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Dear Soon-To-Be-Ex (though not soon enough)

16 Jul

****Disclaimer – this is very full of raw emotion, and may not sit well with many.  Please do not judge me, I am venting and feel the need to put it all down in words.****

Regarding your uninvited visit to my home last night,

First, the next time you come storming out onto my deck ordering me around, “we need to talk” be forewarned that I very well may get out of my chair and slap you straight out of your shoes.   You lost the right to tell me anything the day you announced you were filing for divorce, and especially the right to tell me what to do, or even what you think I should do.  Feel free to call ahead and ask if we can talk, but be prepared for me to ignore you or tell you to go to hell.  In other words do not expect a warm fuzzy reception to the idea of seeing you or talking to you.

You seemed so perplexed when you asked me why I have such hatred toward you, I guess  you thought I’d be a sobbing mess wanting to work it out like I was the first few weeks after the big announcement?  Perhaps you expected me to send you flowers and candy and be over joyed with my sudden freedom? Perhaps you really do need your head examined because you obviously are off your rails.

I never had the pleasure of being a stay at home mom though it was my dream and you knew that.  You on the other hand were home a good portion of our childrens growing up years while I worked and supported our family.  While many of those years it simply was the logical choice as I had a great paying job and medical insurance and could pull in a larger income than you.  It also would have meant paying for daycare if you worked so it was silly for you not to be home.  Then for many years while you were down and broken from, lets see I think it was about 15 surgeries, I continued to work and provide a roof over our family’s heads.  Throughout those years you were sleep deprived from the pain you were in physically, and a flaming, wrap around grumpy asshole from the pain medications.  They were far from happy years but when we took our vows, “for better or worse, richer or poorer,  in sickness and in health” well silly me I took those quite seriously. It was worse, poorer and sickness all rolled into one big miserable experience, but I loved you and hung in there.

At some point in the midst of that I decided that going to college and getting a degree would help me to pull in a better income so I left the house every day at 6am and didn’t get home until 10pm 4 days a week and sometimes was in class on Saturdays, trying to hold down a full time job and get my education.  While I am busting my ass to improve our situation you are on Adult Friend Finder advertising for a daytime or evening playmate on days when your wife is in class, exchanging very graphic emails and meeting these ladies for lunch in search of a few booty buddies.  Bad form, dear king of the swine, really bad form.  And yet despite that, all uncovered while my mother is fighting breast cancer and my grandmother dies, I like a fool forgave you and tried to get past it all.   Is it really any wonder, under that kind of stress, I went off one night in an angry rage and told you that I wished you like your friend, Tim, that had died and were rotting in hell? Seriously did you not grasp the pain I was in from your betrayal???  But I loved you and figured that we’d hit about as ‘worse’ as it could get.

When your friend, Brian, died fighting a fire, it rocked your foundation AND mine.  My worst fear in this world was losing you in your chosen profession.   It hit a bit close to home and it really messed with my head and I know it messed badly with yours.  I’d hear sirens when you were on duty and sometimes get physically ill from the worry.

Then a few months later I lost my job.  You are picking up the slack, working more hours than ever, and I’m growing very discouraged trying to find a new job.  My stress level is on the ceiling and you wonder why, in a drunk rage I again said something I regretted and always will?

The one good thing in being jobless for 18 months was the amount of time I was able to finally spend with our daughter.  I was at last given some time to be a stay at home mom and bond with my last child, and I treasured those days.

I loved our house, loved everything that was done to improve it.  I often sat and looked around me counting my blessings, having such a neat house, and things like a pool and hot tub.  It isn’t a palace but it was ours, and our home was so my haven.  And I loved you more than you could ever know.  It isn’t news, I told you that even after 22 years I still got butterflies in my stomach when I heard you come home, your touch still felt like electricity to me.  I felt like the luckiest woman in the world to have you, our home and our kids.

Then out of no where you took all of that from me.  I lost you, the single most important person in the world to me,  lost living with my daughter before she finally is on her own with her own home, and lost MY home, my haven, and had to move out.  My future and my dreams of US.  Everything that was dear and priceless to me was taken away from me by you and destroyed, leaving me emotionally and mentally shattered.  And you seriously have to ask me where all this anger and hatred towards you comes from?  It is a fine line between love and hate I hear, and I can relate to that now. The love turns to hate because it is how the heart coats itself from the intense, pure, raw pain that burns deeper than anything I ever could have imagined experiencing.  And seeing you parading around town with your 26yo girlfriend is salt in those open wounds.

That, oh you clueless fool, is why I am so angry and so full of rage toward you.


Dear Grandpa

4 Jul

Dear Grandpa,

It is July 4th, which means a day of family, something I know you always enjoyed so much.  I can hardly believe you have been gone almost 14 years now, it seems like just yesterday you called on my birthday.  I know you loved holidays because 4 generations of the family would come together and celebrate.  We are carrying on the tradition now that you and grandma are gone, but it just isn’t the same.

I miss you asking about my kids, how  they were doing and marveling at their progress.  You’d be so proud, Mike did master the Highland bagpipes shortly after you left us, and made it on to the sheriff’s department.  His  career is 8 years long already, and you’d beam I’m certain as much as I do when he is in uniform.  And I  know you’d pray every day for his safety as much as I do too.  Liesl’s love of animals  has taken her on to college and into the Veterinarian Tech. program, kind of vet nurses.  She loves her job at the animal  clinic and is  on the dean’s list every term.

The day we buried you I had determined to be so strong…then in the back of church Liesl looked up at me, deaths reality finally hitting her 6 year old mind and she said, “mommy, he is never coming back again is he?” through her tears.  Flood gates open,  so much for staying strong. I so wished Michael had been ready to play the pipes then.  He played them at Grandma’s though, the first great grandchild escorting her out of the church,  I  know you would have approved.

On Christmas Eve I miss you in the Santa hat, handing out gifts to the many gathered together to celebrate.  We still gather but again, it just doesn’t feel quite the same without you there.

I think the thing I miss most is you sharing your knowledge and encouraging me to be the best person I can be in spite of my circumstances.  I taught my kids the things you taught me, like if you don’t have anything nice to say it isn’t necessary to say anything at all.  I  have no idea if it is where you first heard it, but after seeing it in the movie, Bambi,  I started  calling it the Thumper rule.  I also taught them not to judge others and to always give the benefit of the doubt.  I always knew I could come to you with any problem I was having and you’d have advice and wisdom to share that  when pondered would help.

I am SO missing you right now, and wish so much I could have just 10 minutes with you again to ask  for your knowledge.  My heart is in so many pieces and while I do have mostly great days and focus on the silver lining in the storm clouds currently swirling in my life, there are just those times when I wonder, “what would Fred say?” and  I try to imagine.  I sometimes go to the cemetery and just sit by your stone and talk to you, wishing you could hear and answer.  I know I will get through this, I am your granddaughter and my mother’s daughter, it is what we do.  I just wish so much you were here  to talk too.  Oh and I know you’d get a huge kick out of the Diva Den/Princess Palace and completely give your blessing to us women in the family pulling together to take care of each other this way.

I will always be thankful for the special relationship that we had because I was the first grandchild and we shared a birthday.  I will always be thankful you were here with us for so long, in sound mind and body until the end, that my children had the rare blessing of knowing their great-grandparents.  We’re back to 3 generations on holidays, but soon enough one of the great-grandkids will have children of their own and I know from somewhere up above you’ll lean over to Grandma and say “look what we started”.

I never thought it could still hurt so much after so long, and yet here I am in tears again that you are gone.

I miss you, Grandpa.

*photo credit: Salvatore Vuono –

**This blog was inspired by writing prompt #31 from Mama Kat**

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