Dad is back.
He is the only one home, the first one to enter the house in a little under two months. He found the A/C broken, two jasmines and the big oak in the front yard dead.
And a week ago, Mom told him she didn't want to come back to live with him.
My father is not an emotional person. I rarely get more than a smile when I present good news or an accomplishment to him. I've seen him cry only once. His rages, on the other hand, are terrifying.
But he was not angry.
He was heartbroken.
He didn't say it, but it showed on his face, in his sighs, in the hand he passed over his eyes.
I talked to him on Skype, for the first time in a long time. All I wanted was to tell him it would be all right.
But it would have been a lie. A blatant lie.
Things aren't going to be all right. Things haven't been all right for a long time now. Part of it is his fault. Part of it is my mother's fault.
There are things for which I will never forgive my father. But this is something for which I will never forgive my mother.
I can understand that she hates being here and that she wants her children to have a French education. I can understand that she wants to lead her own life, without following anyone or being dependent on anything.
But I can't understand that she came all this way, she let us move and grow up in what amounts to a second life, before deciding to go her way.
I can't understand that she willingly chose to follow Dad here, to a better job, a bigger house, a better life than we've ever had before. And leave because she has vague ideas about getting a diploma in architecture and plopping my siblings down in a boarding school somewhere. I can't understand that she can't understand that we don't belong in France anymore. She might, but Bro and Sis don't. I can't understand that she doesn't see that she won't be able to make it alone.
I can't understand that she wants to end this family.
It's been coming for such a long time, but I don't want to believe it. I don't. I can't.
Why is it that a child, any child, the product of a union of love for better or for worse, a child whose parents ought, by the laws of nature, to love unconditionally, could be faced with such a horror?
Why?
I know there are far, far worse things in the world. But to me, right now, this is everything. Right now, I don't even want to think about anybody but myself. Right now, I am not even thinking about my brother and sister, six thousand miles away, who are asking themselves that same question.
Right now, I am nothing more than a child crying herself to sleep.
He is the only one home, the first one to enter the house in a little under two months. He found the A/C broken, two jasmines and the big oak in the front yard dead.
And a week ago, Mom told him she didn't want to come back to live with him.
My father is not an emotional person. I rarely get more than a smile when I present good news or an accomplishment to him. I've seen him cry only once. His rages, on the other hand, are terrifying.
But he was not angry.
He was heartbroken.
He didn't say it, but it showed on his face, in his sighs, in the hand he passed over his eyes.
I talked to him on Skype, for the first time in a long time. All I wanted was to tell him it would be all right.
But it would have been a lie. A blatant lie.
Things aren't going to be all right. Things haven't been all right for a long time now. Part of it is his fault. Part of it is my mother's fault.
There are things for which I will never forgive my father. But this is something for which I will never forgive my mother.
I can understand that she hates being here and that she wants her children to have a French education. I can understand that she wants to lead her own life, without following anyone or being dependent on anything.
But I can't understand that she came all this way, she let us move and grow up in what amounts to a second life, before deciding to go her way.
I can't understand that she willingly chose to follow Dad here, to a better job, a bigger house, a better life than we've ever had before. And leave because she has vague ideas about getting a diploma in architecture and plopping my siblings down in a boarding school somewhere. I can't understand that she can't understand that we don't belong in France anymore. She might, but Bro and Sis don't. I can't understand that she doesn't see that she won't be able to make it alone.
I can't understand that she wants to end this family.
It's been coming for such a long time, but I don't want to believe it. I don't. I can't.
Why is it that a child, any child, the product of a union of love for better or for worse, a child whose parents ought, by the laws of nature, to love unconditionally, could be faced with such a horror?
Why?
I know there are far, far worse things in the world. But to me, right now, this is everything. Right now, I don't even want to think about anybody but myself. Right now, I am not even thinking about my brother and sister, six thousand miles away, who are asking themselves that same question.
Right now, I am nothing more than a child crying herself to sleep.
4 comments:
There is never an age when you are too old to be a child crying yourself to sleep if you are that sort of person. In 50 years time you will be telling someone the same thing.
I have sat for over half an hour after reading your words many times.
You wrote them to get them off your chest. You don't need nor want advice - certainly not from me - and despite the fact that I'm a man and therefore it is my natural tendency to try and 'sort it' I have been 'trained' by Friend Who Knows Too Much and will try to desist. However I will, of course, not stop there.
Children depend on their parents. That is the natural order. There comes a point in the lives of many of us when we as children become the ones our parents depend on. As a child I have never experienced that which you are experiencing. My children did (though in far less dramatic circumstances but when they were both about your age). I learned a lot from that.
Do you mind if I make the suggestion that your parents may not be the ones who suffer if you don't forgive them. Your parents are no concern of mine but I have been brought into your world and therefore care about you (whether you or I like it or not). And you might be the one who suffers.
Your parents may not think they need nor may they want your help. Believe me they do. Taking sides will not help whoever is wrong or the 'most' wrong. Being neutral - however strong your feelings - may help. It may help them. It will help you.
OK. In for a penny in for a pound. I would argue that the laws of nature do not include unconditional love. In fact I would go so far as to suggest that there is no such thing as unconditional love in reality, only as a concept.
Why have I said that? Because if that is accepted it helps understand people's actions more clearly.
Of course none of this nor anything that anyone can say to you at the moment will lessen the horror nor the pain you feel. I suspect the same can be said for your Mum, your Dad, your Brother and your Sister.
You may, however, be the strongest one of the lot. It may be that you are the one they all need.
My family fell apart when I was in my early teens (though without the trans-oceanic issue) so I think I have some understanding of what you're feeling and I'm really sorry. Anytime you want a sympathetic ear, feel free to contact me.
- Ellen
Ironic that your comment motif is "All you need is love" and Love can be so hard to give at times.
Like GB I have sat for quite some time thinking about your posting but I'm not sure I can offer much. 'La vie s'arrange - mais autrement'.
May your days get better,
SS
I think you go through the break up of your parents twice; once when you're a child, and again when you get married, because your perspective on it completely changes and you have to re-evaluate everything that happened. And then probably when you have your own kids you'll go through it again from another view point. It seems impossible, but you won't always be this angry with them.
In the meantime, take care of yourself. And cry all you like.
XX Em.
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