I ache sometimes

My chest hurts. I’m not having a heart attack or anything. I just ache.

As I relayed yesterday, things have been stressful. Clearly, there’s a lot going on. And everything is changing. Changing so fast my head is spinning and half the time I don’t know where I’m going or how I’m going to get there.

I ache when I look at my kids, and My Mom and My Zen Master. Because I love them so much I feel like my heart is trying to beat it’s way through my sternum and out of my chest.

I ache when I look around my house because I know nothing will ever be the same.

I ache when I wake up crying or screaming in the night because I’ve had yet another sad or scary dream about my father.

I ache when The Zen Master looks at me with sadness in his eyes because when I hurt, he hurts and he just wants to make it better.

I ache when My Mom cries because her life is gone and she has to start all over again.

I ache when she tries with all her might to be calm and polite when he yells at her on the phone and then hangs up on her.

I ache because we’ve lost other people in our lives. We can’t go to his church anymore. Things are strained and awkward with family friends. Terry, who’s become a brother to me, and was going to come live with us when he got out, even Terry is difficult to talk to now.

I ache because… well, because I ache. Because I wake up in the morning and I feel like an old woman because my hip and my shoulder and my jaw still hurt.

I ache because it isn’t fair. To any of us, even him. Because he’s lost us too. And one day he will understand the gravity of that and it will hurt. And I honestly don’t want that.

And I ache for him. For My Daddy. Because I miss him. And he’s gone. He killed My Daddy that day and it will never be the same. Even if he ever forgives me (yes, because he just knows that what happened was all my fault), if we ever come to some sort of reconciliation (which is looking less and less likely right now), if that happens? I will still never be able to be alone in a room with him and feel safe. I will never be able to see his hand lift, even if it were for a handshake, without flinching. He is still my father and he will always be, and no matter how he treats me, or ignores me, or is mean to My Mom, I will still always love him. Unless he hurt my babies, cuz then all bets are off. But I don’t think he’d ever do that. But then again, it never occurred to me that he was even capable of what he did to me. But I still worry about him, bouncing around alone in that huge house, stewing in his anger at the injustice of it all.

I ache because I’m angry and sad and I’m still scared. And I don’t want any of that.

I don’t want to ache anymore.


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