Justice

     How can there be justice when I cannot face my abuser? I guess the closest I've come to justice is when we had our "little talk" in the garden. [see the post titled  'A Daughter No More'] And that was a long time ago.
     I was not in a frame of mind to stand up for myself yet. I had not read from books about clergy abuse, or talked with people who supported me. I had not lived long enough beyond the abuse to gain the perspective of the little bird that rules over this blog.
     But there must be some kind of justice... not revenge... but justice. All that happened has to have some kind of meaning... a purpose. Surely the story of it can be used. Others can learn from it, be comforted by it, and encouraged to speak out if they need to.

     I need to know there is justice, even after death. I need to know there are 'wrongs' that can be 'righted,' even this long after the fact. I need to find a way to make the ten years of my abuse worth something to somebody.