I ran from my pain. I ran from a life that I thought I had so perfectly planned out. I ran from a small town that knew every waking detail of my life. Little did I realize that running from my past, really wasn't running at all. At some point those emotions I tried so hard to hide bubbled right back to the surface. The emotions took over my heart, my mind, my actions, and what little dignity I had left.
Every morning I woke, looked at myself in the mirror, and saw nothing. Why wasn't I good enough? What did they have that I didn't? Everything he asked I gave to him....everything. The friends who once stood by my side I no longer called my friends. The new friends I made in the end weren't really my friends at all. Now in a new town, I had absolutely nothing. When I started work, I worked sixty plus hour weeks. For a while it kept my mind busy, but it didn't last long.
I got a call from Mom telling me that Dad was on his way up to visit me, but the quivering in her voice had put my heart on edge. Mom told me that she had made a terrible mistake, that she was sorry, that dad was extremely upset and left that morning for Montana; on his way he would see me. The mistake..financial crisis. What American citizen hasn't been in a financial crisis? I stood speechless and confused while my mother sobbed apologies over and over in my ear. I believed her every word, every cry, but still found myself speechless. Then through gasping breaths I hear "Dad and I have been having problems for awhile, I don't know if..." There I was eighteen, oldest of my family, right in the middle of my parents midlife crisis. They couldn't, wouldn't get divorced. Would they? I had always thought that my parents had it all together, there human I know, but as a child you live in a fantasy world where bad things don't happen to good people. They are good people. They are my parents, together forever, til death. End of story. As an eighteen year old trying to explain that to her parents I'm sure it was only heartbreaking. When dad finally got to my house his eyes were cold, heart aching just as much as my mothers, but yet he said nothing about it. When I told him I knew, he gave me the same answer mom did, that he "didn't know if...." and once again I blurred out the last part trying to assure him things would work out. (and they did and are but I will get to that later) When I finally had a chance to talk to my brother about it he begged me to come home, said he couldn't handle it alone. Once again I assured that everything would work itself out.
Miles away my brother longed for someone to listen and talk to him, and I couldn't be there. Miles away my mother longed for forgiveness, if not yet from my father, then from me. Miles away my father's quiet, gentle spirit shattered into a million pieces. Those miles made it that much easier to be angry at God.
No comments:
Post a Comment