Sometimes I think what would have happened if Fr. Pinkman had not turned his back on me that day on that railway platform. What if he had approached me and put his arms around me and told me he was sorry. It would have meant the world to me. I would have forgiven him there and then. It would, to a great extend, have lightened that burden on my back, that devil I’ve been carrying all my life.

I really believed that Fr Pinkman cared for me, maybe I needed to believe that. Even after he had turned away from me that day.I still believed he cared. I realise now that he never cared at all.

But Fr Pinkman has gone,so has Ceresoli and Valmaggia. They can never appologise now. I always had a silly dream that they would, especially Fr. Pinkman. But of course they never did and were never likely to do that. I cried when I found out that Fr Pinkman had died, I desperately needed something from him, an admission, a sorry, an acknowledgement of wrong things done. If he had cared about me he would have done that,

They are dead and gone but the injustice continues relentlessly.

Nardo is still alive and so are the Verona Fathers and the church. They owe Mark something and the church owes us all something. When an individual does something wrong it’s on them. But the church is complicit in all that has happened and is happeneing. They are protecting the evil and that makes the church evil.

I must admit I don’t quite understand it all yet. I wonder if Fr Pinkman and Nardo and Ceresoli and Valmaggia and all others like them,including those who are protecting them, ever went to confession I don’t understand how, on the one hand confession can bring forgivness, and on the other hand, confession doesn’t seem to include a genuine expression of sorrow to the victims. An acknowledgment of guilt to those affected so cruelly. Maybe they are in denial and if so they are denying the very God they are suppose to represent. Maybe Ceresoli is not the only whited sepulchur,maybe the whole damn church is, but I hope that is not the case.

The church has something that’s priceless, something far greater than money. Something that would alleviate some of the pain and horror inflicted by them. All it would take is some genuine humility. I hope that will happen one day. But for now,it seems beyond them to do that.

To All,

It is very difficult.

I need to move forward and attempt to regain my life back again – not only for my sake, but for the sake of my children, my wife and my family and friends.

The last three years, to say they have been difficult, is a massive understatement.

Whist out walking today, I began to think about the inner peace and happiness that used to be such a big part of my life. A peace that I desire to find and embrace again.

My striving and fighting for justice has become too much. It has taken its toll in all areas of my life. The anger and fight that I directed at the Comboni Missionaries, in subtle ways is coming back and hitting me.

It was in this vein that I rang Rome today and asked to speak with Sanchez, the Superior General. I explained to the receptionist and then to a priest who i was. I was informed a couple of minutes later that Sanchez would ring me back. The Sanchez call never came. I rang again and was once again, informed that Sanchez would ring me back. The Sanchez call never came. I suspect that they were seeking advice and legal council. I rang back and was told that Sanchez was out. I asked to speak to a priest that spoke English, and the phone was put down. It was subsequently put down on all of my calls after that. It is still being put down now two hours later.

Having the phone put down on me was difficult and hard to understand. It upset me. I had built myself up to talk. An opportunity to have a dialogue and more importantly, an opportunity for progress. Progress, not only for me but also for my abuser and the Combonis. Nobody else would have been involved. It was them and me. Nobody else would have known.

The dialogue that I wanted would have certainly finished off the criminal case that WYP are still pursuing against my abuser.

I still see the need for change within the Catholic Church, and I would like to believe, that I will continue, to chip away at the church’s foundations, especially in relation to clericalism and the abuse of children.

The offer is still there.

The Civil case has finished – both mine and my friends. We are able to move on. There is, if I want to grasp it, a freedom now that allows me to say: “listen to me.” “This is what you did.” “This is how you avoided the truth.” Lawyers are no longer involved. This is how we feel now. The Combonis have had opportunities to a dialogue that could free them, and also free many others. They have not been able to do it. I suspect clericalism is too powerful a force in their life. Perhaps it is like a drug that they cannot give up. I would like to know. I have a right to know. My family have a right to know. We all have a right to know.

Comboni Missionaries Exposed

Yesterday the Obsever Newspaper published an article exposing the culture of abuse at the seminary in Mifield owned by the Comboni Missionaries (ex-Verona Fathers).

Read it here – http://www.theguardian.com/society/2014/oct/19/sins-of-the-fathers-sexual-abuse-catholic-order

Please feel free to leave a comment or post your thoughts.Your input and views negative or positive would be much appreciate .

To all ‘Mirfield Old Boys’ and to anyone else who may be interested,

There are comments on the blog that indicate that people want the blog to continue. For my part it has served a big purpose and i thank many people for their contributions and their support.

Many lads who were at Mirfield in the 1960’s and the 1970’s have come forward and talked about their experiences. I believe the comments and the support from others have enabled many men to talk or write about their time at Mirfield for the first time. For some of these people it has been a liberating feeling: “finally i am not alone,” one person wrote to me. This has, i feel, been one of the overriding messages that have come from the blog. People do not have to be on their own anymore. There are others there for them. There are others who have been through similar experiences. There are others who will listen and help.

When Kevin, Tony and myself set up the blog we never thought that there would be so much interest from ex Mirfield lads. Many people have written – and many read what has been written. That has to be a good and positive result for all of us.

It would be good for Kevin, Tony and myself to know how much interest there is to keep the blog active.

Thanks,

Mark

Thanks to all the people that have contributed to the Verona Father’s blog over the last couple of years. I know that it has helped many people.

When Kevin, Tony and I started the Verona Father’s Blog, we had no idea in which direction it would go and who would be interested in it. More importantly, we questioned who would want to contribute to it.

Writing about sexual abuse and neglect cannot be easy, and writing about abuse that happened to the person who is writing, is more than hard. It can leave yourself open and exposed, and psychologically back in the vulnerable situation where the abuse happened.

Dealing with that situation can take a long time. It can take a life time; it can take more than a life time, and then self harm, for many, is a big escape option.

In that aspect, the Verona Father’s blog has helped. Knowing that others were abused; knowing that it was not just you; knowing that you could talk about your Mirfield life, and then being able to write about it to friends and companions is a massive positive experience.

Everyone that has written about their Mirfield experiences on the blog, has shown overwhelming support, encouragement and a deep sense of solidarity and love to the adults that, as children, were abused at Mirfield.

The subscription on the blog runs out next month. Therefore if you want to write your Mirfield thoughts, memories, future hopes and aspirations now is the time to do it.
Or maybe there is someone else wanting to taking the Verona Father’s blog on!!
Best wishes to all.

Mark

Neither Kevin Deignan nor Mark Murray are the author of this posting.

I do have some happy memories of Mirfield . I loved playing football.I probably wasn’t all that good at it but I loved it.I would run ’til I was exhausted and then run some more. I even loved the early morning PE and especially the games we played in the copse at the bottom end of the football pitch.
I remember the long walks we would go on through the snow and I remember the freshly baked bread.
I remember when,on occasion,some man would visit and bring a large bag of chocolate bars,and I remember laughing at the wrong moment when watching a play,’A man for all Seasons’. The executioner,with a pot belly, in profile, silhouetted against the backdrop,lifting his axe,was not the time to laugh,but some of us giggled at the scene, bringing displeasure to some .
I remember the candle-lit processions and crawling through a coal mine to a coal face and visiting Fountain’s Abbey.
I remember the smile on Fr.Grace’s face when I came top in Eng Lit. And I remember the orange juice.
And I remember one of my friends putting his arms around my shoulders and telling me not to cry.

I am married to an ex Mirfield student called Tom Wharton. He attended the seminary from 1962-1964 and is saddened and shocked at the revelations on your site as he had a largely good experience there. His memories are happy ones although some of the routines seemed a little harsh – morning runs in all weathers, PE in full uniform before breakfast, working on the farm in winter etc. I have tried to access some photos with no success, can you advise how to see them please?

Tom may be remembered by his nickname ‘Chunky’ or ‘Tiny’ !

IT CATCHES YOU UP

It happened to thousands.

Innocent lonely children looking and responding to warped affection and love by adults they respected or were forced to respect.

Later, it crawls or sneaks back into your life, and it catches you up.

No matter how good and clever you have become in pushing it back; getting on with your life; wearing many different masks; sooner or later, it is there in front and not behind.
Running away, keeping the thoughts and memories behind is too difficult. Run back? — No, you have already been there.

It is in front and you have to decide what next.

You either stop dead or meet it head on. It is more than difficult, it is destroying, it brings back the frightening and the despairing moments, and especially if you feel alone.

They become alive and part of you again – they are no longer historical, they are alive and in all parts of your life and your family’s life.

It is so sad.