LIFE LESSONS THAT SHOULD NEVER BE LEARNED
A Heart Unmoved: Why I Didn’t Cry When My Father Died
The lingering hardship of trying to forgive the unforgivable
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The judge’s gavel hit with a bang.
My father stood up as he was being handcuffed, now guilty of four counts of felonious sexual assault with a minor under the age of twelve, and glanced back at my mother and me. My mom, a small, frail woman, suddenly felt like a ton of bricks as her body slumped into mine.
As he was escorted from the courtroom and into the depths of a prison process that I’d only seen in movies, I looked down at my mom and thought, “Now what?”
We were alone.
Up until a week before the verdict, my father had maintained his innocence. He pleaded with us that there was no way he could do such monstrous things, let alone to a young relative from my mother’s side of the family.
Even as our extended families cut contact with us — a hell my mother would sadly endure for years later — he remained steadfast that this was all just a mistake.
