A little over 4 years, 3 months, 2 weeks, and 5
days or 1569 days or 37,656 hours since you decided to go away forever. I have
spent that time trying to understand why and how I missed it. I have spent that
time trying to raise our children by myself. I have spent that time feeling
guilty that my last words to you were about the damn trash. I have spent that
time hating you. I have spent that time putting one foot in front of the other.
I have spent days in bed. I’ve lost a house, been homeless and thought I was
failing our children in ever since of the word.
I have spent that time losing people I thought would not go anywhere and
seeing people step-up that I never would have thought they would. I have spent
that time being an ONLY parent. I have spent that time remembering your
promises. I have spent that time hating the fire station for the part they
played (which was not really a part). I have spent that time trying to be the
glue you were and realizing I am failing miserably. I have spent that time, realizing
how much fucking damage you did. I have spent that time making sure our
children remember you with pictures, videos, and stories. I have spent that
time in the beginning being blamed by one of our children that it was all my fault. I have spent that time in the beginning
watching that same child draw nothing but death because it was the only way he
would see you again. I spent that time in the beginning with a child who wanted
to know why he was not wanted again. I have spent time another child who says his
memories are fading and he does not know what to do. I have spent that time
with a daughter who can barely look at our sons and me. I have spent that time learning
how to handle all the things you promised I would not have to do by myself. I
have spent that time reading our vows and trying to figure out where in them
you said you would check out with your own hand. I have spent that time watching two of our
sons walk across the stage. I have spent that time welcoming a new grandson. I
have spent that time a. will probably spend more time trying not to push my
baggage onto other people or to let it go. I have spent that time still believing
you were selfish and just transferred your pain on to the rest of us to deal
with. I have spent that time with more people than I can explain tell me that
sometimes you just cannot ignore the demons. I have spent that time never understanding
that. I have spent that time looking at our children and I cannot imagine
making them feel the way you have no matter what I am going through. I will
spend even more time watching the Hobbits walk across the stage at graduation
and you will not. I will spend even more time watching weddings and more grandchildren
and eventually even great grandchildren, and you will not.
There are five stages of grief and people who have
never experienced it (myself included until now), will never understand that
grief is not linear. Grief is personal and nobody will experience the way you
do. It is 3 steps forward and 2 steps back. It is thinking you have made it
past the. er stage, to realize all you did was suppress it. Realizing that the anger, the guilt, the depression
are never going to go away, that you just have to learn to live with it. Knowing
in my head that it is not my fault that you made the decisions you made. Knowing
that you planned it, that you took your gun, that you left your job, that you
went where none of us would find you, that you put the gun to your head and
that you are the one that pulled the trigger, does not make it any easier. Realizing
it never gets easier, but it does get a little less hard as time goes by.
Today with the help of the only man who I knew
would be strong enough to walk the path I took; I went to the fire station. I
actually stopped, confronted my fears, hates, sorrows & pain. I took
pictures of the station. I screamed into that man’s chest until I felt myself
break. He held me as I cried and demanded to know why. He held me while I cried
for our children, our Ohana. He held when my knees threatened to buckle, and I
tried to understand something I will never understand. He held me while he
reminded me what a good man you were, how hard working you were and how your
demons had to be so massive and taking over so much you saw no other way. My
dad held me while I raged against you silently screaming for all the things we
will never get to do, for all the things you are going to miss in our children’s
lives. He reminded me that you loved us. He held me while I did one of the
hardest things I have ever had to do. He held me while I said goodbye. He held
me while I let you go. It does not mean I will not have days that I will hate
you. It does not mean I will not have days where the depression is so much I cannot
get out of bed. It does not mean I will not have days where I will curse your
name.
As I got into the truck and we drove away, I let
my hatred for the fire station go. I let the suffocating; consuming guilt go (I
will always have guilt, but I will not allow it to consume me anymore). I let
you go. I hope and still hate you for, that wherever you are you are finally at
peace. Time does not heal shit; it just allows you to learn to live with your
pain. The further we drove away I became just a little lighter.
