Dear little one,
I wish I could wrap my arms around you right now and give you the biggest hug. Your world has just been turned upside down, and you’re feeling lost and scared. You’ve been violated in ways that no child should ever have to endure, and it’s happened more than once. I know you don’t understand that what’s happened to you is wrong—how could you? You’ve come from a world that felt safe, and now everything has changed.
I remember the day it all began; you came home looking confused and terrified. It breaks my heart to know you felt you couldn’t share this with anyone, especially your parents. No child should have to shoulder such a heavy burden alone. I can’t help but feel anger towards our mother for not being there when you needed her the most.
There must have been a reason you felt like you couldn’t tell her about the trauma. If I were a mother and my child was in distress, I would want them to feel safe enough to talk to me. That day marked the start of a difficult path for you, filled with confusion and pain. You lay awake that night, replaying what happened and questioning everything. The “doctor” who examined you in that dark cellar—what kind of a doctor threatens a child? It’s no wonder you were left bewildered and frightened.
You were too young to grasp the concept of what had happened, but your body knew something was wrong. The discomfort you felt was a clear sign that this was not normal, and yet you had no one to turn to for help. I wish I could sit with you, comforting you and assuring you that it wasn’t your fault. I want so badly to be the mom you needed but didn’t have.
Since you couldn’t express your pain, it manifested in ways that were hard for anyone to understand. I wish I could make our mother see that your behavior was a cry for help, rather than a reason for punishment. And just when you thought things couldn’t get worse, someone else—someone who was supposed to protect you—betrayed your trust again.
Your innocence was shattered, and I wish I could tell you that not all fathers are like that. I wish you could have known that you deserved so much better. At 12, while your classmates were caught up in typical childhood activities, you were desperately seeking answers to questions that were left unspoken. In a world where sex was taboo, you turned to books for information, but I’m so sorry you didn’t have access to healthy education.
Little one, if only someone had been there to tell you these things. Although I’m decades too late, I need you to hear this: You are not to blame. You are incredibly brave. As a mother now, I can see how strong you were to keep moving forward despite everything. I’m hugging you tightly right now, whispering, “It will be okay, my love,” because you needed that reassurance back then.
I apologize for those who can’t offer you the comfort you deserve. Our mother should be here, acknowledging her blindness to what was happening right under her nose. I’m proud of you for standing strong and seeking help when you needed it. You’ve built a beautiful family, despite the heartbreak of your son facing similar struggles. At least he felt comfortable enough to confide in you, and you handled it with grace.
I hope these words help you heal and release the weight of the past. I’ve tried to give you some of what you should have heard long ago. It may never be enough, but I’m here, and I’m sorry.