Wednesday, January 7, 2015

More Missed Christmases

 My daughter was home from college for Christmas and wouldn't see me.  She did not respond to my texts.  Is she so angry, so hurt, doesn't want to deal with all the pain of the past?  It breaks my heart and rips me in two to think about what she went through.

 I've seen her once in seven and a half years.  That was a shock. I had seen a picture of her or I wouldn't have recognized her. She was not my little girl any more. She had grown a foot, so that I had to look up at her--a young woman.  I just wanted to sit and stare at her, to never let her out of my sight again.  I watched her, looking for signs that the little girl I once knew was in there, the spunky child.

 I haven't heard anything from my middle son in over three years.  We went to SuperCross with relatives recently, and their two fourteen year old boys. The boys were still young and innocent, dependent on their mother, bonded with her.  She brought blankets for the boys to the stadium, even though they said they didn't need them (they were looking cool in their stylish clothes)--but they ended up bundled up under layers of blankets.  I remember my son being that way, needing me still, just beginning to separate and form his own identity.  And then having no mother. Gone.  The last communication with him was very angry.  He responded to a letter I sent him.  I was trying to let him know that his dad violated court orders, that I always wanted to be in his life and his father wouldn't let me.  I stated that I had always shared legal custody.  He responded and said he was a legal adult now and I had no rights concerning him.  He told me I could fuck off. I don't have a phone number for him any longer.  I do send cards to him through his grandmother.  He never responds.

I feel like I've failed my children so much.  That I couldn't overcome their father--or something.  I don't know if overcome is the word. I do feel my kids felt they had to chose their dad.  I cheated on their father.  He was wronged.  And then he cut me out of their lives.  And they felt like I abandoned them.  I don't blame them.  I wish I could fix it all.  I wish I could fix their pain. I hoped so much I wouldn't be writing this anymore.  That my children and I would be reunited.  That the pain of missing years would melt away and be healed.  But it's not.

I do have my oldest son back in my life.  It is because he has Autism and Epilepsy and is not yet independent. His dad decided he was moving out of state with his new wife and their two young children.  He told my oldest, who was living with him, it would be best if he did not come. My son was going to live with his grandmother.  He has been close to her, my ex's mother--all these years, all three of my kids have.  I think she largely stepped in to fill my role.  She said he could live with her if he had a job.  But by summer he still didn't have a job and his dad was moving in a few months, so at her urging he agreed to see me.  We had been talking a little for several years already, but he was reluctant to see me. Now he lives with me part of the time and part of the time at his grandma's.  It is such a relief to get to be with my son again. It also brings up a lot of sadness for all the missing years that have gone by.  He is a young man now, not a teenager.  He is more set in his ways.  There is some hardness there... that is slowly softening and giving way.  And the huge gaping hole in my heart isn't quite so big.