Missing

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I woke up this morning with that dull ache that comes from missing someone. I wasn’t surprised to feel that void – Brock is out of town, I don’t see family much and most of my local friends have a different spring break this year. But the ache wasn’t for any of those people. It was for my ex mother in law.

I got to know my mother in law well over the 16 years I was with her son. She and I even lived together for a couple weeks while the men were away at work. She was a good woman with a giving heart. I always felt a little sorry for her, however. She was always a bit timid. A bit weak. Uncomfortable in her own skin. Almost missing in her own life.

She had a great relationship with her father yet allowed her adult life to be limited by her complicated relationships with her mother and siblings. She was afraid. Of driving. Of crowds. Of new experiences. Of being alone. That last one is probably what kept her in the relationship with her husband, even as his drinking grew out of control and his personality became more abrasive.

She was a caring parent, yet a distant one. She wanted the best for her son, an only child, yet wasn’t always equipped to help him achieve it. She didn’t want to pass her insecurities on to him and she worked hard to avoid that.

My ex had a complicated relationship with his parents as we moved into adulthood. He went long periods without contact, even though they moved to Atlanta along with us and ended up settling two streets over. His tough love approach seemed to work; they stopped drinking at some point. Even then, he didn’t always maintain contact. I’m not sure why, but I always let him be the one to decide how much contact he wanted. After all, they were his parents.

The last time I spoke to his mom was on the phone a couple weeks after he left. He had been arrested for the bigamy and spent a day in jail until his father posted his bail. He was alone that night. He had been caught. His other wife, upon learning the truth, had left him and his computers and car were impounded. He had nothing. He tried to end it all that day, taking an overdose of sleeping pills. Through a very unlikely series of events (serendipity?), my parents and I ended up saving his life.

The next day, I learned from the police that his parents were coming up from Atlanta to pick him up from the hospital. I called them, wanting to reach out and give them any information that I thought might help their son. I wanted them to understand how much help he really needed. I talked to his mom for over an hour. She was in shock. Like with everyone else in our lives, the reality of his double identity stunned her. They just wanted to get their boy home and figure out what to do from there.

We hung up when they arrived at the hospital. She said she would call me back. She never did.

I can’t even fathom the terror and pain of a parent upon discovering that their child is in crisis and a criminal all with one phone call. I worried about her. I still do. At the courthouse, 8 months later, his father was there, stoic and silent, but his mother was noticeably absent. I hope she missing only because she was afraid to face the court, a fear I can easily relate to, but I don’t know.

His parents took him in for a time after the suicide attempt. I don’t know what he told them or what he did, but I’m afraid that they were a victim of his cons as well. I know of one defaulted credit card with a very high balance that had her name on it as well, as it was taken out before he was 18.  I hope they were able to protect themselves even as they tried to help him.

This morning, I missed her. I thought about when we sat on her living room floor, looking through his baby pictures. I thought of her trying out Puerto Rican bread pudding recipes, trying to nail down her father’s favorite childhood dish. I remember her coming in to my first “regular” job at a pet store and immediately falling in love with a young Papillon. I placed the dogs in her arms to handle a customer; she always blamed me for her decision to purchase the puppy:)  I remembered her stories of her early married life in California and the stories of her parent’s courtship. I remembered when she sewed a liner into the white bikini I had foolishly purchased and when she emergency-hemmed my wedding dress in the back of the restaurant where we had our reception dinner.

I miss her. I just hope she isn’t missing from her own life.

The Secret Keepers

Posted on by stilllearning2b

secrets

My ex husband came from an alcoholic family. And if there is one thing alcoholic families excel at, it’s keeping secrets.

My ex learned his role from a young age. He didn’t discuss his parents with others. He didn’t invite his friends over to his house. He learned how to keep a low profile and stay out of the line of fire. He learned not to have expectations of his parents and how to survive on his own. He learned to shut his door and shut his mouth.

I thought he could overcome his family.

I was brought into the inner folds of the family within a few short months of dating. He told me the stories of his dad passed out on the couch or drunk at his birthday party. I received a call when his dad was taken by ambulance to the emergency room due to excessive alcohol consumption. He relayed the tales of his mom, weeping and emotional, turning to her son for support in the middle of the night. I saw the endless rum and cokes. I witnessed the change in his parents as they drank to hide their pain. I perceived the unsaid behind the silences.

I still thought he could overcome his family.

When I helped his mom rearrange the living room, she showed me his baby pictures which we had unearthed. I learned some of the family secrets. I discovered that his father had been married before and had technically committed bigamy, since the divorce from wife number one was not yet final. I learned of his father’s disgraceful exit from the military and equally disgraceful exit from what was a very prestigious career. I heard about the mismanagement of money and how they went from earning six figures to living in a crumbling house in a undesirable area.

I still thought he could overcome his family.

My ex husband strove to separate himself from his parents. He was determined not to make their mistakes. He looked to the Boy Scouts to be his surrogate parents. He made friends and joined their families. He was driven to succeed and to escape his lineage. He lived in fear of turning into his father.

I still thought he could overcome his family.

He may not have kept the family secrets from me, but he still applied those lessons to other areas. There was an incident at scout camp shortly before we started dating. An incident that left several long ropey parallel scars across his lower back. He never did reveal what happened. I actually looked for familiar names and locations on the recently released list of scout leaders that had been convicted of sexual crimes. Nothing stood out. But I wonder…

I still thought he could overcome his family.

But apparently those lessons of silence and secrets were too embedded. The skill set just waiting in the wings until the right moment came along. When he began to struggle during our marriage (with money, alcohol, depression, employment…who knows?), his reflexes kicked in and he covered it up. He kept silent and he kept secrets. And through those secrets, he turned his biggest fear into reality. He became his father.

I wish that he had been able to overcome his family. And I hope that it is not too late for him. I hope that he is able to see the truth and no longer be compelled to keep it a secret.

 

You Win Some When You Lose Some: A Father’s Day Tribute

Posted on by stilllearning2b
Ice skating with dad

Three years ago next month, I lost my husband. Three years ago next month, I gained a father.

My parent’s divorce occurred when I was in elementary school. My dad then relocated across the country shortly after I turned 11. We did not see much of each other for the rest of my childhood or throughout my twenties. In fact, we didn’t really know each other.

Three years ago next month, I went to visit my dad for the first time in several years. I think we were both a little nervous, as were trying to learn the choreography of our adult relationship. I was with him when I received the text that ended my marriage. In that instant, I gained a father in the truest sense of the word.

With no hesitation, I became his little girl again. He moved into action immediately, doing what he could . He held my hand for the endless trip back to Atlanta, not even letting go when he drifted off to sleep on the plane. He made the phone calls I couldn’t and stayed in the house with the dogs when I wasn’t able. He cried with me and cursed with me. He hurt with me and he healed with me.

Three years ago next month, I gained a father. A guide. A cheerleader. A mentor. A friend.

Sometimes, it takes a loss to realize what you have. You win some when you lose some. Dad, I’m glad I won you:)

And Tiger’s looking forward to your visit too!

Tiger is excited to meet his granddaddy!