I’m in such a fog.
You didn’t show up at my door. You don’t love me. You don’t love them. I never really expected you to, but I always hope. Why do I always hope? I would always hope that you would surprise me and come home early. Little did I know you were with her. I would always hope that you would bring me home a present. I would always hope that you would send something in the mail. I would always hope that you would call me. I would always hope that you would answer your phone even when I knew you wouldn’t. I always hoped you would come back to me. Even now when I gave you a deadline. When I hated you more than I ever had I still hoped. I hoped you would do the right thing. Why do I always hope? It always breaks me heart. No matter how much I try not to hope, I know it’s bad news to hope, I do it anyways.
I need to remind myself constantly that there is no more hope. You did not show up for your family.
I’ve felt so much grief today. So much sadness. Distress. I just want to curl up in a ball and cry. My chest hurts from the stress. How am I going to survive?
That still small voice came this morning. I must forgive.
How can I forgive? I must. I can’t live with this hate, this grief, this disgust for you or her. I must somehow learn to forgive once again.
I can start by remembering the good. The good will help me forgive.
A facebook quote…”Don’t fall for someone who won’t catch you.”…yeah that lesson is learned.
Remember going to the cottage for Christmas a few years ago? Christmas isn’t going to be the same anymore.
But remember that? The beautiful water on the beach. You and papa running away from the waves with your two year old?
Remember being in the town square on our anniversary dancing to Party Rock Anthem? The car ride after?
Sitting at the table with the family?
Exploring the area?
It was fabulous. I thought we were going to do it again?
Remember…it’s hard to think of another memory…when you drew that bath for me the one night in the big house? Just you and me?
Do you remember me whooping your butt at the card game magic? Watching you build a fire? Going off roading in the truck? Building gingerbread houses? Playing halo together…with my “awesome” skills. Those darn walls always got in my way.
Remember the birth of our daughter? How exhausting it was? But we did it together. You fell asleep holding my leg. ha ha. That’s not a bad memory. It’s a funny one.
Remember me hitting you as you facebooked our second child’s labor? Another good memory. You helping me off the toilet and run to the bed so she wasn’t born in the toilet?
Our little man was born. You were there for me more than you ever were. You gave me a card after. It said something like, “I love you and am so proud to call you my wife. I promise to do everything I can to show you how much I love.”
That was a lie. A lie.
You were excited for our future the day we flew out.
There are good memories and I will forgive you. I will forgive you. If Jesus forgave me I can forgive you and I will.
My life is going to be ok. Actually it will turn out great. I will get out of this fog. It will be ok.