My patience first began in August of 2008. That was the day that your Mother chose to leave. That was the day when a home became a house and rooms became cells. That was the day when I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that life as I knew it would never again be the same.
The first few months were the greater part of one of those dreams you have in REM sleep. Vivid, poignant, impressionistic & not nearly as brief as you'd think they would be. Just wandering, really. Wandering around a house that for one week you two would inhabit and the next week, you would not. Rinse, repeat. Over and over and over. I wandered that hall and your rooms every single night.
Never wander, by the way. Wandering is waiting. Waiting to find what is waiting to be found. There's entirely too much waiting involved in my opinion. Go, instead. Go with purpose and intent. Even if you don't actually know where you're going. Just make sure you never wander.
I knew it was over that day, by the way. I knew there was never any going back. Trust had been raped, spit upon & kicked in the ass. I knew I did not like your Mother for the human being she was. I also knew that she had her own reasons for not liking the human being that I was. Everything in life is subjective. The only problem with that is that we subject our thoughts solely on what we believe. That's where faith can often fail us. She was a Deep South social butterfly, I was an Appalachian hillbilly. It happens.
Let's fast forward.
On Saturday your Mother will marry that man that took my life. She will say I Do, again, in the same church she said those very words not 15 years ago. She will wear white again. I find that laughable, but necessary due to her religion... More importantly, though, he will be my children's step-father.
That is pain. That is hurt. That is life.
I want you to know something. I want you to know something about your Father, specifically
I am Glad for her. I hope she finds happiness. I hope she finds what she is looking for. I hope your lives, away from me when they are, are filled with goodness. Regardless of who fills the shoes I once put in that little bin beside the door.
I have been looking forward to a certain day for almost four years.
Saturday is that day.
I've been wandering too damn long now. So, thank you Christie. I wish you well.
Even if you are marrying a pudgy, greying, slightly obtuse looking individual who kind of walks pigeon toed & talks in a pitch that is entirely too lofty for a man whose nuts surely attempted to drop at some point. Wow, that was mean wasn't it? I apologize. Not really.
As for you two knucleheads... well... I can't wait to pick you up Sunday. I've missed you terribly. I love you tremendously.
P.S. I was only kidding with the snide comments about your soon to be step daddy. I'm sure he just walks that way because he chooses to...
At least now I can breath again.
And Amen. That's the last prayer I'll ever whisper.