Neverending Story.

In the years since my daughter’s brutal sexual assault and murder I’ve lost count of the number of times telling my Daughter’s story has led to disclosure from the person I’m speaking with. Either they’ve experienced abuse themselves or their children or friends or parents have. It’s happened again this week, in a place I’d not expected, leaving me a trifle unprepared. And you’d think, would you not, that after all this time, having heard so many stories, and with the knowledge of how pervasive child sexual assault is, that I’d not be unprepared at all. But I can’t be resigned. And as much as it pains me to hear it I’ll always be glad when secrecy and silence are broken down by someone speaking out.

In other news can I say there is something truly healing about watching The Man I Am I Love With with his children. He is such a great father. Watching him leaping to champion for his Daughter, his tenderness with her. Listening to them sing a duet. His commitment to his children, his love for them, shines out of him and is glorious.

Life, hey? Such ugliness, such beauty. Think I’ll sit with the beauty for a while.


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