Jul 14, 2008

Prayer chains

Daughter, crying herself to sleep, again
empty voicemail messages to her missing mother

Andrea's singing plays in the background as they struggle into dreams,
Dreams that I hope will turn out good.

Rage turns to disgust and then to emptiness.

I stroke her hair softly and Lauren holds her hand as her body shudders in tears.

Nothing can replace a parent who disappears without explaining why to their children.

I can see the scars on my daughters heart, forming and reforming. I try to stop them, but I can't.

Someone else might not understand.
I do.
Got my own scarred heart to prove it.

I'd do anything to prevent it happening to my daughters. My wife would too.

Their mom is.... broken.

And everytime she gets close to repairing herself, she throws herself back off a new cliff to shatter herself anew.

Everyone's got a hobby. Hers is seeing just how close to self-destruction she can get without ever going over the edge completely. Of course, meanwhile, this involves lots of drugs, angst, and self-absorbtion.

I'd kill the bitch myself if I thought it would help.

It wouldn't.

But it would sure be nice to visit some form of retribution on the person who causes my children- HER CHILDREN- a constant stream of pain.

Times like this brings a man to prayer-
I have lots of prayers. Some humble, some hopeful.
Never vain, never selfish. I've got NO belief in a god that aids the shallow.

And I've not much more faith in any prayer of hope.

I've got a prayer of wrath, though.
Only a fool would desire it.

But when you hurt someone's children, the deep, torturous way that she has, it does something awful to a person's soul.

So, my one prayer, the one I don't believe in but desperately desire -is this-

I pray for hell.

I pray for a hell to exist-

a Hell that WILL give some Old testament justice to the parents who abandon their children.

If hell exists, believe me, I'll burn as well, I'm sure - for a thousand simple travesties and a million outright sins. I'd take my eternal damnation in a minute, though- just to know Andrea would be there too- burning for what she did to our kids.

I have lots of prayers.

Some humble, some hopeful.

But seeing those tears in Amy's eyes when she cries for her mother- there's only one prayer in my bible.

All she has to do is make one call to a little girl. But, as with most of the world's miserable bastards, even the simplest gesture is too much.. .


betmo said...

trust me- i know. my dad is still an alcoholic. hugs to you and yours.

Anonymous said...

It hurts watching your babies hurt. Hurts worse to be completely unable to heal their hurt. I believe, and you know this, that everything happens for a reason. Those reasons aren't always painless, however.

Some day, the girls will understand. But It will never stop hurting. What gives me comfort is knowing that even though their mother is gone, they have a Mommy that loves them very much and will never harm them or forsake them. Lauren cannot remove thier pain, but I'm sure that she shows them a mother's love. They are not completely without. So remember, while they hurt, that there are TWO healing hearts right there with them, that will love them unconditionally.

It's ok to be bitter, ok to be hateful. But don't let those little diamonds see it. I think that you have the ability to teach either resentment or forgiveness here. Chose wisely, my friend. Those are both qualitys that will shape the characters of your children. Take the high road, teach them better than we were taught.

Yes, they miss her. Yes, it hurts. But Andrea is not required for you to raise two happy, successful women. Don't let her hamper it, either.

old hack said...

sounds like a selby novel...

C.J. said...

(((((HUGS))))) to your baby girls.

Anonymous (above) is very wise. A loving step-parent CAN replace your ex. Your girls will make it through with two loving parents. Andrea is the one who will ultimately lose out.

Bustednuckles said...

Been there.
My mom finally drank herself to death five days before my twentieth birthday, twenty eight years ago.
Know what?
I still miss her.
That's fucked up,
but, she was my mother.

I have no words of wisdom, I am lucky I out lived her, just sincere empathy.