, they both worked at the welding shop. They fought constantly. It was driving my husband nuts. He got up one morning and was acting like a crazy man. He said he was going to the shop and fire one of them, he didn't know which. I was scared and devastated. I begged and pleaded with him but I could not reason with him. He came home later and told me he had fired the older son. I was surprised that he hadn't fired the youngest son. He had always nagged him and verbally abused him.
A few weeks later my husband asked me for a tape recorder. He said he wanted to make a tape for his oldest son. I helped him get it ready and left the room. A short time later when I looked in on him, he was holding the tape recorder and crying. Later, I found out he had said that he had to fire the oldest boy because the younger son held something over him. The older son asked if it was business and my husband said, 'No, personal.'
Our son asked, 'What was it Pop, did you have an affair?'
'Much worse,' my husband answered.
Years later, he went to his deathbed carrying the secret. The thought that it might be incest, child pornography or any of these other horrors never crossed my mind.
My two sons are estranged. I've tried many times since 1974 to talk to my sons, to get them to at least talk to one another, but to no avail. The younger boy was willing but the older one said, 'No way.' It hurt me so bad for so long I thought I would go crazy. One night I said to God in my prayers, 'God, I can't handle this, you take over.'
In 1967, my husband had brain surgery to stop the pain and shaking in his neck. They went down through the brain to sever the nerves that were causing the pain. It helped but he was in the hospital for a long time.
A few years later he had a heart attack and finally had open-heart surgery. There were complications. During the surgery he went without oxygen for four minutes. They said because he had brain surgery, his brain became swollen and he had edema of the brain. He was coma-like for 12 days. When he came out of it he was like a vegetable, didn't know any of us. He was helpless, couldn't feed himself, go to the bathroom or walk. After months of physical therapy he was able to walk and could pick up food with his hand. His memory was partially blocked. This deficit impaired his whole left side. He never regained all of his memory. I took him home and took care of him.
My daughter stopped by one day, which was not unusual, as she lived down the street. She asked if she could talk to me. She said she had something to tell me so we went outside and sat on the swing in the back yard. She told me her father had sexually abused her. I was shocked, stunned, sad, and couldn't believe what I was hearing. She also said, 'You and grandma also abused me.'
I started crying and thought, 'Where was I?' I had no memory of any of this happening. I finally said to her, 'It's not that I don't believe you, it's just that I can't remember.' But I was so naive when I got married right out of High School. I thought we were a normal, happy family and this accusation shocked me to the roots. I thought and thought but could not remember a thing. I do remember often saying when the kids were little that life seemed to good to be true.
Later she told me that I had abused all three of her children. I couldn't believe that I had done that, as I love those children like my own. I was heartsick and kept praying it was not true. She gave me a booklet from Los Angeles Women's Task Force on Ritual Abuse, and wouldn't let me see her children anymore. I could hardly function. I was heartsick, like in a trance.
As my daughter told me more about the abuse, I tried so hard to remember, but couldn't. In going over her allegations and remembering her childhood, I thought there were times the abuse could have happened. But she appeared to be a normal, happy little girl. She was such a good little girl, obedient, loving and just a little angel.
Sometime in the late 80's my daughter told me her father had sexually molested her from the time she was a baby. After Sue continued to tell me more, I began to believe her and that this really happened. I could hardly stand to look at my husband or take care of him any longer but he was a sick old, helpless man so I continued to care for him, every second hating him. But no matter what happened, he never complained.
Shortly after this she came to confront her father. She told him he had sexually abused her. He had a very hard, angry look as he looked at me and said, 'Your daughter is crazy.' She left and we didn't see her for a very long time. I would call but she wouldn't answer the phone or talk to me.
My husband continued to be a very sick man and had to be taken care of. From then on, I only spoke to him when I had to. To think he had abused our daughter made me hate him. I had loved him for over 50 years. Now I couldn't even let him touch me at night. If he happened to put his leg or arm across me, I'd kick him.
After my daughter's two accidents that both happened on April 12th, two years apart, my daughter disappeared. I didn't know where she was. I was so afraid for her. She had not spoken to me for many months. It was like losing my arm. We were, I thought, so close and now she wanted nothing to do with me. I felt like it was a dream or a terrible nightmare that I'd wake up from in the morning and it wouldn't be true. I was so worried about her. Without talking and praying to God, I never would have gotten through that separation from her.
I felt like I was going crazy, so I went to a therapist. The therapist did not seem to be helping me. After Sue fled from California, she called me and told me she was running for her life. One day I told my therapist that I had sent Sue money to help her write the book she explained she was needing to write to stay alive. The therapist surprised me when she said emphatically, 'Don't give her any more money.'
I told this therapist, 'God told me to help my daughter.' That's when I stopped going to her. Sue was my daughter and my heart said to help her. In spite of the abuse allegations, her father kept saying to me, 'Help her, Honey. Help her.'
I continued caring for my husband; he was helpless and couldn't do anything for himself. I gritted my teeth and helped him, all the while hating him. He never mentioned the abuse again.
I got a call one day from my daughter. I was elated to hear from her. She was in Hawaii and she wanted me to know that she was going to be hit by this hurricane and didn't know what would happen to her. Later on the news, they showed the island of Kauai damage from Hurricane Inniki. It was in ruins. I tried to call her but all lines of communication were down. Finally after a few days, she called to say she was alright, but lost everything she had.
When she came back to the states she called and told me more about her abuse. I was so confused but even though I could not remember anything, I began to believe it was all true. She moved from place to place to stay alive and finally called and said she was safe, but wouldn't tell me where she was. I felt so relieved that she was safe and getting help.
Then her teenage daughter started having problems. Without any apparent reason, she tried to commit suicide three separate times. She is such a sweet, loving girl. I could hardly let myself think of her being sexually abused. And if I had abused her, I shouldn't be allowed to live. We talked but my granddaughter couldn't seem to tell me why she had made those attempts. She finally decided to go live with her mother. She had only three months of school here in California until she graduated. We thought she could finish her school there. She was okay for awhile with her mother and then she started being dysfunctional and finally became catatonic. My daughter was frantic. She couldn't handle her, as Sue is much smaller in stature and not as physically strong as my granddaughter is. She called and told me she was taking her to the hospital. She didn't know what else to do.
My granddaughter was in the hospital a very short time when somehow she was able to call her father. She told him she was being held against her will and would he please come get her. He did fly there and get her. But, instead of taking her to their home where she thought she would be going, he explained to her that she
