Dirty Old Man

When I was about 7? 8? 9? our family used to occasionally visit my great aunt and uncle.  My grandmother's brother.  Therefore, my mother's uncle.  They were in their 70's.

Uncle John's favorite room was the sunroom in the back of the house. He would pick me up and put me in his lap.  The other's would be in the kitchen along with his wife.  But my sister and brothers were little and they used to run around the house.   Now that I think back, he took a lot of risks, but maybe that was half the thrill.

He would cradle me in his arm while his other shaking hand would come up and feel between my legs.  I didn't feel any arousal, but I knew he did and he would softly talk to me as he searched around. He never went inside.  When he heard someone coming, he would quickly remove his hand and straighten my dress.  My underwear would be stuck to one side and uncomfortable.  I think I even helped him keep it a secret, because I loved him as my great uncle and I knew he didn't want to get in trouble.  

I guess I got older and realized I didn't want him to do that anymore.  We were having a family reunion at our house and Uncle John and his wife were there as usual.   My mom was trying to get me to come outside, but I refused to leave the kitchen.  I told her then.  She just looked at me stunned and went outside alone.  I don't know if anything was said to him, but he never had the opportunity to do that to me again.   Mom never talked to me about it either though.  That was the end of the discussion.  I think I was more angry at her for not talking more about it.  

At another family reunion,  my female cousins and I were talking on a back porch.  We were older, around 13 or so.  Someone called Uncle John a kiddy diddler.  I found out that day that he had molested many of us.  But they were laughing at him.  

He was a respected member of a group down at U of Toronto, and when I worked downtown years later, I remember going to lunch with him.  I thought he might apologize for his behavior but nothing was said.  I didn't have the heart to bring it up.  I didn't feel close to him and he was so old.

His health failed and at 94 he was placed in a nursing home.  His brain was a sharp as ever - a very intelligent man, so I'm told - but he wanted no visitors.  He had lost control over his bowels and my mother told me he felt humiliated.  I thought that was fitting.  He took advantage of helpless children, and now he himself was helpless.  The humiliation had come full circle.

He died.  I went to the funeral but felt nothing.  His daughter was crying.  Did the same thing happen to her I wonder?  I actually just wanted to see him buried.  I didn't hate him, but I couldn't relate to all the wonderful things that were said about him at the service.

C'est la vie.  He had a problem.  It wasn't my fault.  It's done.  I'm fine, I think.

thinkingoutloud thinkingoutloud
51-55, F
2 Responses Mar 9, 2008

I dnt kno u , but Im very proud that u found a way to deal with this situation and for not leting it control your life . Congrats , ure a brave womam . =)

Its good to see you have dealt with this a best as you can.