Seeing Him Again
My dad, who went with me on this trip, didn't know that my grandfather was my motivation to go. Both my parents thought I just wanted to "see how my dad grew up."
Yesterday, I walked into my grandfather's store. I saw him sitting on the couch. He didn't look at me. He didn't say a word. My grandmother said hello, and my dad and my grandmother began to talk. The entire time, I stared at my grandfather. He said nothing.
My grandfather has diabetes. He doesn't take care of it at all. He eats tons of candy and sugar. He's now very overweight. He lost his right leg, and his left leg is in a cast to try to stop bacteria from forcing doctors to amputate that leg, too. He can't sit up without help. He can barely walk. I feel like a terrible, terrible person for saying this, but watching him try to walk past me made me smile a little. It confirmed that he can never hurt another child. Again, I'm sorry for saying that.
The other part of the trip was seeing the house where my dad grew up, and where I was raped. My grandmother is basically a hoarder. You can't see the floor. There are also cockroaches everywhere. My dad was trying to find some of his books in his room. I found the room where my rape happened. The room was filled with more memories than my grandfather. He didn't look like he did years ago. The room looked similar, just older, and emptier.
Even though my grandfather never said a word to me and never looked me (his first grandchild!) after not seeing me for more than a decade, no one suspected a thing. He used to beat my father, aunt, and grandmother every day. My father says that he's the product of my grandmother's date rape by my grandfather. Even though my grandfather didn't sexually abuse my aunt to my knowledge, no one would rule that out of his character. Everyone is used to his dysfunction. Everyone thinks it's a blessing when he's quiet.
There are two things that disgusted me. First, I was disgusted by the fact that by his bed (he sleeps in a separate bed from my grandmother), there are three pictures of me as a child on the wall. There aren't any pictures of my three siblings up there (two sisters and a brother). There aren't pictures of my dad or aunt by his bed. They're just pictures of me. It creeps me out to think that he goes to bed staring at those.
The other thing that disgusted me is that he didn't have the dignity to look me in the eye. I was the one who was raped. I'm the one who gets to avoid eye contact, not him.
Anyway, I'm back home now, out of state. I'll never have to see him again. He'll be dead within the year, or sooner if he keeps eating the way that he does. I just want to get this all out on here because I don't know who else to tell about why I went.