Dear Alex, Father's Day.
15 June 2013
Dear Alex,
Seasons pass, skies fill with bulbous clouds, my journeys to you have begun again and nature becomes again a source of inspiration and courage.
The 'day-by-day' mantra that I hate reigns. I see it just has to be this way, this, quite literally, is the only way to get through this. Because you see, to think ahead, to plan, I have not that luxury. If I think even of a few days ahead I cannot cope, so much unknown swirls around, I cannot see. So when I take the kids today to see you and you seem tired but calm, I smile and fall into your arms loving you and thanking God that even though we go through all we do that sometimes the sun comes out. Occasions like today when you speak quite clearly and kiss me and bask in the presence of the kids, it tips the scales and yesterday, a terrible day of cries and uncontrollable anger and hitting out and indecipherable requests, frustrations, washes away in one good visit.
No you can't come home, no, I don't know when you can, yes your constant request to come home and when are you coming home and let me see my kids tear out my heart, but when you were home it was too much for you, you seemed worse. And my angel, you know I have to protect these kids of ours, so for now, I know this is what has to happen.
And I have to have patience, because my goal of having you home has not shifted. And I know some day it will happen. I have to hold on to this.
Maybe all this, this angst and hurt and seemingly endless pain, maybe this period of time is the process of you being so aware of your situation and accepting it...? Who knows.
The first thing you say to me when I come in today, you seem desperate to communicate it, you are pointing to your head and saying 'it's all here, everything still'
I know it is, I think sometimes due to the brain damage you become confused and lost, unable to process everything as you need to or as someone without a brain injury can. But this desperate need to communicate the fact that 'it's all here, everything still, in my head' shows me how at times it is all still in there.
A simple sentence from you which fills me with hope again.
One day at a time my angel.
Happy Father's Day, your kids love you so very, very much...
Me xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
 |
| A happy visit with dadda. |
Dear Alex,
Seasons pass, skies fill with bulbous clouds, my journeys to you have begun again and nature becomes again a source of inspiration and courage.
The 'day-by-day' mantra that I hate reigns. I see it just has to be this way, this, quite literally, is the only way to get through this. Because you see, to think ahead, to plan, I have not that luxury. If I think even of a few days ahead I cannot cope, so much unknown swirls around, I cannot see. So when I take the kids today to see you and you seem tired but calm, I smile and fall into your arms loving you and thanking God that even though we go through all we do that sometimes the sun comes out. Occasions like today when you speak quite clearly and kiss me and bask in the presence of the kids, it tips the scales and yesterday, a terrible day of cries and uncontrollable anger and hitting out and indecipherable requests, frustrations, washes away in one good visit.
No you can't come home, no, I don't know when you can, yes your constant request to come home and when are you coming home and let me see my kids tear out my heart, but when you were home it was too much for you, you seemed worse. And my angel, you know I have to protect these kids of ours, so for now, I know this is what has to happen.
And I have to have patience, because my goal of having you home has not shifted. And I know some day it will happen. I have to hold on to this.
Maybe all this, this angst and hurt and seemingly endless pain, maybe this period of time is the process of you being so aware of your situation and accepting it...? Who knows.
The first thing you say to me when I come in today, you seem desperate to communicate it, you are pointing to your head and saying 'it's all here, everything still'
I know it is, I think sometimes due to the brain damage you become confused and lost, unable to process everything as you need to or as someone without a brain injury can. But this desperate need to communicate the fact that 'it's all here, everything still, in my head' shows me how at times it is all still in there.
A simple sentence from you which fills me with hope again.
One day at a time my angel.
Happy Father's Day, your kids love you so very, very much...
Me xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
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