Savedbygrace
10-11-2004, 09:35 PM
Dear Ed,
Again, here I am with a broken heart. I miss you and I am so angry at you all at the same time. It has been 2 years since you left us. Actually, 2 years, 1 month, 30 days, and about 12 hours since you left. I can still see you standing by the door, looking at me with those empty eyes, bag in hand. Why didn't I say something? Anything. I look back and it feels like I knew you were going to do it. But at the time, how could I have known? Looking at the receipts from your wallet, I know you knew what you were going to do. What kind of pain could you have been in that you could look in my eyes, and the eyes of your babies, and still walk out that door? I pray I never know that pain. I have replayed the scene 10,000 times. It always ends the same. I believe in your sickness you could have never been able to foresee the hell you were inflicting on me and the kids. I knew your heart. Your heart was good. You loved us. I know you did. And although you could not feel it, we loved you too. Michael misses you so much. I am alot of things, but I am realizing that a father I am not, and never can be. He talks about you alot again. 7 years old now. He is so bright, the best reader in the first grade. She sends him home with all kinds of extra work to keep him challenged. He loves sports and longs for a man to takle him on the front lawn. He prays at night that mommy gets married again. I feel so inadequate. It is just too lonely doing this without you. Why am I even writing this? You cannot answer.
Again, here I am with a broken heart. I miss you and I am so angry at you all at the same time. It has been 2 years since you left us. Actually, 2 years, 1 month, 30 days, and about 12 hours since you left. I can still see you standing by the door, looking at me with those empty eyes, bag in hand. Why didn't I say something? Anything. I look back and it feels like I knew you were going to do it. But at the time, how could I have known? Looking at the receipts from your wallet, I know you knew what you were going to do. What kind of pain could you have been in that you could look in my eyes, and the eyes of your babies, and still walk out that door? I pray I never know that pain. I have replayed the scene 10,000 times. It always ends the same. I believe in your sickness you could have never been able to foresee the hell you were inflicting on me and the kids. I knew your heart. Your heart was good. You loved us. I know you did. And although you could not feel it, we loved you too. Michael misses you so much. I am alot of things, but I am realizing that a father I am not, and never can be. He talks about you alot again. 7 years old now. He is so bright, the best reader in the first grade. She sends him home with all kinds of extra work to keep him challenged. He loves sports and longs for a man to takle him on the front lawn. He prays at night that mommy gets married again. I feel so inadequate. It is just too lonely doing this without you. Why am I even writing this? You cannot answer.