When I wrote this post almost two years ago, I thought that was the end of it.
I was in pain, but I was angry.
I didn’t want to ever see him again and I decided he was dead to me.
My focus was on taking care of mom. On making sure she knew we loved and supported her.
I couldn’t see past the present. Things were over but I couldn’t really picture what the future would look like.
I knew he wouldn’t be in it but it still seemed surreal.
After a while my anger faded into the background and I didn’t really think about any of it very much. I saw mom getting stronger and I focused on my life. My little family.
He would make half-assed attempts to reach out to me, but I knew he didn’t want us back. If he really loved and valued us, he would want to repent and get right with God. He would want to change everything and come back to us.
But he didn’t.
He doesn’t love anyone except himself.
I think he’s too sick to even know how to love.
But he sure as hell knows how to pursue his selfish desires and ambitions.
They are more important than we are.
So many promises were broken. A covenant was broken.
And it doesn’t even matter to him.
We are all left wounded in the wake of his choices. Left to lick our wounds while he “moves on” to some “new life”.
A life that he thinks will be better than the one he had with us.
As a little girl all I really wanted was to be loved, treasured, and adored by him. The drive to please him was overwhelming. It colored everything I did.
But it was never enough.
As a grown woman I’m still affected by it. The way I view the world. The insatiable need for love and affirmation. The perception that I have to work to earn people’s love.
Fortunately my Heavenly Father is mending my heart. He’s revealing His love to me in new ways and I’m understanding it for the first time.
But I still ache.
The choice he made two weeks ago ripped the scab off my wound.
I feel rejected all over again.
Our family will never be together again.
It’s really over.