My Grandpa Died Twice — And It’s My Aunt’s Fault!

Disclaimer: This article focuses on sexual abuse and implies this case was false. That doesn’t mean I don’t take sexual abuse seriously. I believe if the abuse allegations are true, the abuser should face legal charges and deserves the public humiliation.

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My grandpa died when I was 3. I’ve been told he was my favorite person and he adored me. He was good to me and did his best to protect me from my abusive mother.

When I was 3, he had a fatal heart attack on Easter morning. Grandma found him in the garden. There was nothing they could do as the coroner said he died several hours earlier.

Grandma couldn’t believe her husband of 26 years was dead. She was only 51-years-old. She had custody of me, so the three of us became two.

Two years later, my aunt asked grandma to move in with her because her daughter, Marsha, was sick. She needed help to take care of her, so we moved in with her.

You can read my story on Marsha here.

My Aunt Faced Horrific Loss

My cousin had a rare genetic condition and lost her battle in 1984. Linda had a tough time moving forward after her daughter died. Two years before Marsha’s death, her son, age 4, died of the same disease. She lost two children in two years. That would take a toll on anyone’s mental health.

Five years after Marsha died, grandma and I were living in our house again. I came home from school one day, and my aunt was in the kitchen having a heated conversation with grandma. That was unusual, as they typically got along well.

I couldn’t make out any of their conversation until my grandma tells her to get out of her house and never come back. I was only 12, but I couldn’t imagine what they could have said to each other to sever their relationship for good.

I pestered grandma for days what happened between her and my aunt. She stayed silent, which was not unusual for her. She said she had to pray about the situation before telling anyone what happened. But she will tell me when she figures out how to handle it.

My Aunt Killed My Grandpa Again

Finally, after a month, grandma barged into my bedroom and asked if we could talk. She sat down, exhaled loudly and said, “Lucy (changed name) said grandpa raped her when she was a little girl. She said he threatened to kill her. I don’t want to believe her, but what if she was right? I don’t think I knew him at all after nearly 30 years of marriage.”

I told her maybe it didn’t happen. See, Lucy has been in and out of mental institutions since her daughter’s death. She made up many stories of neighbors raping her. It was rational to assume this story could be a tall tale, too. But grandma wasn’t so sure.

She had just moved past his death. She would talk about him often and smile at her heartwarming memories. Now, she had to come to terms with the news that he could have molested their daughter.

She stopped going to his gravesite. She took down all the pictures of him around the house. We never spoke about him anymore. It was as if he died all over again.

Lucy’s Sister Doesn’t Believe Her Story

One Christmas, my mother visited us for the holidays. I told her about her sister Lucy’s claim about their dad. My mother blew up. They shared a bed growing up. She told me grandpa never came into their room because he deemed it inappropriate.

My mother tried to talk to her mother about it. Grandma refused to talk. She broke down crying. She said he was everything to her and she cannot believe he would violate Lucy.

Before my mother went home, she told me not to believe those stories about grandpa. She tells me, “He was a good man.”

Slowly, grandma’s smile came back. She still didn’t want any communication with Lucy. She never spoke about the incident ever again. Before she died, she spent weeks telling me stories about her courtship with my grandpa in the 40s. It was great hearing about their love story again.

I cannot say Lucy’s story was not true. It seems unlikely, but you never know. My grandpa didn’t own a gun, and she claimed he pointed it at her. It just hurts that her confession about the abuse forced my grandma to grieve for her husband twice.

It’s sad that in my family, her confession is what everyone associated with his memory. Grandpa never drank alcohol. He was adamantly against drugs. He was hard on his kids, but he did it to motivate them to achieve their dreams. He was a good father, an excellent provider, and a wonderful grandfather.

Decades later, most of the family doesn’t believe the story. Lucy died several years ago. Before she died, she admitted to lying about many things, but never fessed up to lying about grandpa’s sexual abuse.

Death is hard enough to process, but to add sexual abuse to the mix, it made the grieving process for my grandma very complicated. Sexual abuse is a serious matter, and the abuser should face legal ramifications. But what about those who lie about abuse? What should happen to them?

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Originally posted on Medium.