"Life always offers you a second chance, it's called tomorrow...the past cannot be changed, forgotten, edited, or can only be accepted."

Saturday, April 7, 2012

That movie I saw once

I haven’t posted in weeks…and I’ve gotten a lot of emails and comments since then. I haven’t been ignoring them, and I hope I haven’t lost any readers. Things have just been so busy and chaotic. Not to mention I’ve been really irritated with my father’s situation, and haven’t really wanted to talk about it. I know…weird. Me not wanting to babble forever.
                Anyways, a lot of people have been waiting for an update pertaining to my father’s court date. And unfortunately, I don’t have any real interesting information. His court date was rescheduled…again. I spent days trying to get ahold of his public defender to get more information…and after almost a week, and multiple temper tantrums to his secretary, she patched me through to him. I found out a lot more that I honestly didn’t know how to take. If my father is convicted, he’s looking at (at the LEAST) 8 years in prison. I’m not even going to go into how much time he COULD be sentenced to. And as much as I hate to be negative…I don’t think he’ll make it out of there. Even with only 8 years…at his age and with his health…that’s where he’ll be for the rest of his life.
                I’ve been thinking a lot about my life lately, and how the experiences with my father have shaped me. My mom put it really well the other day…we were talking about how sometimes it really feels like “why me?” Why were we put in such a terrible situation? Even if God wanted us to learn something by it…wasn’t there some “less dramatic” way to teach us? She said that after thinking like that for a while, she realized that maybe he wasn’t in our lives to help us grow…but we were in his life to try and help him learn. He had everything, a beautiful wife, a beautiful daughter (if I do say so myself)…and he chose to screw it up. He chose other things over this perfectly packaged family right in front of him. And then he did it again and again…with every new woman he was with. He had the chance at being in the lives of 3 wonderful kids…and it didn’t mean enough to him. God was giving him chances to get on the right path…and he continuously walked away from it.
                That was strangely calming. But at the same time it made me sad. I hate my father sometimes…with everything in me. Occasionally I get so mad at him that I just want to drive the 13 hours to the jail and scream at him endlessly. But then there are other times where I just feel bad. I feel terrible that my father is most likely going to die in a jail cell. Granted he deserves it…and everything else coming to him…but it’s sad. It hurts me knowing how he must feel sometimes. Looking back with a sober mind (as sober as it gets)…and seeing the path of wreckage he left in so many lives. Knowing that he wasn’t there for my wedding, graduations, and will never meet my children. Knowing that he’s missing out on my little brother and sister’s firsts. I’m rambling on something completely off topic again…
                I have a lot of questions now that things are at a bit of a stand still. Court isn’t going to be rescheduled until this fall…meaning I have a lot of time to think. Lately I’ve been really curious as to his mindset. He’s started attacking my little sister just like he attacked me…and while I know he’s completely bat crazy…I have to wonder what goes on in his head. He says that his children are his world…and the only things that he’s ever worried about. But I wonder how that can possibly be true when he treats us as he does. I know drugs are addicting, I know mental disorders are overwhelming…but I can’t see myself EVER choosing something over my family like that. Especially my children. I can be mean…I can be downright cruel sometimes…but if I ever am…it haunts me. And I could never do something to intentionally hurt someone I loved.
                I’m really overtired at the moment. I’ve been working two jobs…70-80+ hours a week…and the exhaustion makes me really emotional and confused. I overthink things and second guess myself. I go from wanting to scream at him, to feeling bad…to wanting to cry for hours. This still doesn’t seem real. It’s been 14 months…and I still feel like I’m reading some screwed up thriller novel. I replay the morning I found out in my head constantly…and it’s like I’m watching it from someone else’s body. Opening credits to a young girl sleeping on the couch, getting irritated by the phone that keeps ringing. Finally waking up to read a message, respond, and roll over…grasping to those last few minutes of sleep. The phone chirps again…and again…and again…until she finally sits up extremely frustrated, and still half asleep. You watch her face go from confusion…to almost panic…to confusion again. She stumbles over to the other side of the couch, and pulls open the computer, still half asleep. Types something into the search bar of the internet, and looks away to stretch and try to fully open her eyes. She turns back to the computer and scrolls down the opening page still looking confused…until she freezes. You see the color completely drain out of her face, her hands start to shake, and you watch her knees give out. She struggles to breathe normally…until the choking breaths just turn to sobs. You see her husband come into the room, just as confused as she had been…and looking half asleep too. She points at the computer unable to speak…and you watch his face go from concerned, to angry. The scene closes to him holding her on the floor as she sobs.
                That’s how I see that morning. I don’t remember my own emotions to be honest. I just remember thinking how it couldn’t possibly be real. That mugshot on the front page couldn’t be my father. That article with all the comments about how sick and disgusting he was…couldn’t possibly be about him. The phone calls from reporters, and hateful people couldn’t have been directed at me. It doesn’t seem real. Over a year later, and the more time passes…the more it seems like a movie I saw once. Yet here we are. I still see his blue eyes in the mirror, I still flash to him playing his guitar in the kitchen late at night every time I hear one…and I still struggle with missing him.
                I’m done for now…I’ll try to get back into writing…it really does calm me down. And I promise to respond to all of the comments/emails that I’ve neglected. What can I say…? I lead kind of a crazy life.

No comments:

Post a Comment