The word family could have very deep but different meanings. Many have their own definitions of what family is. The thing about family is everyone is somehow closely knitted together. Brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers, and grandparents. Relationships and love is what most families build their foundation upon. I once strived for the perfect family, no, I believed I had the perfect family. All of my sons and daughters got along. We always went out for family picnics or gatherings. In this one moment everything was perfect but then that moment was gone.
I had received a call from a local pediatric center. They had my two little girls and wanted me to go pick them up. Confused, I drove up to the building and saw a tall man waiting outside the door. He had explained to me why my two girls were there and not at school. The man led me to a playroom where my girls were. When I opened the door they immediately started bawling.
I remember asking the man what they were doing there. He led me to an office and told me to sit down. The news he had delivered was devastating. The man told me that my girls had told their counselor they had been sexually molested. I couldn’t quite grasp the situation. My children who I loved dearly had just been assaulted, and not by a stranger, but my own son. Their older brother who they looked up to, the one man that was supposed to protect them when the parents couldn’t. I couldn’t understand what I was feeling. Dozens of emotions had hit me all at the same time. To describe it, it felt like someone had taken a knife and shattered my heart.
On the drive home my two girls cried the whole way. I still couldn’t believe what was going on. I felt betrayed, disappointed, and disgusted. My son molested my daughters. How was I to take that all in at once? I loved all of my children equally and I didn’t know what I had done to deserve this. My two beautiful girls who I had sworn to protect and love lived in fear, and felt helpless for four years in their own home. A home was a place to feel secured and loved. For those four years I didn’t even notice what was going on.
When child services came to do a house visit. It seemed as if they expected me to take sides. I didn’t know what to believe anymore. I felt helpless and hurt. My two girls were my own flesh and blood but so was my son. I often thought that just maybe it would have been easier to handle if they had been assaulted by someone other than their brother but even I knew it still wouldn’t change the amount of pain we would have to go through. They were my children and I was their mother. My mind knew that it was wrong but my heart thought otherwise. My husband and I decided to treat the three of them the same. However, my son had to leave the house. We didn’t know what he was capable of in the future, even though he was my son, and I loved him dearly. It still wouldn’t change what he had already done.
Over the years I let time heal the wounds. I decided to wait for my two girls to open up to me and eventually they did. Though that day many tears were shed, it had strengthened our bond. I told them that it was up to them to decide whether or not they could forgive their brother and I would not blame them if they couldn’t. It got a lot better for my family. My two girls began asking about their brother. They decided they were ready to go meet him.