Unraveling Family Betrayal: A Journey Through Deceit and Healing

This post is one of the hardest I’ve ever written. Part Two of this journey isn’t just about change. It’s about the kind of heartbreak that shakes the foundation of everything you thought you knew. Last year revealed hidden truths. These truths cut deep and reshaped the way I see parts of my family. They even changed how I see myself. Sharing this isn’t easy. But I believe that healing begins in honesty. I know not everyone wants this information out in the open. If you’ve ever felt blindsided by betrayal, I hope you feel seen. If you’ve ever felt lost in grief, I hope you find something here to comfort you. This is a piece of my truth.

This isn’t going to be for everyone.

Skelly-

Do not speak your complaints and cry like babies with all your annoyances to anyone who will listen. Pray and take heart. Write it out, for God knows your thoughts. The enemy is dumb and cannot read or hear your thoughts, but it can listen to you complaining and whining. God blesses you with healing. God gives rest and peace. The enemy tricks you into chaos, confusion, and death… he is a lair, but it starts with what you speak out loud.

*Read Chapter One Here https://fabricthatmademe.com/2024/05/30/part-one-it-began-several-months-ago/

Chapter Two: One Hell of a Year

I was left in a strange and uneasy state after my grandpa passed away. Even recounting it now feels somewhat taboo. It’s not just the natural sorrow of losing a loved one that haunts me. A lingering sense of injustice followed in his death. His departure in September marked a turning point, coinciding with a disorderly period in my life. A few months before his passing, I immersed myself in work, juggling countless responsibilities you read in Chapter One. During this chaos, I went on an unusual trip to Tennessee, a whole story unto itself. However, the main reason for the journey was to visit my grandparents in North Carolina with my mom and daughter.

At the age of 43, I grappled with conflicting emotions about the visit. Many things I still hold close to my chest. While I cherished my grandparents dearly—they were instrumental in raising me—I harbored an avoidance to North Carolina and its residents. This reluctance stemmed from the presence of my grandparents’ youngest old man child. Despite his old age, he embodies everything repulsive and vile. I cannot overstate the disgust I feel towards him; his very proximity fills me with dread. He embodies the worst imaginable traits, and his mere mention evokes a visceral reaction. I could delve into the dirty details of his crimes. I choose not to for the sake of my own sanity. His existence is just one reason I had no desire to set foot in that state. I avoided their home, despite my longing to see my grandparents.

You experience profound hurt when you love someone this much. At the same time, I never fully agreed with their beliefs and choices. There was an internal conflict with my grandparents. It drove a wedge between us. It created a void- the depth I couldn’t understand for the life of me. I didn’t realize it back then, the way I do now. It would continue to divide us. It separated us as if by an unbridgeable existence spanning heaven and earth.

During that visit, I held my daughter with almost desperate intensity. I clung to her so closely that she was practically on my lap. It was an uncomfortable closeness. I wanted her to keep her distance from the predator. This discomfort was made all the more obvious by the fact that she’s now thirteen. But I wanted nothing more than to keep her safe from him. I didn’t even like his beady eyes looking towards her.

I’ll skim over the specifics but emphasize that despite my grandpa’s remarkable physical condition, he wasn’t immune to pain. He was robust, often outpacing others despite having a walker and cane at his disposal, which he rarely used. He even wielded a motorized wheelchair to tackle tasks like mowing the lawn. His vitality was obvious, a testament to his resilience.

Yet, his strength didn’t shield him from the trials he endured. Like many of his generation, he bore the scars of war. He faced harrowing battles and endured many surgeries from head to toe. He conquered cancer with the same tenacity he displayed on the battlefield. His toughness was legendary, but even the strongest have their limits.

I observed his gradual slowdown, and his weariness was visible. The burden of his son’s incompetence and the strain of his wife’s escalating mental distress surely took its toll. How could it not, given the constant presence of such a draining company?

When I left their house, I noticed a few strange things. A few things struck me as odd. However, it wasn’t until later that I realized how bizarre and unsettling they were. The first thing was the bossy attitude their “man-child” son would adopt towards my grandma. His demeanor would cause my grandpa to intervene and calm things down. It was strange to witness such behavior towards elderly parents in their 80s and 90s. All from a “man,” dare I say, in his 70s, who is clearly old enough to know better! It was as though they were dealing with a spoiled, bratty teenager, even providing him with gas money.

Another peculiar aspect was the arrival of a new wife for this bratty “man-child.” He has gone through several women in the past. He exploited them for money. He even abandoned one to die. As I’ve mentioned before, he’s a deeply disturbed individual. However, my grandma seemed completely smitten with this new wife. She spoke of her glowingly as if she were one of her own children. Actually, loving her and treating her far better than her own daughter! Despite no one knowing much about her at all. The lady entered the house and kissed my cheek. She explained it was a cultural gesture. Sometimes she switched between English and another language. Her inconsistent behavior left me with a strange feeling. Something was off.

A Frantic Call and Uneasy Suspicions

The phone rang with that unexpected call, frantic and cryptic, a sense of unease, leaving us nothing but uncertainty. Details were puzzling and missing crucial pieces! All of it made no sense, and it left us confused and anxious.

“Your Grandpa is gone.”

All we knew was this: Grandpa and Grandma had returned home that day. It was an ordinary day for them. Grandpa, usually robust and in charge of things, felt off from the heat. He asked for a bottle of water while he waited in the car. Grandma hurried inside the house to get him a bottle of water.

When she returned, the scene had shifted. Grandpa lay on the ground. Panic surged as Grandma called for help! She summoned her “man-child” to the scene. His arrival was followed by a call to emergency, and more tension and confusion followed.

We pieced together fragments of the chaotic narrative. Then, uneasy thoughts lingered in the aftermath. Could it be that this sequence of events was not merely happenstance? Dare I entertain the notion… was it planned?

Exposing the Truth

Over time, their “man-child” spoiled brat son and his scheming wife began exploiting my grandma’s fragile, broken mind. Without my grandpa there to protect her or their bank account, they started to seize control. They dismantled everything my grandpa had built, sending money abroad to her family overseas. All my grandpa’s wishes were shredded.

It took only a few fine-tuned lies and a couple of fancy letters. As a result, my grandma believed my grandpa wanted to share his hard work with strangers in another land. No matter what anyone said, they had her hooked.

We all saw a side of my grandma we had never known existed. She became nasty, mean, and cold—starkly contrasting to the woman we once knew. It was ugly and ruthless. The truth about my grandpa’s passing began to surface. She fought harder than ever to conceal everything. She wanted to make sure nothing would cast her “baby, the man-child,” in a bad light. With each passing day, the situation grew more toxic and revolting.

Her other children—my mom, her daughter, and two sons who lived away—became casualties of this escalating family drama. Sadly, the “man-child’s” own children, now adults themselves, faced many attacks as well. My sisters and I also had our share of this turmoil. We were fortunate enough to live in different spheres of existence. No matter what they did, it couldn’t harm us.

This situation was sad and very illegal. Those with a heart, a brain, and any moral and ethical code had no choice but to seek help. That help came in the form of wellness checks and surprise visits, quickly revealing the disturbing reality. This led to a more significant intervention. A thorough investigation uncovered every misdeed and sneaky scam perpetrated by both the “man-child” and his wife. When authorities began asking questions, they already knew the answers. This was a significant win for the good guys, but it required patience and waiting. Unfortunately, there are no real winners. At this point, my grandma’s mind is still too far gone. The loss is too great and irreversible. What is gone is gone. And my grandpa is still gone.

Outsiders, including external agencies, had to confirm what we already knew. They finally stepped in to protect my grandma from herself and her “man-child.” Sadly, it might be too late to achieve any meaningful justice now.

My grandma believes no crime has been committed against her. Despite all the obvious signs, the hands of the helpers are tied. Meanwhile, that “man-child” son of hers continues his appalling behavior, surrounded by the unsavory company he keeps. His wife’s suspicious past is troubling. She has multiple aliases and still has a husband in another country. These facts only add to the grim picture. They, along with their family, are now benefiting from my grandpa’s untimely death.

They wanted him gone.

The Schemes of the Man-Child

The only way they could have gotten all these assets was by getting my grandpa out of the way. This poor excuse for a human being was known to brag to several people. He even bragged to his own son. He claimed he was about to come into a lot of money and, in his words, “be rich soon.” This was a good month before my grandpa passed. A few months prior, this piece of work and his wife began targeting my grandma. They took her to lunch and bought little trinkets to decorate her porch. In my grandma’s eyes, they were “spoiling” her. I believe this was all part of their sick manipulation plan. They groomed my grandma to think she would be well taken care of. They made her believe my grandpa was ill and dying. They wanted things my grandpa never intended to give. It was a plan from the start.

My grandma thought it was wonderful, all these little doting acts, but in reality, she was being groomed. This slimy trickster wife brought over new plastic flower decor. She placed it on the patio. My grandma adored it. Then my grandma would suddenly want to shower her “man-child” and his wife with dinner outings. She also gave them gas money for this cheap Dollar Store buy. My grandpa saw through the act. He saw it as more clutter blocking the walkway. This clutter made it difficult to get through with the walker, and he wanted it to stop. He even told his “man-child” son to talk to his wife about buying all this junk. He insisted they didn’t need it. They should save their money instead. I heard my grandpa tell all of them on our visit to stop with all of it. He didn’t like it, and he didn’t want it. None of that was working on him!

My grandma’s mind wasn’t well, and that’s why my grandpa protected her so fiercely. The “man-child” and his wife exploited her vulnerability and groomed her. They convinced her that they had her best interests at heart. Meanwhile, they dismantled everything my grandpa had worked so hard to build. They not only dismantled my grandpa’s Will, which he set up protections for both him and my grandma. But they dismantled our whole family as well. They are disgusting.

Fast forward, and it seems my grandma has begun to see the truth. Her youngest son is a liar with bad intentions for her. However, she still struggles to understand all the things that came before. Sometimes, she goes backward in her thinking. This includes the letters and the small lies. These led her to give away my grandpa’s hard-earned savings and much of their money. Those savings were meant to keep her safe and secure for the rest of her days. Unraveling that web of deceit is still difficult for her.

Part of it might be her own guilt for how cruel and ugly she was. She has been with the people who have loved her most over the years and treated them pretty awful. Those who would—and have—moved mountains for her, she treated terribly. Maybe she doesn’t want to face her own sins in all this. I can’t say that I blame her.

I find myself grieving the loss of both my grandparents. I haven’t lost them both to death. I have such sadness as I reflect on my childhood. The sweet moments we shared and the ones I try to avoid. I see how quickly I was forced to grow up because survival was imposed on me. But also, how much I looked up to my grandpa. He was like a dad to me in so many ways. Now he’s gone.

Flashback to the past

I vividly remember one piercing scene. I was barely 5 years old. My dad was standing under a tree on my grandparents’ property after they lost one of their children. It was my youngest sister. My mom was still in the hospital, holding on to life herself and one of the twins. My dad, overwhelmed with grief, screamed at the top of his lungs and fell to his knees, crying. I looked out the window at him. I wanted to run to him. My grandpa stopped me. He hugged me tightly. He said my dad was having a moment with God. I remembered that.

When I was hurt in the house—still just a child myself—I went to that same tree. I cried and had my own moment with God. Even now, I seek that kind of peace. I go outside to cry and have my moment with God. It’s become my way of finding “my moment with Him” and connection in times of need.

When it rains, it pours. But you know what they say about rain- without it, nothing grows.

A Legacy of Love

To end Chapter Two, I want to share this about my grandpa. He might have been hard, and he certainly wasn’t perfect. If he could come back, I’m sure there are things he would change. If I could say one thing about him, it’s how faithful he was. I believe it’s the greatest gift anyone can give. They faith.

My grandpa taught me a few essential lessons about life. One of these was never to take the easy way out. He believed a home-cooked meal is love. The other, and most importantly, was always to turn to God first in every situation. He introduced me to Jesus. Without that foundation, I wouldn’t have been able to later guide my very lost husband to God. He is now a strong man of God for our home and leads our family in Christ daily. Together, we raised two beautiful, God-fearing children who love and serve God wholeheartedly. Our deep relationship with God began with my grandpa’s love for Him.

It all started with Grady Little and his strong faith; I will forever be grateful. His faith and love for God planted the seeds. Those seeds grew into the strong faith my family and I hold today. That is a gift that has saved my life and our souls today. A foundation. Why his children miss that lesson, I don’t know.

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