May and June. Mother’s Day and Father’s Day. Ahhh, the roller coaster of emotions these two months evoke for victims of abuse and neglect by the two people they depended on for their survival.

The greatest joys of my life have always been my husband, kids and grandkids. I know the love that I as Mom and Mamaw have shown them is appreciated and reciprocated. I also believe they realize that the man they call Dad and Papaw, the man I was Blessed to spend a lifetime with, is the epitome of a kind, thoughtful, loving dad.

When I read the loving accolades to moms and dads on Facebook, it is my sincere hope that our offspring feel that same love and admiration for us. Being human, we have been far from perfect parents, but we have dedicated our lives to trying to raise Christian, happy, well-adjusted people. We have always strived to make theirs a peaceful world, with fun-filled memories.

And then, there are parents like mine. I unapologetically will not post their pictures or say what great folks they were.

When I tell my story about a father who incessantly terrorized his children, the question that I am often asked is “Where was your mother?” She was right there with us. She witnessed her children’s abuse. She heard our cries for help. I make no excuses for her neglect, but I now see why she did not step up to her duties to protect us from the monster. Her spirit was broken early into their 30+ year marriage. Like all of us who lived within the prison walls of his black hole of torture, she walked a thin emotional and physical survival line. As a mother who would take a bullet for my loved ones, it’s hard to forgive her for not reporting him when he shot my sister in the head. Had she taken the correct, motherly actions at that time, or better still long before then, he would have gone to prison right then. Instead she protected him. I get it. She was scared. He had just proven he would kill anyone who dared challenge his authority. But she was our only mom. She was the only other adult in that horror house. And she failed us. I have since forgiven her, but will never excuse her negligent submission that cost her children their emotional lives, that left deep wounds within their forming minds.

While I feel a sad loss for the mother who never was, I feel complete repulsion for the demon who I am ashamed to call my father. The very person whose responsibility it was to protect us seemed to derive his greatest pleasure from harming his innocent, helpless young children.

A big part of my Catholic grade school’s daily Theology lesson stressed the adherence to the fourth commandment, “Thou shalt honor thy father and thy mother.” I am truly thankful that most parents are showered with the well-deserved admiration and honor that is bestowed upon them by their daughters and sons. But for those of us who will forever mourn the loveless holes our moms and dads left in our hearts and minds, May and June evoke a cascade of emotions. Honor and respect are undeserved because they were not earned. Quite the opposite.

I am grateful beyond words that my husband and I have broken the cycle of abuse within our own family. That knowledge is our greatest mother’s and father’s day gifts, for ourselves, our children, grandchildren and the many generations that follow.

Thank You, Lord. Please grant that same mercy to all child abuse victims and survivors. Amen.