Death Of Dreams

This is my first post in over two months. I have been emotionally crippled by the events of this summer and have, until now, been unable to organize my thoughts in any coherent way. Even now, I am not too sure where this will go.

The death of my father, at the end of June, was sudden and unexpected, but he was eighty-six and lived a very full life. The tragedy of my father’s passing was not his death, but the perfidy of my brother. I suffered two losses on June 26th– my father and my brother. (At some time, when I have sorted out my feelings about the betrayal, I may elaborate).

The death of my former husband - the father of my children, the man to whom I was married to for 25 years, and my best friend – is another matter. Steven and I had a unique relationship. We never stopped loving each other, but we could never live together. It was enough that we could care deeply and know that we were there for each other. Steven could not handle the stress of the responsibilities that go along with a marriage and I could never handle the stress of worrying about his mental health. For my daughter, Catherine, Steven’s death was the turning point in her journey to maturity. Her fondest wish was that her father and I would overcome all obstacles, openly declare our love for each other and renew our marital relationship. In spite of our love for each other, that would never happen. His death was a great tragedy. I loved this man with all of my heart and soul. My heart used to leap when I saw him coming up the driveway and when we separated I did not think it was possible for a person to survive the pain. I felt that someone had taken a knife to my body and slashed it to bits.

How could I not die from the loss of blood?

I threw myself into casual sex, and then one marriage and then another. I needed affirmation that I was desirable, valued and worthy of a man’s love. Steven’s rejection of me thoroughly fucked me up. I knew he was having an affair – my children did not. It hurt me deeply when I read my daughter’s blog wherein she stated that she had kept the letters from Steven’s mistress because it “was part of my father’s life”, even knowing that it was a part of his life that he regretted. I spent over a month with my daughter, in Salmon Arm, going through her father’s things. To Catherine, everything was a sacred memory of her father – to me it was being slashed over and over again and Cathy didn’t even see the blood! Children must realize that their memories are only a small bit of reality.

I have wept and wept and wept for what might have been – for the loss of my dream. I have lost, forever, my dream, my one and only true love.

I am so thankful that we were able to get past the first messy years after our divorce and move into a relationship that was so special for both of us – a relationship that only he and I understood

I don’t know how long it will take me to come to grips with the fact the I will never see Steven again, that he is no longer there for me. I don’t know – it is so painful.

My daughters lost a father, and he is irreplaceable – but, I lost the father of my children, my best friend, my protector, my dreams.

Rest in Peace, my Love.