Could you tell me one thing you have never toldanybody?
Answered Aug 27
When i was 7 years old.. wevisited our hometown which is in Ranchi, Jharkhand. I remember my age because iwas turning 8 after 10 days. It was a 5 day visit.
There was a man, a respected man it seemed. He was anArmy officer and my grand father's colleague (My grand father was also inIndian Army).
He was really sweet because on the first meet itself, he offered me and mysister lot of chocolates.
One day i was playing and he called me. He held me and started taking me to hishouse (His house was just beside ours). Just after we reached, he handed me abig chocolate and then grabbed me and made me sit on his lap.
He told me to eat the chocolate and i cheerfully tore the wrapper andstarted eating the chocolate that he handed me.
The next moment he slid his hands inside my shorts and soon he startedtouching my private parts. I did not know what he was doing and thought it wasa gesture of showing love. Every day he used to call me.. hand me the chocolateand do the same.
It was later.. i realised what he actually did.... And i was filled withdisgust.
My fate was so worse that i was alloted a premier insititute in Rourkela,Odisha.. after i cleared my entrance exam and had to stop in Ranchi becausethere was no direct flight to Rourkela.
I had to see his filthy face for 4 years straight atleast twice a yearwhen i used to go for vacations.
It was one month before...... I got the news.. That he died of heartattack.
I never told about this incident to anyone... Neither my parents nor myclosest friends.
I never thought such a man who serves the country.. Could do such thing.
And yes.. This is my chance..
And i know because of dumb peoplelike me, who are too scared to open their mouth…Rapists and murderers get awaywith their crimes.
Answered Jun 5
Switching to anon, as I’m not100% sure that what I’m about to say won’t get me into legal trouble.
My first wife was a horribleperson. After we married and she got laid off, we agreed that I would continueto work outside the house, while she stayed home to raise our children. It wasan arrangement that worked well for a few years.
Over time, it started to becomeobvious that she was spending less time raising the kids and more time playingFarmville. She stopped taking the kids out, allowing the public school systemand cable TV raise our children instead. She began to develop severe healthproblems - hypertension and diabetes among them - in addition to gaining asignificant amount of weight.
When she received the diabetesdiagnosis, I told her - as the cook in the house - that I would adjust ourgroceries and meals to suit the new reality, if she did the research to findout what she needed to avoid and/or introduce, in order to manage her illnessesvia diet (along with the not-insignificant medication that she had beenprescribed). She never did; she expected that I would.
There was emotional abuse. Earlyin our relationship, there was an instance of physical abuse, which inretrospect should’ve raised a red flag. I was young and lonely, and stupidlybrushed it aside (though I didn’t just take it sitting down).
Everything just kept gettingworse and worse, until one day I started having a long-distance affair.
It reminded me of what I was ableto offer. It reminded me that not all women were selfish. It reminded me that Icould be happy.
The affair lasted close to a yearbefore she decided that there wasn’t a future for us. It hurt, but inretrospect I realize that she was more of a life preserver for me than aserious relationship.
About a month after the affairfell apart, I asked for a divorce. The look on her face was one of shock anddisbelief. Hindsight being what it is, I now understand that she failed tobelieve that she wasn’t the greatest thing to walk the Earth, and how I couldresist her charms. Gag.
That’s not what I came here towrite, though.
Six months after separating, Iwent to visit my son. My soon-to-be-ex wife had long been in the habit ofsleeping in very late, well into the afternoon most days.
On that particular day, when Ivisited, she wasn’t up. My son, having gotten home from school earlier, told methat he hadn’t heard her moving around, and asked me to go and check on her.(He apparently had been told not to go into her room for any reason)
I knocked on the door andannounced myself. Got no reply. Knocked and spoke louder. Nothing.
I opened the door and there shewas, still in bed. Sighing, I walked over to the bed and went to shake herawake.
She was cold. Cold and dead. As Ilearned later, she had taken such poor care of herself, that she had anenlarged heart, and it failed.
I started sobbing. I grabbed thephone and called 911, told the operator what had happened. The operator askedif I could perform CPR on her.
I stopped. I said no.
I hold a certificate in first aidand CPR, and have since I was a teenager.
I said no.
There may have been a chance thatshe could’ve been brought back, before the paramedics came around, but I saidno.
I was sobbing not out of grief…But out of relief.
She would’ve used the kids in thedivorce proceedings. She would’ve done whatever she could to make my lifemiserable. She had put me through years and years of misery over 15 years ofmarriage.
And she was dead.
And I was glad.
Leon Brennan, Recovering Drug Enthusiast.
Answered Apr 18 · Upvotedby Jeremi Shearon, Assistant Manager at Casey's General Stores (2017-present)
In the summer of 2006, my GoldenRetriever, Reigen, had a litter of fourteen puppies. I took off three weeks ofwork so that I could rotate them for feeding on momma’s milk. As they grew andbecame playful, the neighbors started taking notice. My next door neighborBeth, kept very strange hours. Every morning around 4:00 am I'd let Reigen andRoxy out to play and use the bathroom. Beth would walk up to the edge of heradjoining yard and ask how the puppies were doing. I'd politely answer and askhow her son Mitch was doing. We'd talk for about twenty minutes and then moveon with our day.
When the puppies were about sixweeks old, Beth told me that her son was interested in having one. I stoppedher right there and informed her that if Mitch was interested in a puppy, heshould talk to me directly. The very next morning, Mitch walked over and askedif he could talk to me for a minute. I invited him to sit on my porch with me.I hoped it would help ease some of his obvious anxiety. He asked me how much Iwas selling the puppies for. I told him $650 each. I could see his mind workingsomething out by the way his eyes darted back and forth, as he mumbled a fewnumbers under his breath. He said, “Leon, I would like to buy a puppy and nameher Ginger". He told me that he didn't have a dollar saved, but that he’dfind a job, make payments and be her best friend for life.
Obviously, I had concerns. Herewas this thirteen-year-old boy, with no money and little to no sense ofresponsibility, that thought trying to raise a dog was a good idea. I did myvery best to make sure that each puppy was going to a good home and I wasn'tabout to sell some irresponsible kid one of them. In my head, I quickly deviseda plan. I told Mitch that he had 4 weeks to save up $400. He had to give it tome in exchange for a 10-week old puppy of his choice. He could pick the puppytoday, but he couldn't have her until he had the $400. After that, he had tocontinue paying $100 a week until his debt was satisfied. If he defaulted, byeven one day, I got Ginger back. He shook my hand to seal the deal.
Mitch found a job that same day while I was at work. He starteddelivering newspapers seven days a week. He mowed lawns and did whatever hecould to make and save a buck. I think it was three weeks later that he handedme $650. He was so driven and I was so impressed. Ginger was his. After all, weshook on it.
I lethim know that if there ever came a day when taking care of her wasn't possible,to please give her back to me. I told him to never give her to anyone else. Heknew how I treated my dogs and it was an easy commitment for him to make. Weshook on that as well.
For thenext year and a half, Mitch and Ginger were inseparable. He was always walkingher and playing with her. He loved her so much.
But as it goes, life can be very cruel sometimes. The day afterthe New Year in 2008, Mitch wasn't out at all with Ginger. I didn't see him thenext day either. It was probably January 5th, 2008, when my doorbell rang.Mitch was just standing there. I answered and immediately knew something waswrong. I thought for sure that Ginger had been hit by a car. He tried to be sostoic, and in his bravest shaking voice, he told me that his Mom died. That hehad found her in the kitchen on the 2nd, and immediately called 911. She had ananeurysm and had fallen sometime the night before. He asked me if I could takeGinger back because his dad only had a one bedroom apartment and there were nopets allowed.
I feltmy chest tighten and throat swell. My eyes started blinking really fast, tryingto hold back the tears. He handed Ginger’s leash to me and slowly walked to hisfather's car with his head hung very low. I brought her inside and unleashedher. Kneeling down, I made eye contact with her and started crying. The painwas just too much for me to bear. My heart was broken for Mitch and for Ginger.
Threeweeks later, Ginger was getting along just fine with her sister, mother and mytwo other dogs.
A few days after that, I saw Mitch walking up my driveway. Iopened the door with Ginger and invited Mitch inside. Mitch told me that hetalked to his father about moving back to Akron. They had found an apartment afew blocks from where I lived. Mitch asked me if he could pick up Ginger onFridays after school and drop her back off on Sunday nights. Their apartmentwas only a few blocks away, so I was confident that if he needed any help I'dbe right there. I agreed to the arrangement which reminded me of a sharedcustody agreement between separated parents. My only real concern was thatMitch would outgrow his desire to be with Ginger. Mitch was about sixteen bythen. I was afraid that with school, driving, working and a girlfriend, he'dstart missing the pickup times and just slowly fade from Ginger's life.
Fridaywas the big day. I got Ginger amped up for the 4:30 pm pickup. Mitch's fatherpulled up to the end of my driveway and the passenger door swung open. Gingertore off down the driveway and greeted Mitch with jumping kisses.
Everyweek, like clockwork, Mitch had Ginger for three days. I would see them walkingthrough Akron Park together and playing on the hockey rink sometimes. For morethan seven years, Mitch never left her alone on the weekends. Mitch was thebest thing that ever happened to Ginger. When I had to put Ginger down I knewit would be a very hard conversation to have with Mitch. She was old and herhips couldn't handle another surgery. It was a very sad day, but Mitch and Iboth knew it was time. Ginger lived a full life and was loved every day of it.
I washaving a cup of tea at the local coffee shop today preparing a paintingproposal. I looked up and there he was. Mitch sat down with me and told me thathe was graduating college in a few weeks. We laughed and talked about Ginger alot.
I was so shocked at how grown up he was. We ran out of timequickly. I never got to say how proud of him I was. How impressed I was that hesaved his money and bought his first and only dog. I never told anyone that Icried for weeks when Beth died. And until now, I never told anyone that thebravest man I've ever met, was a thirteen-year-old paperboy.
Apr 26 · 81 upvotes including Leon Brennan
It’s been over a year and a half since I first got involvedwith Quora and that was probably the most moving - andwell told - story I’ve ever read.
Yourability to pull the reader in, immerse them in a situation and completelymanage their emotions is positively legendary.
Somepeople share personal experiences. Others tell interesting stories. You havethat unique and rare ability to combine both In a way that picks up the reader,puts him in the car, takes him on a journey…and doesn’t drop him off tilhe’s back home safe & sound.
Congratulationson your sobriety…
May 27 · 17 upvotes including Jeffrey Davis
Jeffrey, that is one of the nicest comments I've everreceived in my life. Thank you si much for taking the time to say that to me. Iappreciate your support and encouragement.
Iappreciate you. Your friend,
Answered Jun 9
My mother was dyingof cancer when I was about 30. I visited about once or twice a week (I was notworking at the time, but the drive to my parents' house was almost an hour eachway.) I had visited on Tuesday, and told her I would come again on Thursday. Shewas fairly lucid at the time, and had full-time nurses caring for her at home.
On Wednesday afternoon, my fathercalled and told me the nurse said the end was coming soon, and I should comeover right away, which I did.
She was unconscious and had laboredbreathing. My dad held one of her hands and I held the other. This went on forquite a while. I had heard that sometimes dying people try to hold on for theirloved ones, so I leaned close to her and said, “It's OK, Mom. You can let go.”Within 2 minutes she drew her last breath and then died.
I felt guilty about it, thinkingmaybe I should have let my father make that decision that I had taken away fromhim.
A couple of decades later, myhusband's father came to live with us. He was dying of lung cancer, and couldnot live independently, but did not need constant medical help. He lived withus for around 6 months, then went downhill within a matter of 2-3 days.
The last day, he was unconsciousand had the “death rattle.” My husband and I went in to check on him before wewent to bed. I held his hand, smoothed his hair back on his forehead, and said,“You don't have to keep struggling. It's OK.” He died during the night.
I'm now terrified that I am somekind of bad luck or angel of death.
Chris Grebe, studied at Villanova University(2010)
Updated Aug 2
I think one otherperson knows this story.
The high school I went to wasjust outside of Philadelphia. The graduating Seniors would go to the Jerseyshore for Senior week (the week after they graduated high school) and it wouldbe a week of drinking, sometimes drugs, and having a good time with oldfriends. Most of whom you might not ever see again. This was before Facebook.
I had just finished my freshmanyear of college and was seeing some friends who were seniors and got invited totheir house for senior week. It was a group of cheerleaders, one of which I hada huge crush on. I’d recently had my heart broken by the girl I messed aroundwith in college and was stoked for a time to unwind and hopefully hook up withthis girl (we will call her Ellie) I had known Ellie for 3 years and she’d hada boyfriend for most of that time, she was single, I was single and this wasour time!
So we get down there and Ellieand I are having a great time together. Drinking, having fun spending the daysat the beach and the nights going to carnival rides and loving life.
So… here’s the fun part. I was19, I was still in that weird stage where taking a shit in front of girls wasnot cool. I was staying in a house full of girls. It’s like 12:15am and I haveto take a shit. BADLY. I tell everyone I was going to go to a friends house downthe street to see a friend and would be back in like 30 minutes. Ellie wantedto come but I made an excuse. She bought it. I ran to that house and theyweren’t home. I then ran to the boardwalk to see if any of the public restroomswere open.
NOPE. They close at midnight.FUCK. I thought to myself. There’s got to be some other restrooms. I run toanother block of restrooms and they too are closed. About 10 minutes havepassed and the shit I had to take 10 minutes ago was WAY worse. I start walkingback to the house where I had the uncontrolable urge to shit and my body wasnot stopping this from happening. I ran to the nearest house I could findwihtout a car in the driveway. I find one I run out back and justuncontrollably shit on what I find out is their back door mat. I use my boxersas toilet paper and clean up as best I could. I then go back to the house andpretend like nothing is wrong. Everyone is getting ready to go out. I say I’mgoing to go shower and go up and shower and no one ever knows what happened.Ellie, met me in the shower and we spent the rest of the week enjoying eachothers company.
18 years later I still feel likean asshole for shitting on someones backdoor mat but thats a memory that willlast the rest of my life.
Rana Usman, lives in Islamabad, Pakistan
Updated May 2
So this is long ago,probably in 2013. My grandfather who lived to 90, an war vet and landlord washospitalized in Islamabad, Pakistan.
He was a man who was known forhis bravery in the region. He was solely responsible for security of a convoyduring partition of 1947 where he lead his whole village to cross border fromIndian to Pakistan.
You might have come across peoplewho are intelligent and philosophical and likes to reflect upon life, hewas NONE!. He was kind of person who didn’t think much, ratherwould live in the moment and a happy lucky go person.
In our Punjab, there’s atradition that whenever grandsons meet their grand father, they give themsomething, often money, a small insignificant amount. For instance, every timeI met him, he might give me $2 or $5, just to show admiration and love.
Back to 2013
This frail and fragile man ispartially conscious and couldn’t speak a word, however he can see and probablyunderstand what is muttered to him. My parents and I were standing next to himwhen parents went out for something while I was alone with my grand father inICU.
Suddenly, I see him moving handinto his hospital suit pocket, trying to find something. I wasn’t sure what hewas doing. He searched his pocket for a while and when couldn’t find anything,he stopped searching. I wanted to touch his head with love and say to him “BeGood Grandpa” but I didn’t.
3 or 4 days after, he passedaway.
Many days after he passed away, Ikept thinking on why he was searching his pocket and what was he looking forwhen it dawned upon me that probably he wanted to give his grandson somethingas he came to meet him at ICU but he couldn’t find anything.
I sometime wish, I had putsomething in his pocket…