didithappen
Bronze Member
I was young, I don't know how much, but my granddads bed was a base, with mattress, and I struggled to get in/up. If that makes sense.
Sorry, I did not intend my blog on here to become this, but I feel I need to speak about it.
I remember making the climb to bed and it was something like this -
"no, to get in to bed you have to take off your clothes, go on, undress."
"but...."
"that is the rules, if you want to be with granddad, you have to get in to bed, and bed means no clothes, I thought you were a big boy".
That is one of my earliest memories, then I remember me with him and my sister, she was sat on his lap, and I remember feeling upset. I also remember "it is your sisters turn, it is time you were a man and learned when to share".
Why was I upset?
I also remember
"why is your's so much bigger?"
"one day yours will be this size, and will be able to grow like mine"
"but it gets so big"
Now. Wow... I actually have closure on this, or I thought I had. This is the first time in about three years that I have thought on this. I don't know why. I was sure I had closure. The back story, he was not only abusing me (not sexually). but my sister and my mother. By the age of 11 I knew this. I knew he had to go. By then he was in his 70's so had so many meds. I was there every day, in his bed, naked, and washing him, and kissing him, but not on the lips.
I dread to think what my mother and sister went through, so by the age of 11, I planned it. And over months played with his meds. I used to make his lunch on weekends, after nan died, he was bed ridden downstairs. So I would cook mash, sausages and gravy with peas. And over weeks/months I crushed his meds in to the mash, hidden with butter and salt. but eventually I found the blue ones worked best.
After 15 mins he was groggy, so one day I finally thought today was the day, and I ran upstairs, and ran a cold bath, stone cold and only cold.
When it was to the overflow, I turned off the tap, and went downstairs, he was really groggy by then, "come on granddad, time for a bath", and he struggled out of bed and came with me, I helped him up all 13 stairs, it was long and hard, but we got there, and left to the bathroom, and I told him to take off his slippers and get in the bath.
He did.
And I watched. and watched, I can still feel what my heart was like, pounding, thumping. I ran downstairs and grabbed all his tabs, ran back to the bathroom.
I cracked packet after packet, and scattered the tablets far and wide around the bathroom, he was sinking further and further.
Then I grabbed a few strips of the plastic packaging and pressed his thumbs on them. I had watched to many columbo by then!
And I watched.
He was getting close to the water, but stopped, he was not sinking any further. This was were my 11 year old brain did not compute, my granddad was 6 feet 7 inches tall, and in a standard UK bath, would never get below the water.
I watched him for over an hour, hoping he would sink, I considered helping him, but so far I had touched nothing in the bathroom apart from the taps, but I had wiped them, and pressed his fingers all over them. The tabs my finger prints would be there, but that was ok, I helped him, so had an excuse.
But he was starting to wake. He was starting to come round.
This I had not expected. I panicked.
I ran home, Ran to my mother and said I had found him in a bath of cold water, and tablets everywhere. She grabbed my father and told me to go play with my friends.
Within hours an ambulance appeared and he was taken away to a mental hospital where he later died.
My mother thanked me that day.
Before she died, she thanked me again.
Sorry, I did not intend my blog on here to become this, but I feel I need to speak about it.
I remember making the climb to bed and it was something like this -
"no, to get in to bed you have to take off your clothes, go on, undress."
"but...."
"that is the rules, if you want to be with granddad, you have to get in to bed, and bed means no clothes, I thought you were a big boy".
That is one of my earliest memories, then I remember me with him and my sister, she was sat on his lap, and I remember feeling upset. I also remember "it is your sisters turn, it is time you were a man and learned when to share".
Why was I upset?
I also remember
"why is your's so much bigger?"
"one day yours will be this size, and will be able to grow like mine"
"but it gets so big"
Now. Wow... I actually have closure on this, or I thought I had. This is the first time in about three years that I have thought on this. I don't know why. I was sure I had closure. The back story, he was not only abusing me (not sexually). but my sister and my mother. By the age of 11 I knew this. I knew he had to go. By then he was in his 70's so had so many meds. I was there every day, in his bed, naked, and washing him, and kissing him, but not on the lips.
I dread to think what my mother and sister went through, so by the age of 11, I planned it. And over months played with his meds. I used to make his lunch on weekends, after nan died, he was bed ridden downstairs. So I would cook mash, sausages and gravy with peas. And over weeks/months I crushed his meds in to the mash, hidden with butter and salt. but eventually I found the blue ones worked best.
After 15 mins he was groggy, so one day I finally thought today was the day, and I ran upstairs, and ran a cold bath, stone cold and only cold.
When it was to the overflow, I turned off the tap, and went downstairs, he was really groggy by then, "come on granddad, time for a bath", and he struggled out of bed and came with me, I helped him up all 13 stairs, it was long and hard, but we got there, and left to the bathroom, and I told him to take off his slippers and get in the bath.
He did.
And I watched. and watched, I can still feel what my heart was like, pounding, thumping. I ran downstairs and grabbed all his tabs, ran back to the bathroom.
I cracked packet after packet, and scattered the tablets far and wide around the bathroom, he was sinking further and further.
Then I grabbed a few strips of the plastic packaging and pressed his thumbs on them. I had watched to many columbo by then!
And I watched.
He was getting close to the water, but stopped, he was not sinking any further. This was were my 11 year old brain did not compute, my granddad was 6 feet 7 inches tall, and in a standard UK bath, would never get below the water.
I watched him for over an hour, hoping he would sink, I considered helping him, but so far I had touched nothing in the bathroom apart from the taps, but I had wiped them, and pressed his fingers all over them. The tabs my finger prints would be there, but that was ok, I helped him, so had an excuse.
But he was starting to wake. He was starting to come round.
This I had not expected. I panicked.
I ran home, Ran to my mother and said I had found him in a bath of cold water, and tablets everywhere. She grabbed my father and told me to go play with my friends.
Within hours an ambulance appeared and he was taken away to a mental hospital where he later died.
My mother thanked me that day.
Before she died, she thanked me again.
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