We ended up going to live with my grandparents when I was ten. My mother had killed my father (another future blog) and we were taken by my grandparents. My grandpa was actually my step grandfather but he had been in the family since before I was born so to us, he was the real deal.
Problem was he was a creep, but I did not know it then. Since then I have remembered that he molested me way before then. When I was about 4 our family moved in with my grandparents for a while. We were very poor, dad would not work, he was abusive, alcoholic and used drugs. The horrible things he did to my mother are things you only see on TV.
My grandfather took huge pride in the yard, he mowed it to perfection and no one was allowed to touch his mower but him, now I do remember him letting me ride on his lap and steer. I also vaguely remember the first time he touched me, only four years old, I remember the lawnmower being under the carport, and us sitting on it, me in his lap.
I remember him putting a finger inside of me, at only four years old and tellng me not to tell anyone. Of course, I did not, I am not sure why, I guess at taht age I did not even know what he was doing was wrong. Years later after talking to my mother about this turns out he use to hit on her and be really mean to her as well. Which was odd because everyone *thought* he was the most amazing caring man. No one realized there was this other side to him.
He was 10 yrs younger than my grandma, and she was really young too because she had my dad at 16, When I went to live with them at 10 my grandma was only 49 and my grandpa was 39. She had a lot of heath problems and was not able to give him the attention he needed I guess.
I look at myself now, 37, and i try to imagine 2 years from now having 3 GRANDKIDS come and live with me. I cannot really wrap my head aroudn it but it was no excuse for what he did. AFter we came to live with him when I was ten, me and my brothers, this man abused me everyday of my life 4, 5, 6 times a day.
I got so fat, because no matter what, you could have just killed someone and if you were at the kitchen table eating, you were safe, granny would not let anything or anyone interrupt, so I ate, and I ate and I ate, hoping it would keep me safe from him telling me he needed me to go to the store with him, or out to the shed with him, or into the bedroom because he needed to talk to me.
Looking back now, I just don't understand how my grandma didn't know something was wrong...