John was my older brother and I adored him. The feeling was mutual although you’d never known it by his actions and just looking at his behavior inside the family.
He was the firstborn and he carried a secret only my parents knew about. My mother was pregnant when my parents got married and in the sixties that was a big no no. My father then proceded to take it out on John for the rest of their lives.
My brother was beaten, belted, smacked around and blamed for things no child should be accused. My father used him like a punching bag to get his anger and frustrations out. John grew up this way being the target of an abusive bullying father.
And our mother was just as bad to him. Even if the blow was softer because she was a woman, the sting was just as brutal. And she blamed John for her own actions as well. It was a sad state of affairs for John to grow up in.
Here he was the firstborn son. Usually a place of honor within a family. On the outside all looked well. Family did not have any idea what was going on behind closed doors. All they saw was what my parents wanted them to see which was the beginning of a perfect family unit.
John was a very outgoing and personable child. He was very diffferent from the parents. John made friends wherever he went. He still does to this day make friends in a very easy manner.
We grew up to be very tight. We had one another growing up and who else understands what we went through as children better than each other.
He was truly an abused child in every sense of the word with bruises and belt marks. He was terrorized from a young age by our father without understanding why. He had a mother whose main focus was to please her husband and not to protect her child.
He grew up this way and in turn became abusive with his younger siblings as an outlet. It was a hard situation. John took out his anger on his younger siblings and there was not much we could do about it since our mother never paid attention to his behavior.
The cycle of abuse continued on with John at a very early age. It was a bitter irony to me that my older brother could both protect me and abuse me at the same time.