OK…Fine. I lied.

Dear Dan,

I said I wouldn’t write to you here again, but breaking promises doesn’t seem to be a big deal to you.

I drove to Texas this past week. The amount of pressure here was more than I could simply bear alone. Texas is home and my heart pulled me home for a moment. 10 hours on the road gave me plenty of time to reflect. I was walking around the house and everything around here is you. No matter what I looked at there was a memory. Some good. Some bad. I couldn’t stand the look of your presence anymore. I needed to run from the heaviness.

Here is what I have worked out though…

Now that you are gone and those left behind are gathered in memory of you, You will always be apart of this life, as I look into the eyes of your baby girls.

The thing that makes this the hardest on me is there is no resolution before you closed the chapter out and you didn’t tell me that this was “The End”

We never know where this life will take us and we never know when death is going to force us to say “Goodbye”

As I drove back into Nashville, I could feel the weight of you come back into the vehicle with me. For a moment I pulled over on the side of the road.

I looked into the glaring lights of Nashville looming in front of me and the darkness closing through my rear view window. I hadn’t cried much since your funeral because I’ve been too busy wiping the tears from your children to break myself. My throat began to grow thick and my eyes burned. I shook my head in denial of letting the pain come. I don’t feel you deserve my tears and my own guilt that I carry tells me I don’t deserve to cry out in anger and abandonment. I pushed it all back.

I pulled back onto the road and drove the rest of the way home until I turned on our exit to home. This put me directly in front of the hospital where you died by your own selfishness. I saw the hospital helicopter coming in for a landing and I broke down.

I was right back to the moment that I saw it land wandering if you were going to be placed on it. Wondering if they were going to get you down into Nashville and save you. Wondering if in mere days the children would be gathered around your hospital bed loving you and encouraging you to come home soon. Wondering if you would be looking at me from your hospital bed with your self inflicted wounds and would cry and tell me how sorry you were to scare us and that you now knew for certain what you had to live for. I would have held your hand and agreed. You had so much to live for.

I had paced back and forth waiting for them to bring you out and put you on that helicopter. You never came. You finished the book of your life you were writing in the ER and wrote “The End” and I never knew. I was pacing, waiting and you were gone.

I waited until the helicopter lifted off and got out of the car while the children were sleeping. I watched it turned towards Nashville and I fell to my knees at the side of the road. The wracking sobs I finally released. Your book wasn’t finished. Annie starts her first year of school tomorrow. You should be here to see her excitement. To watch her leave my arms and begin a new journey. You should be here to see this chapter. It has taken me weeks of sleepless nights to understand what true pain is. Pain is not being able to understand the agony of our hearts. It’s not enough that you are simply gone and its too much that you are gone forever. The pain is reminding me though that this is not the end. I wish you had seen your own pain that way. Pain is healing coming through tears. I know I must endure it. I know I must encourage the children to embrace their pain and allow the healing to come.

I mourned the loss of our marriage a long time ago. Now I mourn the loss of resolution and answers. I know material things within the house will remind me of you and my heart is willing to see it and accept it. I know the dark black color of your children’s eyes that were passed onto them by you, will always remind me of you. I’m ready to let you go now and write “The End” even without having a conclusion or an answer. You will always live through these children and I will do everything to encourage them to take paths in this life that guide them through the storms of this life and look for the blessings that are theirs. I will fight against the feelings that will come up in them; as they have in me; that they were simply not good enough. As Father’s Day passes, as there is nobody there to walk them down the aisle, as there is nobody to hold them tenderly in a Father/Daughter dance…I will never let them believe that your choice was because you didn’t think those things were worth living for.

I will trust that the end chapter of your book had a purpose and I am willing to pen “The End.”



Categories: Uncategorized

11 replies

  1. {{{Hugs}}} Alycia. I so wish I lived closer so I could give you a hand. 😥

    • The most wonderful hug came for me today from you. I wept as I buried my face in the small knots that must have taken hours as your weaved that just for me. I felt your love, your prayers and your friendship. As I opened that soft parcel and my fingers touched each spun inch, I felt blessed.
      I love you. Thank you for my gift.,

  2. Alycia, my heart breaks for you.
    Imagine that I am hugging you. Prayers.

  3. These letters have taken on a life of their own. Through your words I have felt the pain, the joy, the tears, and that burning question that continues to nag you. Sometimes dear one, sometimes there is no discernable answer… sometimes the question is all that is left once the dust settles. Keep your head and your faith and what comes next comes next. Life happens and you must find that path that best fits you and your children. Be well and be strong… we believe in you.

    lakestalker

    • Thank you Lakestalker,
      I can count on your time here in my comments to be understanding and comforting without trying to tell me platitudes. Time #10

  4. So sorry for what you’re going through. My thoughts & prayers are with you & your girls. I’m a Nash girl too. Email me if you need to talk.

  5. I am glad you went home. I think of you every day. You are in my prayers, Keep going Keep going

    • I am going and going and going and…..well, I don’t have much of a choice, but I am convinced that there is that silver lining waiting to be found as in my last piece for you.

  6. I love you girlie. Think about you often and can’t imagine what you’re going thru, but I do know you will be healed! The hurt may never completely go away, but the wound itself will be healed in time. Still praying and still here if you need me. Hope your trip went well and the girls had a good time away too.

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