You Left in the Rain. . . .

Now, before I start, just know: I am not, I repeat -NOT- being nostalgic here. I am simply filling in the gap for my girls. They may or may not need or want to know, but just in case there are any unanswered questions. . . . after all, he is their father - and I use that term loosely.

I met him in my sophomore year of high school. He was in the same grade but three years older than me. (that should have been a giant, I mean giant, red flag right there) Boy is that phrase ever so true: "Love is blind." Let me say for the record - I must have been blind as a bat! ! And as for "love", well, what exactly is love at 15? Stupid, is my best guess - lol!

He came from a troubled background. His mom walked out on him and his younger sister when he was just three years old. I can't even imagine. His dad was an alcoholic at best. I don't believe I ever saw the man sober. He was raised by family and foster care. But mostly foster care. That's where he was when I met him - with a foster family. (another concept that is hard for me to grasp - placing your own under the care of complete strangers). Needless to say the man (boy) came with a load of nasty baggage. This is where I stepped in.

By nature I am a fixer. I still have problems realizing that it's not my job nor do I have the ability to fix broken people. But, I needed to try. It didn't help that my own family life was dysfunctional at best. What is the old saying? "You can't see the trees for the forest." Well, that was me, alright. But I was determined. Little does one know that when they take on that roll of "fixer" to a boyfriend or spouse, they are really taking on the roll of a mom. But I had good experience at that, too. My youngest sister was 11 years younger than me. But, anyway, back to my ex.

We dated thru my high school years. Not always pleasant. Lots of break ups. Lots of tears. He dropped out of school at the end of my Junior year, I believe. He joined the Marine Corps the following year. He didn't even make it thru boot camp. What a mess he was. I'm sure his emotional state did him in. Yet, still, I didn't see the writing on the wall. No one could tell me that this man that I "loved" was as unstable as they come. Everyone could see it except me.

I was pregnant by the middle of my Senior year. He toyed with the idea of abortion, and I determined then that if I had to, I would raise this little baby by myself. (more handwriting on the wall) We did get married that March. I finished high school, using my maiden name, with only a very few aware of my "situation." We lived with Mom and Dad until I graduated. Then we moved out on our own. It wasn't until we had moved out that he heard from his real mom. It had been 18 years since he saw her. She made all kinds of promises to him, only to abandon him again. The real kicker - she lived less than half an hour away all this time and she had four daughters. All the while her son and first daughter were being shuffled about like a deck of cards.
All was "young love" well until we were forced to grow up and having a baby certainly does that. Jenny was born that September - Kelly was born in July, five years later.

When one cheats on a spouse he/she becomes paranoid. And he was paranoid. I didn't know the extent of his escapades until all was said and done. And with his paranoia came doubt. Doubt that I was faithful, doubt that Kelly was his. Doubt. Doubt. Doubt. What a mess this man was.

We managed thru seven years of wedded misery. In fairness, though, not all was miserable - but there was always an underlying current of dissatisfaction. One can't fix what one doesn't break. And even then, it is a difficult task.

He walked out - in the rain - six months after my mom died. Jenny was almost seven and Kelly was around 18 months. The thing that pained me most about that was the statement Jenny made to me as he was heading to his truck. We were standing at the front door watching him leave. She looks up at me and in her seven year old wisdom, says: "It's just like when Na-na died." The finality was set in her mind even then.

His visits with the girls was just as random and unpredictable as he was. It was hard on them. It was hard on me, watching them agonize over his "no shows".

There, obviously is more, but this is the gist of it. Neither one of us was perfect, but I did take my vows seriously. And. . . you can't make someone love you, no more than you can fix them.

It has been more than 25 years since the girls last saw him. All I can say is: "What a loss for him." He has missed Christmases, birthdays, graduations, weddings and the births of eight grandchildren. He will never recover what he has lost. Never. And that's a long, long time.

I just pray that the girls can understand he is unable to give - it only makes crazy sense that being abandoned leads to abandoning - hate him for what he's done - forgive him for what he's done - and move on. They have so much for which to be thankful. I hope they know that dwelling on the past only clouds the present and the future.

I thank God all the time for them. And, I pray for them. And, I love them. And, I'm hard on them, because I love them.