"Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep..."

For most of my life, the only clear memory of my grandfather's incest was what occurred when I was 13 years old.  I was lying next to my grandfather on the living room floor in the semi-dark of the early evening.  We were alone in the room and the house was quiet.  My grandfather was fondling my exposed breasts and I was being careful not to make a sound.  Then, he whispered in my ear "you are going to hate me for this someday."  I looked up at his face and answered, "why, grandpa?"  He never answered.



I had no idea that this occurrence was anything more than a one time thing.  I didn't understand his actions or the words he spoke and why he never answered my question.  Many years later, I realized that what happened on that night in my 13th year was, in fact, the last time he molested me and that he had incested me since I was 2 weeks old.  My mind, completely unable to consciously deal with the horror inflicted on me, had hidden the truth in its deepest recesses. It was 35 years before the repressed memories began to surface.