Friday, July 25, 2008

No easier

Today was no easier than yesterday, mostly because I had to see my therapist for the first time in a month and all I did was cry. She said it was good that I was letting the emotions out instead of stuffing them, but she doesn't know that letting them out can ultimately result in just as dangerous consequences in the end. No one has ever been witness to the hardcore, gut-wrenching sobbing that goes on late at night or behind closed doors, and no one ever will.

I keep seeing the look on my daughter's face immediately after I told her that her grandpa had passed away. The haunting vision is always followed by the thought "if you think this is bad, imagine what her expression would be if she found out YOU were dead". That thought alone should torment me to the point where I permanently remove the word suicide from my lexicon, but I doubt it will and I shared my fears about that with my therapist.

One of the hardest things about losing someone you love is that suddenly you feel like you're moving in slow motion as the world continues to swirl around you at warp speed. Everyone going about their business as usual. You want to scream out and tell everyone to stop. Can't they see just how much you're hurting? But time never stands still, for any of us. We have to learn to cope and keep moving. I hope it's a long time before my daughter and I ever lose anyone else we love.

The ex, who didn't have the balls to call me himself and tell me his father passed away, waited until late last night to call and use this occasion to try to reconnect with his daughter. His apparent assumption was that since she is now his only living relative, he can guilt her into having a relationship with him or guilt me into forcing her to have one. Knowing that he would eventually call, I had already asked her if she would want to speak to him when he did. Her response was a disgusted "no".

After I told him that she didn't want to speak to him, he made some comment about how he couldn't take much more of this and then hung up on me. I suspect the next phone call I receive will be that he is either in the hospital because he tried to commit suicide or a call telling me that he succeeded. While my reaction to either would be a cold "whatever", I certainly prefer that he take the advice that I've offered him repeatedly....get his life together, get the help he needs and prove to his daughter that he can be a responsible adult. Prove that he can be more than just a constant disappoint to her and maybe she will consider having a relationship with him. At this point, she's been hurt too much and far too often to even be open to the possibility of ever having him be a part of her life again.


OpenID catatonickid said...

Sounds like sensible even sage advice to me. Unfortunately it also sounds like there isn't a snowflake's chance in Hades that he'll take said advice. Such is the fate of most good advice, I've found.

I really wanted to say I so get what you mean when you said:

"You want to scream out and tell everyone to stop."

That's the perfect way to express it. With any kind of loss and/or trauma that's what it feels like. There's a hole in the world and you're busy trying to bridge the gap. And the world just keeps on keeping on when it damn well shouldn't.

4:16 AM, August 01, 2008  

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