A man's life is over but I still have to live with the story

My ex-stepfather died Aug. 4, 2026. He family still in my home town, and a second family of his own, after my mother left him in 1984. A second family after he molested me for a decade.

After writing about the molestation and then finding out Kentucky didn’t have a statute of limitations in such cases, I filed a police report about the molestation, in June this year. I flew to Owensboro and my best friend, Jeri, drove over from Cincinnati to be my ride or die, my support, as she always is. She sat with me at the police department - twice. Filing the report one day and then meeting with a detective a couple of days later. She was there - to hold my hand, to watch my tears and my nervousness. To take me for drinks and shopping after.

The detective kept me posted after I returned to Florida. She let me know that she had verified that he was living in Lexington and had arranged to meet with him. She did that a couple of weeks later. He denied the allegations - no surprise. Really that didn’t matter much because a case that old would still have to go to a grand jury for review.

A prosecutor did just that, presented it to a grand jury, which was reviewing it as he/she gathered evidence.

A relative of Steve’s (ex stepfather) sent me the obituary a day after he died. No comment with it; she just wanted me to know. I greatly appreciated it and also felt bad that perhaps she knew my story and maybe no one else in her family did, and that was quite a burden for her.

I still don’t know how I feel about his death. My first thought was “mother fucking coward,” thinking he had taken his life after being confronted and knowing the truth would win out, perhaps fearing having to face the woman who was the five-year-old he first violated.

The coroner says natural causes - a heart event at home.

Does it matter, really? And wouldn’t that have been ironic - a father who took his own life who did nothing wrong and was an incredible human but whose mental health had taken a toll and a stepfather who did the most hurtful awful things to a child.

He’s gone and I can’t decide how mad I am. I wanted to confront him. I wanted him to know he didn’t get away with it. I wanted to offer an opportunity for any other victims to come forward. And I’m still pissed I didn’t get to do that.

I wanted to file charges two years before but I let a breakup with someone in Kentucky get in my way. I felt like suddenly I didn’t have a person by my side. Silly. I always had Jeri.

Seeing Steve’s obituary picture is not easy. So familiar. Same blue eyes. Same face, if much older.

The glowing words describing a man I knew as a molester, a person who hurt me - brutal.

So now there’s nothing to do except move on.

I had friends suggest I post my story on the obituary site, but what would that do but hurt people who did nothing wrong. They were just related to him or loved him, not knowing his past. And they didn’t know his past because I didn’t decide to tell it until recently.

He’s gone, that’s it. They can morn him and I can hopefully forget him.

I’m fine. I’m OK. That’s what matters.