Voice from an Urn

By Viga Boland

When a father physically, mentally and sexually abuses his daughter from ages 11-23, why does her mother do nothing? Has the mother enabled this situation? Did she want this to happen? Why didn't she step in and help her daughter? What kind of mother does nothing" Or, did this mother even know?

These are the questions readers of Viga Boland's first memoir, "No Tears for my Father" were asking after reading the graphic details of her true story of incest. It was an ugly secret Viga Boland had kept hidden for over 45 years. She told no-one, including her husband, until she was 65.

Now, in "Voice from an Urn", Viga addresses her readers' questions through her mother's own words. Find out why her mother did nothing as together they fill in the blanks about those tension-filled years of secrecy. This is Part 3 of the story begun in "No Tears for my Father", a return to the horror of those years after the oasis offered in Part 2, "Learning to Love Myself", Viga's memoir of recovery and rebirth.

"Voice from an Urn" is another gripping true story by Viga Boland, written for BOTH victims of incest: the children and their mothers. But it is also a story of unspoken love between a mother and child.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Viga Boland
• Release date: Dec 1, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310784873

Viga Boland

Viga Boland is the author of 4 books, three of which are memoirs based on the childhood sexual abuse (incest) to which she was subjected from the ages of 11-24. She kept the abuse secret for nearly 45 years, not even telling her husband and family until she was 65. On hearing the details, her small but supportive family encouraged her to write her true story to help other victims of incest realize they are not alone and to increase awareness of this much denied form of sexual abuse. The result of the encouragement was her first memoir, self-published in 2013, "NO TEARS FOR MY FATHER", for which she received a Gold Medal in the 2014 Readers Favourites Awards. Today, at 70 years of age, Viga Boland is a popular speaker at conferences on Sexual Violence. She also blogs and podcasts on sexual abuse, (i-Tunes, Stitcher, Podcasts.com) along with teaching memoir writing in her local library. She is also devoted to helping other memoir writers increase their visibility via her blogs and podcasts at http://www.memoirabilia.ca Viga's 2nd memoir, "Learning to Love Myself" is centered on her story of healing and self-discovery as someone worthy of love. This book is an uplifting and enjoyable read. The 3rd memoir in this series on sexual abuse, "Voice from an Urn", answers questions about Viga's mother's role, if she had one, in the incest. You can listen to sections of this book via her "VIGALAND" podcast. (See Viga's personal website for the links on iTunes and Stitcher) Viga's other book. a semi-memoir, is a very humorous account of her 4-5 years in a Catholic High School in the early 60's. "The Ladies of Loretto", at this time, is only available from Viga's personal website: http://www.vigaboland.com

Book preview

VOICE FROM AN URN

© 2015 by Viga Boland, B.A.

The book author retains sole copyright to her contributions to this book.

This is a work of non-fiction, a memoir. All the characters in the story are, or were, real people in the author’s life. Some names have been changed to protect the person’s identity.

ISBN: 978-0-9920497-4-4

Photos © John Boland, Viga Boland

ALSO BY VIGA BOLAND

__________

No Tears for my Father (2013)

(a true story of incest)

Learning to Love Myself (2014)

No Tears for my Father: Part II

(a memoir of recovery after incest)

The Ladies of Loretto (2015)

(a nostalgic humorous memoir of being a student in a Catholic High School in the 60’s)

I thought my stories were finished

There was nothing more to say

But your voice came from your urn

On the 28th of May

You begged me to tell your story

To speak out for all the others

Not just for victims like me

But the other victims: their mothers

© Viga Boland, 2015

Though she died 9 years ago and will never read this book, this book is dedicated to my mother, Jadwiga Maria Kubala, aka Betty and Julie by those who couldn’t pronounce her name.

The date in the poem above, May 28th, is the day on which she was born in 1927. She passed away on October 16, 2006.

This book is also dedicated, as my mother would have wanted, to the thousands of other mothers whose children were the victims of incest by a member of their families, who like her, felt powerless to stop the abuse, even if they did know it was happening, or who coped with their powerlessness by living in denial.

BEFORE YOU READ THIS BOOK, READ THIS!

__________

The middle of this story is missing. Why? Why was it written like this? For that matter, why was it written at all? Here's why:

It was 2012 when I finally told my husband and adult children that my biological father had sexually abused me from the ages of 11 to 24. I was 65 and had been married to John for over 40 years. No one, including my then six- years-deceased mom knew of the sexual abuse. At least, that's what I believed. 

While I often wondered if mom knew, and if she did, why she hadn't done anything about it, it wasn't until readers of No Tears for my Father asked the same question time and again, and even said they despised my mother for not helping me, that I found myself compelled to address their veiled accusations.

Discussions with other victims and my own research (please read Findings at the end of the story) revealed many mothers of incest victims are seen as collaborators, enablers of the sexual abuse. Yet, I did not feel that way about my own mother. Yes, she hadn't helped me, but had she knowingly helped my father become my abuser? Did she want that to happen? And what about that burning question: did mom know? 

In Voice from an Urn, I have tried to explore my mother's side of my true story of incest. I have used mom's voice to tell it, pulling together what both she and my father had told me of her past, and what I observed of her as I grew older. But I had to write this book based on my belief that my mother did NOT know. And if she didn't know, then how could I have her narrate what happened during those years when I was aged 11-24? I couldn't. Hence, the unusual approach I have taken in writing Voice from an Urn.

Mom begins her story, for two chapters only, in the second last year of her life: 2005. Then she returns to the beginning, sharing her own true story of life with my father from 1945 - 1958. After that, the middle drops out for the reasons explained above. Then she returns the reader to her last year of life, 2006, where together with me, she fills in the blanks for us all. 

Thank you for taking a minute to read this before reading Voice from an Urn. Now, you are ready to turn the page.

TO KNOW HER WAS TO LOVE HER

__________

VOICE FROM AN URN

A Mother’s Side of her daughter’s

true story of Incest

Mine is the voice

The voice from the urn

The voice unheard

The final word

The story told

From another side

A life that died

While still alive

Finally burned.

Mine is the voice

The voice from the urn

WHERE IT ALL BEGAN:

__________

I was fourteen when the German soldiers bashed down the door of my family's home in Woclawek, Poland, and took me to work in the labor camps. I became a prisoner of war.

I was just eighteen when Bogdan impregnated me in the trenches while sirens screamed overhead and the allies ended the war. The Allies set us free, but I was far from free. Viga was growing inside me.

My body survived the starvation, typhoid and physical hardships of being a prisoner of war, but my spirit and everything I was, had begun its journey toward a slow death.

FORWARD TO THE DISTANT FUTURE: 2005

__________

CHAPTER 1.

__________

Mom? Mom, wake up. Mom?

Huh? What? Where am I?

You're at the Juravinski Cancer Clinic, mom.

Where's Auntie Maria? Where's my mama? I was just talking to them. They told me they were praying for you and you were in God's hands now.

You've been dreaming mom, Viga tells me. Come on sweetheart. It's time to get you back home.

Viga helps me out of the big, black, comfortable hospital recliner in which I've been dozing. I am groggy. So tired. I'm still looking around for my mama and Auntie Maria. I am sure they are here somewhere. I saw them so clearly; heard their voices praying and Auntie Maria saying Viga was in danger.

Mama, help me here. I need to get your booties on.

Viga is struggling to put my feet inside my boots. She is a good girl. She isn't what Bogdan told me year in and year out after she married John. How long has it been? My mind is muddy, confused. It's all the chemo treatments. I didn't want to have them when the doctor told me about the massive black spot they found on my left lung. I was scared of the pain I heard comes from the chemo. But Viga pleaded with me to reconsider.

Mom, listen to me, she said. If you don't start the chemo right away, you could be dead in a month. Do you want to be dead in a month?

I don't know, Viga, I cried. I just don't know. I'm scared. I'm scared of the pain.

Mom, mom! Listen to me. Millions of people have radiation and chemo treatments and they survive and get to live just that much longer. I don't want you to die in a month. We've had so little time together, thanks to dad. So little time to enjoy life together. Give me some more time with you, mom. Please.

Viga pleaded with me that entire weekend. I didn't want to tell her that not only was I scared, but I was so tired of living. I didn't want to say that as far as I was concerned, I had been dead ever since that beating Bogdan had given me when she was in my belly in Germany. That was the day I saw my future and was powerless to do anything about it. I argued with her.

Viga, what difference will it make if I live another month or two? I'm 78. I'm old. I'm tired of living. Don't you understand?

Yes I do mom, but you only really started living after he died. Having the chemo might give you more than a month or two. You might get a year, two years. Who knows? What have you got to lose by giving it a try? If it works, if it kills the tumor, you'll still be able to go play Bingo with the girls, and watch Victoria singing on stage, go shopping with me, watch those old movies you love...all the things you've come to enjoy so much over the past five years of freedom. Heck, we still have to take that vacation in the Caribbean I promised you.

I giggled when she said that. Me in the Caribbean? On a beach? With all my wrinkles and fat belly? She was dreaming, grabbing at straws. But she really did seem to want me to live. How could she care so much about me? I had been such a useless mother. I wasn't deserving of her love. 

Come on mom, Viga said forcefully. Sign these papers. Do it. The doctor said we must start the treatment immediately or it will be too late.

Viga's voice softened again. I saw the tears in her eyes. She really did care. She must really love me after all. Was Bogdan so wrong about her? Why had I believed him? Had he been poisoning my mind against her all those years?

I looked up at her. Do you really think I should?

I had never been able to make a decision about anything. Bogdan had made all the decisions in my life. I was lost without him telling me what to do. 

Yes, I really think you should, mom. Here's the pen. Sign.

I signed. Viga was my Bogdan now. I obeyed.

CHAPTER 2.

__________

Here you go, mom. I've made you some soup. Let's see if you can taste this?

Viga props up the pillows behind my back so I can sit up a little straighter and adjusts the blankets over my legs. I don't feel like eating. I can't taste any of the food she brings me. She has been trying so hard to get me to eat but all the food is flavorless. I can just make out the aroma of the soup. It smells good.

When did you start making soup? I ask Viga. 

Since you came to live with us and showed me how you do it. You make the best soups ever. And I need you to get better so you can make more. Now, how's that one?

Seems okay, I reply. "I can taste