I miss him this morning, although I’m not sure why. Mornings were never good when he was alive. As soon as my eyes opened, I was aware of the tension in the air. It was thick and weighed heavily on me. It was always better when he woke up before I did. Waking him was like pulling a pin from a grenade…something was about to go off and you’d better take cover. But, if I didn’t wake him, he’d sleep late and be angry that I let him do it. It was a lose/lose situation.
I have real serenity in my life now. I’m a little scared because I have two loose ends, legally speaking, to tie up, but I feel that I can face them just fine. They are only technicalities and, if I can’t take care of them, myself, that’s what my attorney is for. There is no one here to make them seem monstrous or as though it’s the end of the world. I’m ok with the normal goings on of life. Paying bills…having to put them off and juggle finances. Normal things people do. He always made those things seem so frightening, as though they were insurmountable problems. He kept me so nervous that my hair was falling out. And I think he actually loved doing that to me.
In the end, his actions caused us to lose most of our material possessions. It was much more difficult for him because he grew up in a pampered, upper middle class, environment. I was not as fortunate, by any means. I suppose, for me, it was just like being picked up and sat back down right where I started in life. We were able to save this place…his family land…this little house. And that’s because of me, which is something he resented till the day he died. I discovered that after reading some things he had written to another woman about me and the situation. I never expected accolades for making sure this place stayed in the family. That’s a good thing, since there were none offered. lol! But to read the things he wrote…to see, in black and white, how he actually felt about me and his family land and such…it was literally a shock. To read outright lies he wrote to her about me hurt so much. I shouldn’t have read those things, but they were right there and I wanted to know, I guess. The way she responded to him…it was very sweet. She was very much on his side and I think she really loved him. I told him, over and over, I wanted him to find someone to make him happy…to have a life with. I was perfectly willing to leave here, as long as I got my share of the land. Which was only a fraction of it. I didn’t even want half. He passed up happiness with a woman he obviously cared for in order to make sure I ‘didn’t get one square inch’ of his property. Wow. And here I sit with all of it. Irony is a motherfucker. So is Karma.
Wow…I don’t know where all that came from. I guess I’m letting go a little more every day. I still cry every day, but not as much. And I realized weeks ago that I wasn’t grieving the man who died. I was grieving the man he once was…the man I loved and who loved me. I was grieving the best dad I ever saw and I’ll always be grateful that he was the man I had children with because I don’t think there was ever a better father. But there are no tears for that fucker who died.