You do not know this, but this month, every year (and today in particular) I generally spend in something of a melancholic funk. Most of it has to do with this tragedy, echoing from “then” through to “now”, not yet resolved, and the lingering soreness of mind and being in relation to it. I suppose it is natural to mark life by such milestones as this, but I am at times weary for the weight of all these years and all these stones.
I do not spent as much time as I used to upon hankering after the “what if’s” of it all; I count this as progress albeit along a continuum that always seems to have far more ahead than it actually does. Thoughts of “finding better, someday” are fading more than I hoped and this, too, feels sorrowful and sad. The pragmatic side of me huffs, “Stop doing this to yourself; you know it’s a form of clinging and attachment that is creating suffering for you.” Meanwhile, the part of me that misses all the things I was hoping time and distance might make more possible ‘here and now’ (or perhaps more accurately, ‘by now’) is still coming to grips with the reality that there is little I can do in the face of resentment and anger that is demanding a level of accountability that rightfully belongs elsewhere.
I mean, I accepted that my choice would cause misunderstanding and resentment and anger. I accepted that long ago. I knew that the intervening years would be a very one-sided story that I wouldn’t have opportunity to address until… someday. I accepted that as requisite and, more specifically, I accept even to this day that I am both accountable and responsible for the act of departure; there is no denying that I did so. The part you miss, is that I thought (and still think, despite these outcomes) that the benefits delivered to the you, the one who needed them most, were more important than my need to have what I wanted. (This was made far easier by the realization that, so long as I was in the frame, it was clearly demonstrated that neither would be possible.)
What benefits? A peaceful life. A life uninterrupted by the constant fighting. A life free of the machinations and manipulations you were enduring. My absence put to an abrupt end to all of that; this much you know as well as I do. While I understand you may not remember enough to know how truly awful it was, you cannot say that your life without me present was anything but usual, normal, and free of that manner of conflict.
Was I naive to assume you would not think I didn’t care? Obviously, quite so. Was I naive to think they would stop enforcing and reinforcing their version of reality? I suppose this too, goes without saying. Was I naive to think you could possibly know how untrue it was? Yes, I am guilty as charged. A more horribly naive 23 year old you cannot possibly have imagined. Admitted, accepted, and acknowledged.
I dislike thinking I could be so wrong about it all, even as it is clearly the case. I also dislike thinking there is no way to truly get past it unless I’m willing to take on some kind of responsibility for not being there to contest the horrible things given as “truth”, particularly when it was made impossible for there to be any other choice unless I wanted it all to devolve into some awful, Jerry-Springerish mess of non-stop litigation and increasingly ugly encounters. (I do often wonder if you truly understand why I did this, or if you bothered to read those court records. Forgive me, but I admit… I doubt it.)
I will never say it was ok for that active poisoning to take place. Nor that putting so much behind effort to “get rid of me” was acceptable. There was no reason for it except that they wanted me out, gone, and were quite willing to do whatever it took, regardless its effect on you. I will never say that was right. Never. Nor will I say that this obviously careful reinforcement of that lie as reality was or is alright. Never. Though I will say that it only goes all the more to prove that I did what had to be done; it was necessary to ensure there was peace, and a normal life for you. I did it at both of our expenses, but with the hope that “some day” it could all be explained and you would understand that the lies given to you were so, so very untrue.
That time is not here yet. I do not know if it ever will be here. What I do know is that I didn’t give up then, I haven’t given up now, and I likely never will give up….. not on this…. not ever.
So I suppose here, at the end of this piece, in spite of what I know it will mean for me, I hold it all the closer – cradle it – and wait….. as long as it takes. You see, some things in life are worth far more than giving up on; this is definitely one of them…. You are definitely one of them.
I am sorrier than you will ever know that there doesn’t seem to be any way to “prove” this to you. I’m even sorrier that I cannot afford to take the blame for the way that those who raised you allowed you to continue thinking such things. I’m sorry I could not be there, but I’m not sorry that I wasn’t… because what you believe today only proves that had I been there, it would have been exactly what I expected; more ugliness, more fighting, and you, innocent as you were and are, stuck in the middle.
I’m ok with you blaming me for not being there. You’re right, I wasn’t. But until you really understand why, you can never understand how it is that I wasn’t there for all the right reasons…. or why it is that I’m ok with that aspect of your resentment and anger so long as you (eventually) find the way to channel what is not mine to bear back to its rightful home, or, more hopefully, into the ether so you can finally be completely free of it.
It did NOT have to be this way. I am sorrier than you will ever know that this is the way it is at present. But neither of us have to be slaves to that warped past. I am more than ready for something better and, when you are, you know where to find me. I will be here until the day I die and that, my beloved son, is so much more than a promise, it is an oath.