A better day and happy kids, Halloween face painting and the most lovely
interaction between you and the kids today. The kids painted your face, Mitzi
painted your nails black, you laugh, pull scary faces and Monty play fights
with you. It’s natural, he doesn’t sulk, sit in the corner asking if it’s time
to go yet. He’s relaxed, hovers round you, does not avoid, not brimming with
tension and anger. He’s doing so well at the moment. He’s enjoying you as his
new kind of dad. Realising the things he can do with you, and although not
anything like it was before, he’s establishing a new relationship. Like he’s
stopped expecting you and blaming you for not springing back.
I think I have a lot to learn from our kids. Their acceptance, they deal
with it and move on. They are sad when they are sad, they miss you and they
know that, but they seem to have come to terms with you as a new person. Lola
follows Monty’s lead, she’s happier and relaxed around you too. Adored by his
sisters, Monty sets the precedent for how things are-whether he means to or
I’ve had not such a sad day today, because this afternoon was just easy
and lovely with all of us together. I suppose when there is such a gaping hole
inside, I have to look to replenish it with soul-food, the love of the kids,
the times together. I have to drink these times in.
It’s really replaced some of the hurt and anguish I feel by witnessing
Monty’s new acceptance. It’s pushed aside some of the grief and put back some
Tonight I sit with candles burning, lavender tea to sip. I look over the
photos of today, the laughter, the smiles, the interaction. I allow myself to
see that how it is at the moment, it’s not so bad…real joy can still be felt,
letting my loneliness and loss be replenished with a boy’s love for his dad.
How very special, how proud I am of them all, our kids.
For now it’s as it is, for always I’ll miss the man you were, but the
man you are now, I love abundantly and I’ll still never give up hope…
I know I’m not writing as much, I am sorry. I just can’t at the moment.
Monty was much better today, you got him in a ‘python lock’ and kissed
him, you both wrestled for a bit and he didn’t run off or avoid contact as he
usually does apart from a brief ‘hi dad’ and kiss hello. We managed to have a
really fun and chatty time together, and everyone was ok.
I give you your breakfast, I ask how many weetabix you want, you answer
me clearly ‘three please’. You grabbed your cup really well, I steady it a bit,
but it’s really come on, you have definitely made progress here. You hold your
head upright (with a gentle reminder) and bring your arm up steadily and almost
directly to your mouth. I am really impressed and I tell you how well you are
doing. You are genuinely pleased and I joke about what our marriage has come
to, life has come to when I am congratulating you on how well you can drink
your thickened cup of tea!
I am working on the tears, I have them under control a bit more now. But
the biggest thing at the moment is this gripping tight feeling I have that
starts at the top of my throat and descends to the middle of my chest. It’s
there constantly. It hurts a lot. It’s difficult to take my mind off it. It’s
full of memories of you. Of times that once were. It’s full of how you used to
love me, how you used to be the one who protected me. It’s full of not wanting
to let go, but knowing I have to. It’s full of the old you.
I need to go through this, I’m clear about that much. I have spent
thirteen months avoiding this. I just can’t anymore. i feel that in letting
myself have the most fearsome thoughts I could ever face, that you as you were
is gone, I will come to an acceptance of this new life, this new you.
Life as we shared it before is not. Life will be different.
I have to bring myself through onto this different life, and I feel I
owe it to the old life to acknowledge it and say farewell.
I don’t know how I am going to get through this pain I feel at the
moment, all I know is that I have to, so I will.