The years went on and my reunions with my father became a sort of ritual. He moved four hundred miles away and started a new family that he would live with, but I would be there during the summer months. Those months would show me a new form of attention that a five year old can not understand. It seemed so right to be with my Daddy, but then so wrong when he did what he did. I would learn to look to boys and men for this certain something that I was searching for and then to things and money. Soon I learned that one comes with the other. It did fill something inside of me, but could this be all there was? I knew in my heart that there was more.
My spirit forged on through many more years of horrors, until I married a young man when I was eighteen. Of course, I would not find that 'thing' from him, but when we went to pick up our beautiful bundle of joy that we would eventually adopt as our own, I instantly felt what had been alluding me all of these years. This overwhelming love that a parent is supposed to have for their child, along with a need to make him feel safe and secure, and yes, even happy! There he was. My spirit reached out to his spirit and we swore to take care of each other from that day until forever. My life was on a new road.
My spirit was on a mission to find all the love that one could find in a lifetime, and there stood the most beautiful, kind and gentle man that ever walked the earth. Our love grew into a magical family of five. As long as we were together there was lots of love, happiness and safety! With each year our bonds became stronger. Well, I thought that God had given me this unbelievable gift to even out my drastic childhood years, We were married for thirty years before the devastating news came to me and our children that he had been killed in a horrific train accident and was left burnt, mangled and bleeding at the site while the others were being pulled to safety. This spirit froze and for three years has walked through each day hoping to regain that part of me that he had authored over all those years.
Slowly, little by little, I believe that my spirit was melting and peeking at a familiar light. And then, at the beginning of this year I went to my son's room just to find his lifeless eyes staring up at me. My baby, my youngest child was dead! Now, here I stand in the wake of all the casualties of my life with this very broken heart falling to my knees.It is again that I reach for that beautiful spirit in my son to give me strength to help me heal.
1 comment:
Patty,
this is a wonderful blog, I am teary eyed :) Manuel was such a loving man, I always envied your deep love and commitment to each other. Now he is watching over you from the other side, waiting until your time to join him. But it's not your time, and it's unfair that we are left to walk this earth and try to make sense of what happened. The truth is, there is no sense. It's life, and death, and we can't change the order of how it comes. But I do know it makes us stronger (and I keep saying "I thought I was strong already!" guess not by God's view) Keep talking, talk and talk and talk about That sweet man and your loving son. We will listen :)
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