Absent
Contributed by Lopez
I am the only parent. It defies the agreement I thought I’d originally made, but here we are. I didn’t just win custody, I won everything; except I won it by default because drugs stole you from your children.
Today is the day I wish you were here the most. Your daughter said she was tired of waiting for you to come back and she wants a stepdad now. This isn’t go fish, so I couldn’t agree but I did let her cry it out with me.
Two nights before that, I took them to an interactive school event. I recognized the other single moms playing with their kids. We smile. We nod in agreement to the robbery of the drug epidemic; but I’m not sure we all have the same experience. I don’t know how many others also feel the weight of wanting.
I want you to be sober. I want you to come back to life. Not for me, for them. I want you to show your daughter the reptiles. Smash rocks with your son. I don’t want to be in the position of having no answer when your children ask me what happened to you.
When other people ask, I say, “He relapsed.” In response, they write the word trauma into our child’s paperwork. I’m not happy about it, though how can I object?
What I can object to, is being told what a good mother I am after they learn you are gone. I understand their intentions, but I promise you I didn’t come to this purgatory of shock for the societal reward of a scooby snack or Facebook like. Maybe though, my bitterness is a form of grief and from what I’ve been told there is no timeline for grief.
I have nothing left to say that hasn’t been exhausted. Except, remember what your son last said to you: “Dad, please wake up.”
Please.