The experience of one Irish family

A comment posted at Pam's House Blend:

My mother and her sisters were removed from their mother's home when a parish priest in Northern Ireland deemed my grandmother to be an unfit Catholic.  The girls were sent to an "orphanage," which was a euphemism for "Industrial School."  The abuse there was unimaginable. My mother awakes in the middle of the night to this day screaming in terror, an old woman unable to escape the black veiled Catholic devils who beat her in her sleep.  The town's largest contributor to the Church liked to stop by and take a girl out occasionally for a little "father time," and my mother and aunts, being particularly attractive, were a favorite of his.  The nuns were all to happy to accommodate him, knowing full well what was going on.  All three grew to be women who still find it nearly impossible to untangle themselves from the webs of shame that the Church spun for them. When abuse was discovered by one nun or another, she was kept on the premises, until the cries grew too loud, and then she was simply transferred to another parish,  to another school.  I've researched this subject extensively, and in my research uncovered stories of 10 year olds hanging themselves in broom closets, drowning themselves in the icy cold waters that lap up at Ireland.  I'm now discovering other victims, new victims--the children who were raised by those who came from these institutions,  who grew to be the abusers themselves,  like my own mother (whose abuse towards her children was extensive, yet I can't find it in my heart to be angry with her, because I know where it comes from).  The legacy of the Catholic Church is one of abuse and pain, and it is a gift that keeps on giving to new generations to grapple with, among their denials.  (I apologize for not proofing--if I reread, I'll be unable to bring myself to post).