You Bury the Bastard: Preacher Don’t Omit This From the Eulogy
father has just died (July 2020). The last time I had spoken with him
was in 2016. Am I or will I be grieving? The answer is no, I am a
survivor. The coping mechanism (grieving) is activated upon loss. It
would better reflect reality to say that my grieving began at least 20
years ago upon sensing the hopelessness of our situation and the
improbability of reconciliation.
because humility is important. Humble people are open to reason, to
having their actions scrutinized which can lead to change if need be.
Improbable due to lack of family character. Pride is the nemesis. Love
changes everything, love is a virtue. Love means you care that you are
not puffed up, that you have compassion. It is a damn shame that a
non-Christian must remind people that claim Christianity of the
characteristics of love (I Corinthians 13:1-13…for those that need the
reminder.) Practicing or real Christians insist upon the virtue. Love
conquers fear, but fear clings to security and refuses to face up to
to pop psychology, the maxim goes when a kid is bad, that kid is mad
about something that was never addressed. He’s bad because he is mad.
Given my title, perhaps you are curious if I want to shame or defame my
father and family? I’d understand why you would think this, but what
I’ve really wanted all along was to talk to a madman that was head of
a nuclear family that refused dialogue. What angers me was my father’s
cowardice, his refusal to dialogue, reason and face his demons as head
of the family. The arrogance to just “write someone else” off
because they refuse to be subjugated or bullied. Real men deal with
issues, they don’t run from them.
properly reframe things, shaming is what my family has sought to do to
me. My family claims Christianity, in my eyes, I can’t square any of
their behavior with I Corinthians 13. It would be unfair to place the
roots of our issues solely upon my departure from Christianity. No, it
goes back much further. In fact, the roots goes back to infancy. All my
1999 departure from Christianity did was to exasperate things.
life, some people are so cold blooded that it creates hardships. Some
people shouldn’t have kids, but they do, and I’ve had to figure out
on the fly how best to deal with the situation. It’s been the
toughest, most unpleasant challenge of my life. The toughest stretches
were growing up as a child 100% dependent upon my parents and subject to
in my case there was a lot of cruelty, beatings and child abuse from my
father. My mother? My mother was complicit. Whereas most
momma’s stand up and fight for their children…my mom wasn’t that
way. Many women wouldn’t tolerate such behavior…the man wouldn’t
be loved by the woman for abusing her child. That was my mom, that is
what I've had to come to grips with. Often, through the years growing up I
would plead for motherly protection. My mother didn’t appreciate this,
in my 7th grade summer she flat you told me she wished I
hadn’t been born. That didn’t compute with me then…but unwanted
children shaped my views upon abortion.
is a lot of ugliness that I don’t want to re-hash here. Tell all’s
goals are to shame. What I hope to accomplish with this is part
therapeutic to help me cope and deal with the latter stages of grief.
Second, religion has greatly complicated things; not due to it’s
principles, but due to their abandonment which is a secularism topic of
importance. Third, my family has caused a lot of pain, unnecessary pain
and funerals are customarily venues where pain is usually dealt with.
Going to the funeral, isn’t an option…it is complicated. Many of you
know what I mean. Funerals are battlegrounds with my twisted
family…yes, this is 100% accurate and fair! I’m a street-fighter
that doesn’t mind mixing it up when necessary. Decency and ethics
matter to me. I purchased the Bury the Bastard domain as a venue to
house rebuttals to those dealing with seeming impossible situations. My
family will be the prototype. It really angers me that preachers “sell
out” at funerals, that they stand behind a casket or urn and discuss
someone other than the subject at hand! This is NOT OK! God damned sell
outs! Truth should matter. In memorandum, when you reflect upon
someone’s life, contrarian viewpoints shouldn’t be muted! If you
lived you life like God exists, I wouldn’t call you a sell out!
us are going to die someday. Normal people, conscious people, especially
those “with Jesus in your heart” normally contemplate the ending of
their lives and how to genuinely clean-up unresolved issues before they
pass. They reflect upon their values, those they love, and how they want
to be remembered.
my paternal grandmother died, I recall her anger and the words that
I’ll always remember. She said, “I hate it when they look me in the
eye and lie to me!” I winced, I knew she was talking about my father.
When she died, I was in California. My NC family didn’t want me to
attend her funeral, so they withheld informing me of her death and
buried her less than 48 hours after she died. Similar shenanigans took
place when my beloved Aunt Sis died to keep me away. Dam bastards…that
is what Jesus does to some people’s hearts!
publicly written about these two-funeral incident’s, so with my
dad’s passing, the usual suspects found a proxy to relay my father’s
passing on to me. Who did they choose? A man whose father was a church
going pedophile with money. I suppose whenever you buy his kid a car,
certain things can be overlooked. God how I hate pedophiles! God how I
absolutely despise those that cover for them! Money grubbing Bastards!
Some might be offended that I've used "bastards," that it is an impolite word. I'll remind you that it is a Biblical word that the Bible popularized. You're offended at the Bible!
preacher, for a few dollars, will “preach the funeral” of my father.
Funerals are such a grand opportunity for that minister to make an
impact with a message for the survivors. Sadly, he will probably do just
like every other clergyman and have them sing a few songs, and talk
about the glory of Heaven. Faint chance they will inquire or speak about
what the man was really like…just don’t forget the gratuity.
literally known thousands of preachers in my life. Not only from my
ministry days, but from my years as an Olan Mills’ Church Directory
Representative in California. I understand them. Do you know that I’ve
never had one preacher, and only one person that knew me and my family
simply ask about the stained relationship with my family? So many knew
what was going on…yet, only one person had the “gall” to ask my
mother or father pointed questions to seek accountability, seek
repentance towards God and reconciliation with their son that they had
been so vile towards for most of his life.
ministerial education required training in counseling. From that basis,
I knew that if our situation stood any chance of reconciliation,
counseling would improve those odds. Not content with the status quo, as
far back as 2001 I sought professional help to resolve issues. I
subjected myself to risk. Risk that the counselors might find a personal
“blind spot” of mine. That they may confront me. That I might be my
own worst enemy. This is why I discussed virtues earlier. For any plan
to work, my parents would also need to do the same. I needed a “go
between” to approach my parents.
two sisters, one cares about money, that is what is important to her. My
other sister, Kathy, she had a conscious soul, Kathy was the one that
nursed my bloody hands at the age of 5 (I won’t retell the story,
I’ll provide the link.) Kathy was that “broker” between my
parents and I. The deal was that I would have sessions with a trained
counselor in Charlotte (I lived there in 2001) and that my parents would
do the same with a trained counselor in Asheville. The agreement was
that we would open each of ourselves up to a counselor…and later
everyone would come together after the counseling sessions. I kept my
end of the agreement, but my parents never attended one session…NOT ONE.
Kathy was the go between, I asked her to press upon my parents that they
keep to their agreement. All they did was to shirk responsibility and
squeeze Kathy. In hindsight, I would do things differently today. That
was difficult on her.
back to California afterwards, Kathy came out twice to see me and we had
a real good time together. On her last visit, she broke down, and told
me about a lot of stuff from her childhood and the aftermath and all the
times she sought professional help to help her deal with what she had
went through. No tell all, I’ll carry that conversation to the grave
the years, I’d seek to open dialogue and inquire of the possibility of
reconciliation with my parents every so often. There were windows of
time when dialogue was open between us and we spoke…but that nagging
feeling that my grandmother alluded to was lurking around about being
true & genuine.
Kathy was diagnosed to have cancer and my parents made a visit to spend
some time with her in Virginia. We lived an hour apart. To me, it was
unfathomable how any grandparents would not want to see their new
granddaughter whom they hadn’t seen. My parents would not drive an
extra hour to see her…at that moment, the distaining words of my
grandmother came to mind. Now, my daughter is a beautiful teenager. Her
paternal grandparents have NEVER sent her any cards, never a birthday
gift or a Christmas present. Her maternal grandmothers never fail to
scrape a few nickels together for presents and always want her
attention. This is the life I’ve had to live with my parents who
“love Jesus” so much.
“family,” all of them profess to be Christians, just couldn’t help
themselves when Kathy died to have her Memorial service 4-5 weeks later
after specifically asking me when I could go…there was a 3-4 day
period when they clearly knew I couldn’t attend…that is exactly when
they scheduled it!
kept this all to myself for many years. They have always sought to
posture and control the narrative over the years.
Through the years, one never knows who would be the first one to pass
on. I finally reached the point that I had to accept reality…that
nothing would ever change. As far back as 2001, when I had several
sessions with a professional counselor about how to deal with such
unloving parents. At that time, 19 years ago, we discussed how I would
deal with the passing of either of my parents if they were to die first
and in the event there were no reconciliation. That time has come.
before you sell your soul and place my father in Heaven. I want to
remind you, my two soul warped siblings that survive, and my mother of
what the scriptures actually teach about genuine Christianity, love and
true faith. This is the standard of Heaven:
I Timothy 5:8 (KJV)
I John 2:8 (KJV)
John 4: 20-21
a man say, I love God, and hateth his brother, he is a liar: for he that
loveth not his brother whom he hath seen, how can he love God whom he
hath not seen?
this commandment have we from him, That he who loveth God love his
hardships that family cruelty deposit have been very tough for me to deal with.
Every so often when I see a normal loving family unit, sometimes I’d
fantasize and wish that I could have known what that was like firsthand.
It would have been nice to have a loving supportive family with
traditions and holiday get togethers.
leaving Christianity in 1999 was like gas on a fire. The tension was
high, and it was questionable if I was going to join them for
Thanksgiving in 2000. I felt the greatest betrayal of their treatment
towards me for walking away from faith. To make matters worse, then my
mother told me that they were going to invite my brother-in-law’s
pedophile father over for that Thanksgiving. I hit the roof! I berated
them, challenged their human decency and promised them that I will
definitely be talking with Johnny! I was then uninvited…they chose a
pedophile over their apostate son!
incident though, was the start of my acceptance of how it was going to
be going forward. I accepted my being their bastard son, I came to the
realization that backward hillbillies were what they were. The years
rolled on with little if any communication between us.
previously mentioned, every so often I’d seek to open dialogue. There
was an incident when mom did show some tenderness, some concern, some
compassion. I won’t go into it here, I was appreciative…I thought
that perhaps my mom had matured after all those years. Up until that
point, she had never asked to see her granddaughter, no cards, gifts,
played family again…on the phone for a few months. Now, I don’t
believe that there is a devil, but I see why people say that there is
one after the very last time I spoke with my father. There was a phone
call when mother and I spoke first, then dad joined in later. My dad
acted possessed, like a scene from the Exorcist, I’ve never heard such
vileness! It was nasty!
so bad, mom dropped the other phone line and told my father that she
just couldn’t listen anymore to this. One of the last things my dad
told me that he would kill me if he saw me. I challenged him, I told him
that he was such a tough man beating up on a child. I asked, now that
I’m older would you have the guts to say that to my face without any
weapons? I welcomed a fair fight…just fisticuffs or wrestling. He
doubled down, he meant weapons. He said if I ever come near, that I
could count on his killing me. Remember Marvin Gaye? This is called
was the last time I ever spoke with my dad. I never called him an ugly
name. I challenged most everything he said and I doubled down as well. I
asked him…”Is this the way you want it?” “Do you want these to
potentially be your last words to your son?”
my mom’s earlier kindness, my daughter and I drove down to NC for some
whitewater and a chance opportunity for my mother to meet her
granddaughter for the first time. Now, I couldn’t or would never place
my daughter in danger. I had to figure out some way for us to
meet…just my mom.
wished I could have planned, but my lunatic dad was very capable of
following through on his threat to kill me. So, I made the 8-hour drive
from Virginia, to be at a restaurant about a mile from my parents’
house. I called on a pay phone and my father picked up…so I hung up. I
called back about 20 minutes later, and my mom picked up. I said hi mom,
I regret how things are in the Worley family. I asked her if she would
like to meet her granddaughter? I told her we were less than a mile away
and that she could join us at the restaurant. She came, it was awkward,
but it was a start. She had a doctor’s appointment and couldn’t stay
too long…so we arranged to meet again later that day.
called back, she asked if my father could join us? I reminded her about
the last phone call between my father and I. I reminded her of the
ugliness and death threat…I reminded her I would never subject my
daughter to any of this. I reminded her that I view forgiveness as Jesus
said…” What do you mean?” I simply said, “Jesus forgave those
that asked…but they had to ask. People that don’t ask will
not be forgiven. Jesus wasn’t a universalist…and neither was I. That
they had to have a new mindset, whereas Jesus demanded repentance…I
needed to know that dad had a changed mindset from before. I simply
said, no that hasn’t happened…no father, especially a professing
Christian should hate their own blood and threaten to kill them. NO DAD
was the last time I saw my mom. We spoke and I tried afterwards for a
new start with mom….but the old, insincere, non-genuine manner of life
returned. For the longest time, I felt that a man shouldn’t have to
work that hard to make something work out. That a son shouldn’t have
to press one’s parent’s to actually care about the life of their
offspring. As we got closer to Christmas, my mom asked what we wanted
have one simple request.
my mom, “As kindly as I know how to say this…I don’t want any
trinkets. That I don’t want money.” She asked, “What do you
want?” My reply was this, “I just want what every kid wants from
their parents and family…something that I’ve never had. Something
that I’ve felt I shouldn’t have to ask for.” “I’ve just wanted
to be consistently loved as a normal child would.” This is what I
offended her, evidentially she thought what we had was normal.
The last communication I had with my mother was in January 2017. That was the way it ended with my father…my mother is still living. My family is impossible…writing is an outlet to help me deal with the way things are. Preacher, if you really want to know what the man was like, this was the man I knew.
this article was written by Brian Worley
Brian Worley Ex-Minister.org July 19, 2020 All Rights Reserved