You survived.

I've been reading over old text messages, looking for some sort of explanation. I still can't get my head around this. I don't understand it. And, you know me, I want to pick it apart until I do. 

Something struck me yesterday. You said something about being so scared and so hurt that you curled into a ball and fell in a black hole. Your big shoulders broke and you just collapsed. 

You also said that you were just beginning to come out of that, a little at a time. 

That breaks my heart in a million pieces. 

I just want to tell you that I'm proud of you for surviving. I'm grateful that you chose survival. I'm so sorry that you were hurting so much and thought you had no where to go here. 

I also want you to know that you always did ... and do ... have a place to go here. 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

You should have been there.

This past Saturday was Zoe's wedding in Neenah.  I went up early on Friday to help with the last-minute stuff that surrounds events like this. You remember how it goes ... eerily similar to our trek to Phoenix when Lynda got married. Errands to run, drama to damper and divert, smiles to interject ... just trying to make this sort of high-pressure thing happens with as little chaos as possible.  There honestly wasn't much to do on Friday. Lynda and Deb had it all pretty well under control. The hotel was just a block off the main drag in Neenah, so after running a couple of errands, Rob, Lynda and I walked to a local spot for dinner as everyone else headed toward the rehearsal activities.  Sitting in that bar, full of its Friday night crowd, it was hard to not think about what you'd have ordered or if you'd have thought it was too loud. We talked about Dylan's upcoming wedding and Kati's adventures in mom-hood. Our threesome was missing a piece. You should have be...
Read more

Are you OK?

I think you're not. Maybe I need to believe that for any of this to make sense.  If you had just walked away from me, I think I could get my head around it.  But you walked away from everyone and everything that ever mattered in your life. You left with two saddles, a red duffle bag, some tools, a few deer mounts, a turkey, some guns, and the clothes on your back.  I guess you didn't arrive in my life with much more than that.  But you walked away from your daughter.  Who does that?  Please get some help ... before this eats you up from the inside out or before you do this to someone else. 
Read more

Big balls.

You know how sometimes things that seem very different from each other really aren't?  For instance, love and hate seem like opposite ends of the spectrum, but in reality, they're two sides of the same coin. You have to really care about someone to love them or hate them. There's passion involved with both.  The reality is that the opposite of love is indifference. No feeling at all.  I wonder if courage and coward are like that.  You literally started living with another woman, in another state, moved with her three times, started a totally new existence and did not tell a single soul where you were. You lied to everyone you knew. (Except for the brief period in NC when you told me about the grading company.) For all practcial purposes, you disappeared totally and fell off the face of the earth, while building a totally new life in complete hiding.  You either have the biggest balls of anyone I know or you are the biggest coward I have ever met. Or maybe it's a...
Read more