A story of brotherly love.....

by Tatiana 45 Replies latest jw experiences

Tatiana

Since I've been here, from around July, 2001, I haven't really shared any personal experiences of why I left the society, except for the story about my sister who committed suicide. This is kind of long, so I will tell it in parts. If this is God's organization, I will gladly be a devil worshiper.
Here goes......
When I was about 27 years old, (around 1984) after my divorce, I'd moved from Laurens, South Carolina back to Andrews, SC, and rented the house beside my grandmother. My grandfather built it about 1953. But, it was a nice house.
My Mom was living with my grandmother at the time. And they
decided to take a trip to Maine, to visit my aunt. We had book
studies and field service at my grandmom's, so I was to be in
charge of opening the house and making sure chairs were setup, etc.
Three days before they were supposed to leave, my step-aunt
from W. Virginia (a child by an affair my grandfather had)
showed up on the doorstep. I'd only met her once. She was
considered "white trash", by my Mom. She drank heavily, and
smoked. She told my grandmom she just wanted to visit. Her
husband had left her. And her only daughter was angry at her
for some reason. My grandmother had always treated her like
one of the family. Unlike my Mom.
Anyway, she looked really bad. Weighed about 90 pounds. She
spent the night, and I told my Mom I thought she looked really
ill. My Mom just said it was because of her lifestyle. And brushed
it off. The next day, I noticed she was coughing way too much.
And becoming unusually hoarse. I asked my grandmother and Mom
to postpone their trip to take her to a doctor and see if she
was okay. Bobby Joyce (my step-aunt) didn't want to go. And said
she was okay and no to worry about her. And I think my Mom was
relieved. She sure didn't try to force the issue.
They left for Maine the next day, Driving. From South Carolina.
Well, I was still worried. I had a feeling something was wrong.
Immediately after they left, my aunt went into my grandmother's
room, got into her bed, and wouldn't get out. I tried to talk to
her. To find out what was wrong. If she needed help. She just kept
saying she'd be fine in a couple of days. She needed to rest.
I got the kids, and moved into my grandmother's. Bobby Joyce never
got up. I cooked dinner, tried to get her to eat. She refused.
Breakfast....same thing. Just coffee and cigs.
I brought the TV into the room, so she could watch soap operas.
Around the fourth day, when I got up, I noticed a very weird smell.
Unpleasant. Different. I thought it was one of the kids..........
April
If you bury the truth under the ground, it will but grow, and gather to itself such explosive power that the day it bursts through it will blow up everything in its way.--Emile Zola, J'accuse
http://www.network54.com/Forum/171905
Tatiana

........it wasn't the kids. When I went to check on Bobby, she had
relieved herself in the bed. The strange thing was, the smell was
not like a normal feces smell. That was what started to worry me. I
asked her why she didn't get up and go to the bathroom. She said she
couldn't.
I picked her up, and carried her to the bathroom. It seemed as if
she'd lost another 10 pounds. Took off her clothes, and put her in
the tub. I stripped the bed, cleaned it, and put on fresh sheets. I
helped her wash, and found some clean clothes of my grandmom's. She'd
only arrived with a small knapsack. One change of clothes. I carried
her back to bed, and told her I was calling the doctor. She grabbed my
hand, and begged me not to. She said it was just severe arthritis. It
made her legs give out. And if I could get her some of grandmom's
Excedrin, she'd be okay.
I told her to let me call her daughter. She refused. She was the
only one with the phone number. And it was unlisted. She still would
not eat. I knew my family would be in Maine by now, so called my aunt
and told her what was going on. My aunt, who, BTW, has never been a
witness, was really upset, and told my Mom they should go home. That
it could be serious. I could hear my Mom in the background, saying
Bobby was over-dramatizing again. And just wanted attention. And she
wasn't cutting her trip short. After all, she'd already made
"ski trip" plans.
My aunt was angry, and they started yelling at each other. My
grandmother got on the phone, and I told her about the bed incident.
She was upset, but said, "You know how Caroel (my Mom) is, and I
can't do anything about it."
So, I hung up, and called one of the brothers in the congregation for
help. Told him the situation, and that my mother refused to come home.
He just said to wait a while, see what happened. And I had to respect
Bobby Joyce's wishes if she didn't want to see a doctor.
I was at my wit's end. I had never been in this kind of situation
before, and was so naive, and stupid, I had no idea what to do. Her
situation became worse. I called my Mom again and again. I called the
brothers. No one would help me. I spent nights crying. I was so
scared. It seemed as if no one cared, because she wasn't a witness.
She didn't matter. She had no money. No possessions. I know in my
heart that if she'd been a sister, my Mom would have rushed home,
and the brothers would have been beating down my door to help.
After about a week of this, with me actually carrying her back and
forth to the bathroom, I noticed blood on one of the sheets. That
was it!!!! I called the ambulance. Then I called my mother in Maine.
Turns out they left and drove to Boston, to visit a friend of my moms.
A sister named Helen. My aunt said she thought they were coming home,
but my Mom changed her mind at the last minute.
The ambulance arrived. Bobby Joyce was crying, and begging me not to
make her go to the hospital. I didn't think I had a choice. I rode
with her to the hospital, where they x-rayed her and ran all sorts
of tests. They kept asking me about insurance, (none) family (I was
it). I explained the whole story to the doctor. And that her
half-sister and stepmother left her in my care to go on vacation.
The doctors were so nice. So understanding. They called me into the
office and asked me to sit down....
April
If you bury the truth under the ground, it will but grow, and gather to itself such explosive power that the day it bursts through it will blow up everything in its way.--Emile Zola, J'accuse
http://www.network54.com/Forum/171905
Tatiana

.......her x-rays showed she had advanced lung cancer. The doctor said
from talking to her she had to know about it. That's why she didn't
want to go to the
hospital. And why she rode the bus from W. Virginia to South
Carolina. She knew she was going to die. He said she had a month
at the most.
I just sat there stunned. I couldn't talk. I burst into tears.
This poor woman, who knew she was dying, used her last bit of
money to ride the bus to see the only family she had left. And
when she found out they were going on vacation, she didn't want
to spoil it, so she told no one. She didn't want to die alone.
And all she got was to be treated like so much garbage.
I told the doctor I had no money. I was divorced. Trying to
raise 3 kids alone. What was I supposed to do? What would
happen to her? They wanted to transfer her to the Medical
University in Charleston. The doctor told me not to worry.
He just asked me if I could go with her. The Medical University
was 60 miles away. I had to find someone to watch the kids
for me. So, I called Brother Davis to see if his daughter
could come and watch them. He said okay, and I rode in the
ambulance with Bobby Joyce. She never let go of my hand. When
we got there, the doctors asked if she had any next of kin.
I told them I was it for now, but that she had a daughter.
Bobby Joyce still refused to give me her number. Or address.
I told one of the doctors that I knew the town she lived in.
And I had an idea that if I called the police and told them
her name and what was going on, maybe they could help. Well,
the doctor said I could use his private phone to call W.
Virginia. I gave the police all the details I could remember.
And they promised to call me back at the doctor's number.
She just kept begging me not to leave her. I promised her I
wouldn't. She was so scared. It broke my heart. I called
my mother in Boston. I told her what was wrong. She expressed
sympathy (a little too late) and said they would try to come home
ASAP.
The police found her daughter. Called the doctor and told him. And
I got to talk to her. Seems
they had a huge falling out and hadn't spoken for a year.
Thus the reason for her not giving me the number. Brenda
started crying like crazy. She told me they didn't have money
to fly, but would leave that minute and be there as fast as
possible. Her, her husband and her daughter, Melanie, who I'd never
seen in my life.
So, I was settled in the room, holding Bobby Joyce's hand.
Talking to her. I told her Brenda was coming. And she would
see her granddaughter again. She seemed more at peace. They
gave her pain medicine, and she went to sleep.
One of the nurses told me I had a phone call. It was Brother Davis.
Telling me Kim had to come home. She couldn't keep the kids all
night. He said he'd driven out to check on things and caught her
on the phone with some boy or some such nonsense. (She was later
disassociated)
I begged him to please let her stay. He knew what was going
on with my step-aunt. He refused. Said I had to come home. I
was 60 miles away, with no ride. A dying relative. And he did
not care. You'd think he could have taken the kids to his
home. Just for a night and a day. All I could do was cry.
I explained to Bobby Joyce, when she woke up, that I had to
find a ride home, get another baby sitter, and I'd be back
as soon as I could. I called one of the sisters I knew in one
of the congregations, and asked if she could give me a ride
home.
I told the doctors the situation. And that I would return that
night. Unfortunately, I couldn't find one person, not even at
the KH, that would keep the kids overnight. I was shocked. I
was hurt. I called brothers. Sisters. No help. I was desperate.
I couldn't let her spend the night alone. I promised I'd be back.
I called the hospital...told the doctors....I couldn't bring
the kids, (ages 2, 3 and 4) They were not allowed into the cancer ward.
I spent the night at home with the kids. And a "worldly" friend
told me she would keep the kids the next morning. So, I had
a ride lined up, and a sitter. I slept for about 3 hours.
A phone call woke me up.......it was the doctor in Charleston.
Bobby Joyce died during the night.
Part IV...to be continued....the funeral......
April
If you bury the truth under the ground, it will but grow, and gather to itself such explosive power that the day it bursts through it will blow up everything in its way.--Emile Zola, J'accuse
http://www.network54.com/Forum/171905
Mulan

You are breaking my heart...........how horrible!!
Marilyn (aka Mulan)
"No one can take advantage of you, without your permission." Ann Landers
Tatiana

........I collapsed on the kitchen floor when I got the call. I was
so wracked with guilt. I PROMISED her she would not be alone. What
would I tell her daughter? I sobbed until my head was aching and my eyes were burning and swollen. The doctor called
me back. I guess I disconnected him.
Asked me what I was going to do about funeral arrangements.
I had no idea. I was too distraught to even think. I had mistakenly thought my Mom and grandmother would be home in a day or two and take care of things.
I called Brother Blake to ask him what to tell the doctors.
God knows, I had no money to pay for a funeral. I had no idea if
her daughter and son-in-law did. And they were still driving. I had no way to get in touch with them. And I did
not know when they would arrive.
Brother Blake was no help at all. He said she wasn't a witness.
They couldn't do anything at the KH. He DID ask me why my mother hadnt' come home. And then advised me to let the
state pay for it. I was so ashamed to tell the doctor this.
Ashamed of my family. The doctors could not believe my mother
and grandmother never came home. Even after they knew she was
dying. Ashamed of the witnesses. How could they treat people this
way? She was a human being. She had feelings. She loved. She had
dreams. She needed to feel loved. What the hell was wrong with
everyone?????????
Her daughter called me from a gas station about halfway to SC.
The hardest thing I ever had to do in my life was to tell her
her mother had died alone. It was so hard to make the words come
out of my mouth, but I had to. This girl sobbed so hard. This
girl, who was my cousin, who I'd never seen in my life, cried
and cried and cried for a mother she hadn't seen in a year. And
I cried with her. For her, her mother, and my mother, who had no
feelings.
She was scared about what was going to happen to her mother as
far as a funeral was concerned. They had no money. NO insurance.
I just told her not to worry. That I'd handle it. I had no idea
what I was going to do. I just knew I had to do it!
Still no word from my mother during all of this. I decided then
and there not to try to call them anymore. After all, what was
the point? Why rush home now? Enjoy the rest of the trip, right?
I decided not to call the brothers anymore either. What was the
use? I called the doctor who was so nice to me. I asked him what
I had to do to at least have a decent funeral. He was so kind and understanding and he arranged for
me to talk to a Catholic priest. (me...who was raised in the truth,
actually "talking" to a priest? God forbid!)
Who talked to a funeral director.
Who arranged for her to have a nice funeral with flowers and a
headstone. I gave him what info I could about her birthday, etc.
The priest agreed to give a eulogy at her graveside. To say a prayer.
My cousin and her family arrived. We hugged. Had dinner. Drank a
little too much. We sat up talking most of the night. About what
happened. Memories of her mother, which I needed to hear. They had
no clothes to wear to the funeral. So, I got one of my mother's
black dresses, some shoes. One of my grandfather's old ties for
her husband. And hemmed a black skirt for her daughter. We all
drove to Charleston. Walked into an empty funeral home. Told her goodbye. We were, of
course, the only ones there.
The doctors even sent some of the most beautiful flowers. Not
a single petal from any of the brothers. Not one......
At the graveside, the priest prayed. We cried. For this lonely
woman who was finally at peace. I felt no guilt whatsoever at listening to the priest praying. Not one bit!
They left the next day. I was so very sad. I had grown up. I had
aged 10 years. I woke up. My eyes were opened. Forever changed.
One week later, my family came home. ONE WEEK!!!!! My Mom had decided
to visit another friend for a few days. They pulled up in the yard.
I heard the car. I walked outside. My grandmother got out of the car
and asked me where Bobby Joyce was. I just looked my mother straight
in the eye and said, "She's dead. But, don't worry about it. It's
all been taken care of." I started to walk off, but my Mom slapped
me right in the face, and actually called me a bitch. Told me I
should have called and let her know she was dead, so she wouldn't
have had to rush home! RUSH HOME??????????
I wanted to puke. I could not fathom what she
was saying. Was I on an alien planet? Was this God-like love?
I moved out two weeks later and didn't speak to my mother for about
6 months. Brother Blake had a heart attack about a year later.
Brother Davis contracted some form of cancer and died about two
years later. Poetic justice? Who knows?
My mother nor my grandmother ever went to visit her gravesite.
They never even asked where it was. I was the only one who did.
To this day, if I'm visiting SC, I never fail to go there and
put flowers on her grave.
A lonely, ill, fragile woman who wasn't "good" enough for the
witnesses to care about. A "worldly" person, not even worthy of a decent death.
April
If you bury the truth under the ground, it will but grow, and gather to itself such explosive power that the day it bursts through it will blow up everything in its way.--Emile Zola, J'accuse
http://www.network54.com/Forum/171905
safe4kids

((((April)))),
What an absolutely horrible experience to go thru, for you as well as your Aunt. I don't really know what to say, except that unfortunately, the 'love' that we were taught to depend on from the 'brothers' was so rarely in existence. Thank you for opening up to us and sharing what was such a painful experience for you.
Dana
drahcir yarrum

Tatiana:
Thank you for sharing this story. It is very sad and yet so typical of the JW's. It has always been the lack of love shown by Witnesses that convinced me that they couldn't be akin to a god of love. Oh, yes they are caring and sharing if they can somehow make a show of it for others, but they have no concept of sacrificing for their fellow man. And people in this forum sometimes have the nerve to ask if the WTS is evil. Of course it's evil when it teaches people to show total disregard for human compassion and decency. Be glad that your eyes were opened. And thank you for taking care of one of the unfortunates among us.
think41self

Wow ((((April))))
You have told several moving stories in your time here...this one was heart wrenching. I feel so sad for your aunt, but so happy she had you there at the end. Please don't feel unnecessary guilt over not being able to make it back to the hospital that night. It wasn't your fault...period!
Unfortunately, there are so many tales like this of "brotherly love", it is a sad thing. I am glad you were able to grow up and learn from it, isn't that what life is all about? And now you are safely out of that cult, and your children will never have to face the issues involved in being raised in it. Good for you!
Tracy
Reborn2002

In every individual's life, there are moments when no words are appropriate to express the emotion one feels intrinsically due to pain, or wishes to convey to another in a giving of sympathy.
Reading your experience, others here hug you by typing parentheses on a computer, and rightfully so, for on the Internet there is really no other way to transcend distance to show love or warmth.
I myself do not have the words or keystrokes to give you the sadness and compassion I genuinely feel in my heart for you.
I got about halfway through this post, and I started to cry. Your experience reminds me so much of my own. Similar, yet different.
My grandfather was an elder for 45 years. When he died in 1999, they would not hold the repass at our home. His daughter's/my mother's home, because my dad/his daughter's husband was DA. Instead they all agreed, my mother and brother included, that it be held at my brother's house, because he was a baptized witness and still faithful to the organization.
This pained my father very deeply. He loved my grandfather very much, and in the name of religion they acted so cruelly. Anyway, surely, they made token remarks and brought food for a showy display of affection. For 2 years after that I stopped going to meetings and wallowed in a deep depression I wouldnt wish on my worst enemy, and all the "brothers and sisters" who allegedly had so much concern and christian brotherly agape love for me.. never visited me or called me or asked me to go out with them ONCE.
Only when I attempted to return to a meeting did they even show the slightest interest, and even then it was a condescending "where have you been? what would your grandfather think?" series of questioning.
And one wonders why this religion drives some to madness, and others to suicide.
Stay strong Tatiana. You are free from those clutches. Ive stated in a few others posts in the last day or two other nerve-wracking experiences I have suffered in only 21 years of life. No one, and I repeat NO ONE... deserves this.
The true Kingdom of God is located in your heart, not an organization of hypocrites.
www.geocities.com/latinloverchicago/Jason1.html for my new webpage and info!! Im trying to live now!!
Joyzabel

wow Tatiana, I am totally blown away.
What a loving heart you displayed at someone else's time of need.
"by their fruits you will know them". Glad you saw what kind of fruit your family and jws were displaying. It is always ashame that a tragic event helps us to wake up to the mind control and lack of love in the wtbts.
Thank you for sharing. I hope you can move on in your journey and become a stronger person from what difficulties you have endured.
j2bf

A story of brotherly love.....

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