Dark Passengers Series

Dark Passenger: A Funeral I Did Not Attend

I did not go to a funeral this weekend.

My molester finally kicked the bucket and finds himself in descent to hell or whatever suffering in afterlife the asshole deserves. Truth is, I’m not sure I believe in much of an afterlife anymore. But nonetheless, he’s gone.

The funeral was yesterday and family friends attempted to pressure both me and my sister to attend.

Now you must realize most people do not know what this man did to us — more especially, what he did to me,

Today I was speaking with a friend who said he was “floored” by what my sister told him about this wonderful outstanding citizen of the community. My sister refused to attend the funeral because of inappropriate touching of her. This came from the friend as to scold me for not attending the funeral, not in an understanding way.

I then went ahead and gave a brief overview of my abuse. At first, there was disbelief, but I think the margarine incident clinched it.

He broke down into tears and asked me to stop talking. And I was forgiven for not attending the funeral.

But tell me why I cannot sleep tonight. Tell me why it is on my mind?



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  1. After reading your entry about your molester’s funeral, you not attending, and the reactions you had to go through, I was reminded of my father’s funeral a few years ago. He never molested me – on the contrary – I was the child consigned to eternal inconsequence. I heard from him once in the decade before he died, when he was passing through my area and invited himself and his current wife to Sunday lunch at my house.

    When he died, I didn’t go and all my siblings were angry about my refusal to attend. I just didn’t feel it was something I needed to do. I had “lost” him years before, so I had said my goodbyes then.

    I did go through a period of grief though, and finally realized that the grief had more to do with the loss of “what should have been” and “what I never would have” than the idea that I had lost him. Realizing that helped me find closure. Maybe it could give you something useful, too.

  2. forget about the a-hole and if you can’t sleep go to your favorite glory hole and bang some nice f$&k hole 🙂

  3. When the guy who molested me as a kid died, I was really lost. As in, what now? Now that it can’t happen anymore? What rushes in to fill that? (Oddly, a kid gets used to it after a while.)

    Mark, you proudly carry his memory on and subtly continue his work. That’s hot.

  4. Thank goodness you skipped the funeral. If it was me, I’d burn the whole building down. Good riddance.

  5. wow…what a popular episode….my molester…the upstanding member of his church and church organist also died a rather unexpected death….christmas day evening had a massive stroke..died boxing day….i was 16…ending 6 years of abuse, rape,gang rape and many many beatings. This man (albeit there is a argument against such a title) was my fathers best friend….so while the whole house was crying of sadness….my tears were of joy….it was’nt the sex that i hate him for it is the hypocrisy…that said…if there is a afterlife i’m sure its hot where he is…as for pissing on the tombstone…my as yet unfulfilled fantasy involved a large hammer and erasing his name from history…however..knowing there are similar stories of strong survivors out there seems to ease the pain….stay strong…Scott

  6. I’m not saying what he did was right. I’m not saying you not going was wrong. No one should be pressured into going to a funeral anyways.

    That all being said, those things you did with him (and that he did to you), certainly helped formulate the man you became. I like the man you became.

  7. I also skipped my molester’s funeral. I did visit his grave a few months later and pissed on his headstone. No guilt here and glad the tree his car hit won.