Delighted that finally he would be in my home.
Hopeful that catching up would be a possibility.
Ready to help him achieve any dreams he may want to chase.
On July 16 2018, reality came to my house.
The skies began to cloud over as I knew surely change was coming to our peaceful oblivion.
Two weeks it was not so bad. The tension was sending down roots in order to withstand the onslaught.
And then it began.
Hell was unleashed upon my youngest and myself.
We watched as my oldest turned into a being that we did not know.
Anger and resentment, could that also be hate, oozed from his entire being.
We could do nothing right. There were no smiles for us.
The words were not soothing. They were meant to provoke.
All that I suggested was torn down as a stupid idea. Too complicated. Too much work.
Yelling that yes he is stupid, just like his Dad.
For sure that all hope for him was lost even as I pleaded for him to listen, to try.
Husband and middle child returning did little to subdue the darkness that was beginning to envelop us.
There was no calm unless the oldest was absent.
My heart was crumbling. My husband was trying to be there for my oldest, for me.
We all felt the heaviness, the negative feelings put out by my oldest.
I tried to fix what was long ago broken, but it is true, what has smashed cannot be put back together without flaws.
I thought my love would be enough, but it was not nearly enough.
And then one day we found out that there was a possibility.
We began to work toward that possibility. And a slight glimmer of hope emerged.
As the information came in the reality formed that the oldest would have to return to the South.
Then one day he did migrate South.
The heaviness and the darkness were gone.
It took the rest of us an entire weekend to recover. To come back close to the normal we once had. But the old normal was gone, replaced by this new strangeness. The knowledge that my oldest was determined to break me and I would have to choose if this was going to happen.
To be continued.....
November 19, 2018
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