Marching in time.

It was a brisk late summer morning this morning. The cool 48 degree air wafted past my face and ears whispering of the coming winter as I walked to the barn to feed the horses and livestock.

It is this morning time that I usually use to organize my mind for the day and sort of allow my self to emotionally gage just where I am.

I’ve had some conflicts of mind lately while contemplating the demands of the present, the losses of the past and the uncertain future within my personal involvements. My youngest son will be moving out of town soon which will ultimately leave me without the interaction between us I have become accustomed too and brought on the latest emotional malaise.

I miss the relationships I had with my children whether they be natural, step or adopted. I miss the Williamson children terribly and worry about their future while knowing that I am powerless to improve it.

I realize that within all these conflicts runs the thread of natural change within a lifetime and concede to the inevitable while cautiously still peering forward to what might be.

I guess the most prominent thing I am sensing is the immediate lack of a young adult or adults to share with and teach. Is this empty nest syndrome?

Until recently I have always had an awakening mind nearby eager to explore new experiences and share the joy while searching for advice or counsel. I guess I became accustomed to vicariously reliving the discovery days of young adulthood through those young people who came my way by family or life’s events.

I always assumed that I would have my family around me no matter the situation and always be secure in a vision of the future with those I know being there as they had been in the past. It is a little disquieting when contemplating not having a young adult near whom you can attach or share dreams and hopes for their future and enjoy the experience of observing their discoveries within life.

I have plenty to keep me busy for at least the next couple of months and hopefully occupied.

I still have the pasture to divide up for the horses, Llamas and Emus.

I have horse stalls to build onto the back and sides of the barn.

Patty and I will be heading down to Vanderbilt University Hospital soon with a side stop on the way home to attend her best friend’s son’s wedding and I am contemplating an idea for a Halloween treasure hunt this year but still unsure as to the effort.

I guess this upcoming span of time through the holidays will be a time of transitions. Though the unknown future is standing there stark devoid and grey, it is also what every adventure is rooted in, Discovery, I’ll settle for that…

Finding Amber.

I found someone today who's memory like her namesake has maintained a warm glow in my heart. I found Amber.

I was browsing different records in an attempt to discover any news about her or her family when I decided to use the People search on My Space just on the chance that she may have an account. BINGO! There she was!

Amber is a young lady who became very near and dear to our hearts. She and her two little sisters and second oldest brother were members of our family for nearly two years and their pictures still hang from our stairway wall as family members. I am absolutely ecstatic!

I had recently cancelled my My Space account because it seemed to be a dead spot nobody I knew used often and a waste of time. I had to sign up for a new account again so I could send her a message advising that I had found her profile and asked for a reply.

This is great! I hope she responds.

Setting boundaries.

Summer is speedily passing by and it seems one can hear the howl of winter storms in the distance already. We are amazed daily at marked differences time makes when noticing that the new little ducklings are no longer all yellow, the corn that was just weeks ago was no taller than waist high is now too tall to see over and the evenings are progressively becoming cooler and cooler.

My time outside of our foster-parenting responsibilities has been focused on dividing up part of our pasture so as to give our Llamas and Emu (the gentler species) an area of their own and get them separated from our horses. I've been concerned more than once that one of the Emu or Llama will end up injured during feeding time because the horses will immediately kick out at anyone around (except me) so as to protect their portion of the feed.

I have also been planning the addition of horse stalls off the back of my little barn utilizing replaced telephone polls provided by a friend of my brother.

In the last two days that I have had the opportunity to work at it I have dug by hand seven fence post holes and installed posts made from telephone poles anchored with cement. In the last week I have planted at least ten post in the same way.

At 53 I have to learn that the body just doesn't recover as it did in the past but I've now gotten to the point that the last couple of poles were placed and I didn't die at the end of the day. In fact I was capable of a shower and then sharpening 48 number two pencils for the children who started school today.

I feel it strange sometimes that right in the middle of a task so physically demanding as setting fence posts that a philosophical thought will make itself known as if I had been considering it for hours. In this instance I found my self considering the parallels of setting physical boundaries (fence posts) with emotional boundaries (defining emotional limits). It became suddenly clear that emotional boundaries where akin to the physical boundary of the a fence line I was installing, extremely hard to install but once set and strung lasts for a very long time with periodic maintenance while effortlessly keeping those inside safe and those outside separate. For the life of me I can't figure why in the middle of sweat and strain such a thought passed through my brain.

Saturday is the last swap-meet of the season up in Cromwell and I have set my mind to attend money or no. It is always a fun time and good place to get ideas for around the farm.

The children started school today and I think the wife is looking forward to the time it will allow for not just catching up on the cleaning but also catching up on the latest plot twists of All My Children.

I hope the weather holds and as time passes I improve in setting my boundaries.

I found a box of clay...

I was rummaging around in my garage yesterday looking for a suitcase or a suitable container to transport the clothing of our oldest foster daughter who was leaving our care for independent living. When foster children are moved it is not acceptable to put their clothing and belongings into plastic trash bags as it implies the stigma that their property is on the same level as trash. When moved with a suitcase it is more dignified.

Any way as I was rummaging around, I ran into a large box of artist quality modeling clay that I recognized as the clay that we had purchased for our daughter Misty when she first came to live with us five years ago.

I began to reminisce about our time with her despite a self imposed rule not to do so in an attempt to dull feelings of loss, as usual though it only takes that one trigger and off I went down memory lane.

I recalled that here was the box of clay that was meant to represent Misty’s new awakening or rebirth into a world of unbridled opportunity, to do exactly as she wished instead of everything wished of her. This box along with a large artist’s easel, paints, brushes, and whole room put aside as her art studio were the result of her mere suggestion that she always wished for the tools to express herself in her art. We were her new caretakers so it was our obligation to provide her with every opportunity.

I remembered that as the time passed, the clay was not used and the months slid into years. The box of clay began to take on another persona more to the negative instead of its original purpose of setting her free. The box became a reminder of Misty’s inability of original thought or creative thinking robbed from her by the lack of hope during an abusive childhood. This box of clay became both the symbol of the faint hope of one day sculpting something from her soul while also representing waste and unrealized dreams.

It hit me then in the close summer heat of my garage while obtaining that suitcase for one child preparing to leave just what that box actually represented… As nothing was done with the potential of the clay within the box it seemed that the potential we saw in Misty sat as the clay had sat unused and unrealized. It felt at that moment that five years of teaching, caring and loving were contained in that cold uncaring lump of clay and once again I cried…

Time will tell with Misty and hopefully some day soon she will come to know that her potential is limitless, her story inspiring, her person unique and her spirit deserving of true love.

Two new cats and the 4-H Fair.

Aside from having a ton of fence work to get done, horse stalls to build, and a barn to side before winter we find ourselves right smack dab in the middle of the Allen County 4-H Fair.

Our ten year old foster daughter is entered with Nabokko the most popular of our three Llamas obtained in a rescue. She has her poster to finish, her Llama's costume and her club paragraph to complete all before the start of the fair on Monday.

Anyone familiar with 4-H will tell you just how much of a strain that puts on the parents when everything is began at the last moment. It is a good thing that the wife has good friends who have volunteered to help out so the ten year old won't be left out. We look forward to an enjoyable week and an overnight next Saturday as long as we can keep our wits and schedules together.

I brought home two male cats for the barn last evening. Both are about four months old and hopefully right at the best age to be acclimated to the barn without bringing bad habits with them, namely hunting birds. I am a little concerned about the chickens with chicks and the momma duck with her fifteen ducklings if the cats take to hunting the little ones.

We may have gotten lucky though in that when I let them loose in the hay loft of the barn it was already occupied by two of our Guineas. When I dumped them out of their carrier they slunk for a couple of steps and then as if a fire cracker just went off jumped about a foot into the air when the Guineas began sounding their distinctive alarm and then ran for the nearest cover. I think I got them at just the right age. The one thing that I want them to hunt though are the mice that are beginning to over populate the barn and even though it is summer they are still getting into the animal's feed.

I think I will name them B1 and B2 for Barn cat one and two. Both cats are actually pretty good looking cats with distinctive pastel tones to their coloring in varying shades of white, blue grey and patchy yellow.

The peacock chicks are beginning to grow their crowns and should be ready for free ranging in another week.

I just found out yesterday that I won't be able to tell my male Emus from my females until they are approximately a year and a half old. I learned that the females make the distinctive booming or drumming sound familiar to those that have been around Emus while the males grunt or growl. Oh, well I just have to be patient... The Emus are really fun to watch and are quite friendly. It's neat to watch them circle or turn as they run as they lean into the turn just like a rider on a motor cycle.

I recently added a photo of Gypsy my mare and I on my My Space page along with a photo from last year of three of my girls. Time has passed and as is life things have changed. I know I'll catch hell from some of my family for also including it in my My Space slide show but after considering how it depicts a nicer time for my Three Musketeers I decided that it was the moment that was of value and shouldn't be lost.

My next writing will come if I survive the two new cats and the 4-H fair.

Summer begins.

Summer is beginning to pass signaled by the 4th of July and Fort Wayne’s traditional Tree Rivers Festival. These two events have come to signal with me that the refreshing newness of spring and a new seasonal beginning is at its end. The headlong march through summer into fall and ultimately winter begins with the festival. I guess it’s true that as you grow older winter becomes less and less the favorite of all the seasons.

This Independence Day was nice in that there wasn’t any distress or controversy attempting to intrude. It was a nice warm day culminating in the domestic normalcy of a cook-out, fireworks viewed from the front porch and a campfire shared by the adults. I missed family that wasn’t there but enjoyed those that were and was content.

Now it is time to begin planning the necessary construction of horse stalls and shelters for my Llama and Emus for the winter and getting the barn sided. God it’s good to be a guy and have projects to look forward to.

What's on my mind.

It's Saturday, I'm at my part-time job and now setting at the keyboard with the desire to put thoughts down into words but not the least idea of how to start or what to start writing about.

There are really four situations or circumstance that seem to occupy my mind most of the time depending on which one for what ever reason hooks into my thinking processes. The four issues not necessarily in the order of importance are my daughter Candy, my daughter Misty, our foster children, and building horse stalls and out buildings for our animals before winter.

Our Foster Children,

The issues with the foster children are actually the easiest to deal with while they seem to cause the most amount of immediate stress. The current sibling group a challenge as they have never known structure or consequences prior to being placed into Foster Care. Every day is a challenge in attempting to reach each child in a loving manner and instilling some sense of security through structure without going stark raving mad! The oldest thinks she is mom and rules don't apply to her, the nine year old doesn't listen half the time or abjectly violates the rules. We are still attempting to figure out if his behavior is intentional or a side issue of severe ADHD and possibly suffering from mild Autistic symptoms. The six year old is by the most part a semi-normal little boy with a propensity to abuse animals and a total lack of control of temper. The five year old again is pretty normal by the average with an over developed ability to push her siblings buttons resulting in her being attacked verbally and physically much too often. The issue at the forefront is allocation of time and addressing the needs of the children in our home so I guess the Foster Children would be the thing that occupies most of my thoughts but is also something constructive to do with my mind and is totally painless re emotional cost.

My daughter Candy...

How does a father express his concerns for his daughter's decision making processes, discuss the benchmarks set by previous decisions good and bad and not be made to pay for setting the boundaries needed to protect himself from the pain of watching the daughter he loves make what he believes to be negative decisions in her quest for happiness. Why is it that a child has to hold their parent accountable for their misery even when it is the parent that has tried to council them so as to keep them from that pain. I wish my children could accept my advice without dispute, act on what they feel they can use and disregard the rest without attempting to shove it down my throat that they are rejecting my advice with prejudice. One saving grace in the situation with my daughter Candy is that I know she loves me no matter what.

My daughter Misty...

The situation with Misty is still so very raw that it evokes emotional extremes that are still in need of the healing salve of time. I cannot get myself to believe that all the advice, all the promises, all the love of the last five years was for naught. The hard thing to accept with the Misty situation is the total disconnect between the loving memories of the past and the harsh and ugly circumstance of her rejection of my family and I. I understand the circumstance, I understand psychological pieces at play, I accept that the plain facts speak of the irreversible destruction of our relationship with our daughter but I still can't let go. On those solo runs from work to home or unplanned errands to buy milk, bread or butter I find myself remembering when I told her she was special not ordinary, smart not stupid, talented not untalented, beautiful not plain, good not bad. I remember constantly attempting to un-instill the self-destructive precepts taught by an abusive step-father and mentally cruel mother by reminding Misty of her strength and her ability to survive. My pain is now not just the point of loss through rejection but the concept that everything that we attempted to pass on to Misty was also rejected. I had for so long thought as with any of my children that no matter the trial life may throw my way my connection would never be broken, the future would always include her and then I realize...

My Farm...

I have four horse stalls to construct and a Llama and Emu shelter to build before winter. I have a load of old telephone poles and the plans to get everything done. This is the one task and life event that I truly enjoy and need.

Those are the four main things that occupy my mind these days. I'm sure that some of the little things not getting much attention now may grow to major things and time will do it's best to heal those wounds left from the aforesaid turmoil and tasks. I know today that I have the love of my wife and the protection of a power I can not comprehend. I know that in the near future and always in the background I will be dealing with a wayward son who can't come home because of warrants for his arrest, a son who is facing fifteen years in prison after taking a deal to avoid twice the time, another daughter leaving for the Air Force and of course how to pay for Christmas.

I can honestly say that I have no hate in my heart for anyone and have not stopped loving anyone. I wish I had all those I love about me and hope for the day it is possible.

Hectic can be fun.

Lately life has been so busy and confusing that it has actually been fun. We have in our home now six foster children that we like to call our vacation kids.

As is a common thread within the norm for foster children they usually come our way with a lack of structure, a lack of boundaries or a familiarity with a nurturing parent with control.

This last sibling group of four has been a real test for both my wife and I. Two of the boys have severe ADHD to the point that if not medicated can not control their behavior and are quite the challenge especially when there is an attempt to get them to do something they don’t want to. The oldest sister is ten going on twenty and motherhood as she has an opinion on everything and is a constant intrusion when attempting to redirect her brothers into more positive behavior. The littlest one, who is five years old, is starved for attention and knows exactly what button to push with each of her siblings to get things going.

We have Raymond who is our newest addition and long term placement whom I have wrote of in earlier blog entries. Raymond is beginning to act out as a normal boy but does still not understand the Quid Pro Quo of childhood inter-personal relationship when it comes to hitting or biting. You hit someone, then you should prepare to be socked. If you push someone then prepare to be pushed etc… He will learn.

We spent over a thousand dollars on groceries for the upcoming month, paid the bills and allocated for gasoline and ended up with a grand total of who knows how much for the rest of the month.

With twenty loads of laundry, discarded juice cartons laying all around out side, board games not put away and the dogs constantly being left in or out when they are not suppose to be saying that life is challenging would be an understatement.

The fun parts though seem to make it all worth while. The backyard campfires, the trips to Magic Wand in Churubusco and watching the children witness the miracle of eggs hatching in the incubator. We get anger after the visits with parents but we also get the hugs when they are most needed by the children. Most of all there is again the sense of family in this big old house.

The family has taken its licks lately but it seems that life if given time will always send the healing salve needed to heal all wounds. We have been reminded that with every rejection there is acceptance and there is no negative in life that can’t be overcome with love and understanding.

My wife and I are so very lucky to have the life we have.

An evening thunderstorm in spring.

The hot summer’s night air was pushed aside so quickly the experience was not unlike dropping into a cool pool of water in the heat of the day. Chills began to run from the exposed parts of our bodies where minute’s earlier perspiration shone.

We sat on the front porch facing north wrapped in blankets and opened sleeping bags watching as a mid-spring thunderstorm rumbled past spiking jagged shards of lightning into the ground and from cloud to cloud with sudden violent beauty. The smell of ozone and wet dust filled the air.

Earlier I had become a little melancholy and just a little morose as I pondered the recent departure of two of my children from our immediate family and my inability to maintain my relationship with them in the close loving way every parent should know and experience. I caught myself wishing that they were there to share in the moment.

With the sudden stab of blue-white lightning zigzagging across the blue black sky my thoughts were brought back to ground and the awareness of those whom I love who by their choice were present in that moment. I consciously took hold of the memory in the discussions of God and Jesus bowling to make the thunderous sounds and the rain beginning in the eyes of the angels crying with delight in the sport.

In that moment a gift was given. The gift was the memory of a warm spring night, a violently beautiful thunder storm and the loving reminder of understanding and appreciation from our most recent addition to family… Vanessa.

Memorial Day

A Salute to all those men and heroes who I served in the military with, I remember you all. Most of all I want you guys that never made it home to remember that you are still alive in my memories and the memories of your loved ones. May God Bless America.

Feet of Clay.

I lie here shaking in the desert night unable to walk, unable to carry, unable to fight.
Brought low by the battle, torn asunder by betrayal of my trusted charge.
It was not my battle chosen a beginning plea to defend; we fought for your freedom we fought for your soul I pledged to stay with until the very end.

As the battles raged and your enemies cut deep did I not carry you? Did I abandon you? Did I not weep?

My thoughts turn over the memories of mingling spirits and horrors of the past,
Horrors pulled from their putrid cave, laid bare, exposed and finally put to rest.
I remember the Golem’s mute cry as he pondered his retreat,
Watched as your truth ground his tactics under and led to his defeat.

As your memories were left burning both on earth and heaven’s gate did I not care for you? Did I not understand? Did I not weep?

Left by every war is the carnage of its wake a dispelled quiet spirit and the acceptance of one’s fate.
Though the battle so hard fought now over the war still not won,
With allies called and breastworks built a plan was carefully spun,

Through the choking mists of memories and phantom smells of Golem’s hand
With your past awash and fading did I not take your hand?
Did I not shout to proclaim your victory and praise your tremendous stand?

Four towers built for defense, four towers built for one.
A castle for your refuge for the healing of your pain,
A plan to make you strong again to lay your future in you hands.

Warriors in battle share a common theme or thread, the melding of their minds and sprits a sharing of their dread.
Because they fight together and never fight as one,
Each exposes to the other their weakness and their frailty their very core exposed,
Each hands onto the other the fabric of their soul.

I hoped to share your victory and see the conflict to the end but to another’s allegiance you committed to another’s counsel sought to another let defend.

May you win your future battles and ultimately the war. May you realize all your dreams and all the joy life has in store,

You shouldn’t judge so harshly please listen one last time, We tend to judge ourselves by the standard set for others instead of being kind.

I lie here crippled now watching as your army passes by,
Accepting that I can not follow you on these twisted stumps of mine,
You have chose another captain to fight for you this day,
I your former champion dispatched and unforgiven because of my Feet of Clay.


:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

“Feet of Clay” is a figure of speech from the Bible (Daniel 2:33-45) used to indicate a weakness or a hidden flaw in the character of a greatly admired or respected person:

What about Ray.

A gentle soul entered our life a couple of weeks ago, his name is Ray.
Raymond has Asperger syndrome a form of Autism but a less severe form than what people are typically familiar with.

In Ray’s case he is able to keep up with his peer group educationally but has some difficulty interacting socially and his motor skills are just a little slow.

The big plus in Ray’s condition though is that he is aware of others, their responses and emotions and how his actions affect others. In Ray’s awareness his inner being is easily displayed when his attention is grasped and a connection is made.

Ray can not make eye contact with another person without a huge smile appearing on his face letting one know that he simply likes the fact that you are there. He would rather give a hug than shake a hand or wave good-bye and will maintain his hug until he senses the other person begin to withdraw. As with many of Ray’s peers he is explicitly simple in his motives, actions and reactions toward others and completely devoid of envy, malice or anger.

Ray has only been with us for a week but has already stolen our hearts. He is an example of the reason we decided to foster children and I already know he is a permanent member of our family and our lives.

Welcome home Ray.

Going to the Drive-In tonight!

It is our right of spring, our acknowledgement that warm weather is finally here and one of our families most dependable maker of memories, going to the Drive-in.

This spring we have six young ones between the ages of four and ten evenly split three and three in gender and who have never been to the Drive-in.

The wife and I will have the privilege tonight of watching the children in our care experience all the Drive-in has to offer such as the swing sets and playground equipment at the foot of the screen, the waiting between shows watching the longest minute count-down in anyone can remember and the unique warmth of a blanket cocooned around the body as one watches the drama on the giant screen.

Tonight we will be seeing Iron Man... (Hugely Exciting) what the other movie is none us know and won't really care until it is time to either enjoy it or fall asleep trying.

It'll be the best, it'll be family, it'll be our right of spring.

Down a spring time country road..

It is a bright sunny spring morning wet with the cool morning dew and the sounds of the territorial chirping of the red winged black birds and robins as they stake their claim to their little piece of the world. These are the mornings that I most enjoy the drive into town from home and the ones that evoke the most memories of the past, ruminations of the present and plans for the future. These are the mornings it is so good to be alive.

Lately I have caught myself thinking of what could have been and why things sometimes just don't turn out the way you wish that they had. On mornings like this I am still surprised to find myself considering how much the little pleasures of the moment would be appreciated by a loved one and then abruptly realize again that she is no longer with us. At that moment of realized reality the emotions flow and cascade with all the force of Niagara and then end in the shattered mists of memories and what ifs.

It is mornings like these that renew the spirit and heal the soul with its bright sunshine, lush flora and forever striving fauna.

It is on mornings like these that I realize that I am beginning to heal, beginning to forgive and beginning to move on knowing that the person we knew will always be in our memories just as we loved her.

Though my sense of loss is so profoundly deep and grief is still my tormentor it is on morinings like these that allow the snip-its of color of all that once was and all that can be seep back into my concious mind and soothe my pain.

It is on morinings like these that I inventory my life and the love that is still around me and realize that life goes on, life renews and that joy will survive.

Annnd they're off!

We had a close call this morning. Apparently after retrieving a couple of logs from the horse pasture for a campfire last night I failed to latch the gate properly. This morning our neighbor from in back and then police dispatch contacted us to inform us that our horses were loose and on the run.

My wife was in a panic, rousting me out of my morning shower announcing that things were amiss and peppering me with a staccato of instructions on what I needed to do to correct things.

I dressed as quickly as possible and met my daughter Candy at the back door as Patty updated us on the last known location of the equine runaways as somewhere near the neighbor’s lane.

We hopped into the car and as we began speeding toward the neighbor’s lane we were surprised to see our two horses in calm repose in the middle of the neighbor’s front yard not more than twenty feet from the road.

I easily placed a lead rope onto my horse while not even bothering with Gypsy as she began evasive maneuvers almost immediately. I, who am smarter than the average horse figured that Gypsy would follow where ever I led Apache. I learned that I was in fact correct proving my previous point by walking Apache to the pasture with Gypsy willingly following.

I thought everything was pretty well resolved and pleased that there were no complications until surveyed the damage in the barn from the goats that had been turned loose. They tipped everything they could looking for food and ended up eating half a container of horse grains. Then I attempted to adjust the pasture gate by standing on it and breaking the gate post on the hinge side. I guess I haven’t lost as much weight as I thought…

Memories are the only true items of value you take with you through life.

And so we begin again.

I just got off the telephone with Patty checking in and making sure she is doing okay. We picked up a sibling group of four two girls and two boys. We now have a household of nine that includes myself, Patty, my daughter Candy, our long term placement eighteen year old S, our seven year old with a personality disorder and the four new children.

Yesterday was packed to the gills with Patty running around from work picking up the new placements and Candy and I having to unpack S's furniture at storage center and then get the seven year old 'M' to school for an hour. ('M' is in home bound schooling due to her condition)

We found out after picking up the children that the two boys are diagnosed with full blown ADHD and were instrumental in shortening their last placement to only four days. We took them straight to the doctor, obtained scripts for their meds and then home.

Today Patty has let me know that the oldest boy has stolen eggs from a chicken and thrown them in the road, tried to poke the other children from under the trampoline while they were jumping and just recently pointed at the old dog until bitten.

I am currently at a part-time job and can't get home to relieve Patty who assures me all is under control but makes a point of telling me not to mosey when it is time to come home.

Patty and I have noticed though that the house is alive again though a little chaotic right now. We love it.

It is so hard to let go.

Lately I’ve started the first moment of every day coconsciously taking an emotional inventory by checking the intensity of the empty feeling located just under my heart.

I recognize the sensation as I have experienced it before immediately after the deaths of my little sister, my mother and a close personal friend. It is an emotion and a feeling that I will experience again and more often as I am getting older and it is the way life progresses. The emotion is grief.

It has been so extremely hard these past two weeks dealing with the sense of loss in the aftermath of our daughter moving out and burning her bridges so well essentially committing what I have come to call Famicide. (Suicide from family.)

What is so difficult is dealing with the loss on the level of a death because the circumstance of her departure only allows us to deal with it in that way. And so…

I look at the clear blue sky and instinctively think of the joy she would show… but she is gone.

I watch a baby animal or smell a flower and think how she would … but she is gone.

I take an unconscious inventory of home and family and things to share… but she is gone.

I think of the hugs and the promises, the feelings of father… but she is gone.

I find myself hopelessly attempting to mentally twist events of the future so she can come home… but she is gone.

I unconsciously sense through the moments of the day the void within entity of family. My family is there… but she is gone.

After five years of life, five years of family, five years of love… she is gone.

She is gone and so I must accept that each waking morning I will have to assess that hollow feeling in my heart. I also know though that time will pass and time will heal and day by day things will adjust so love will be remembered but not the loss.

A question answered.

Someone I knew asked me to explain,
Just exactly what I thought of her deciphered through a name,
An inquest more of motive as she was blinded by her pain,
A question she need not ask as the answer had never changed.

This name had become a symbol of all that was sweet and true,
Of a loving tender devotion encompassing not just me but you,
A simple name meaning Joy and Happiness a future to pursue,
In the beauty of heaven's mantle I found the name ... Misty Blue.

M iracle that beat the odds.
I nspiring story of strength and hope.
S imple desire for joy and happiness.
T rusting despite so much betrayal.
Y earning for normalcy and happiness.
B utterfly beauty within and without.
L oving nature and a need to be loved.
U ndaunted spirt.
E nchanting memories created in the moment of her presence.

I am not alone...

I realized the other day just what type of woman I am married to and that I could not have asked for better.

Our union was attacked from within but she chose not to falter, stood with me and then let her anger toward our attacker subside out of love for that person.

My wife is not weak, would never ignore facts or enter into denial and has never been a Polly Anna. I apologized to her for my part in bringing her pain and asked how it was that she did not hate.

Her answer was simple and in it’s simplicity I realized true love and devotion.
She said; “I wasn’t angry until I realized that she almost made me doubt you.”

Thank you my darling wife for believing in me.

I lost a friend today.

I lost a friend today… This friend was my mental health counselor. I say a friend not just because of our relationship of counselor and counseled but because of a close interpersonal relationship that was developed over the years in that we shared details of personal insights and aspirations generally not restricted to the confines of the professional relationship. She was the person whom I had advocated that each of my children seek out during their own personal trials because I had come to trust and believe in her counsel and instincts. She had visited our home, knew our dreams and in our hearts had become family.

I lost a friend today because she had to choose and some how to not believe but couldn't?

We now have family members at odds and this counselor and friend chose to abandon and desert my family when she was truly needed. She sighted restrictions of ethics and the professional detachment as her justification but none of it was actually the truth.

I resent her passing as I believed in her so much. I believed that no matter the depth of problem or confusion she would always be there with her balanced counsel but I was mistaken. I resent her now apparent prejudice and naïveté in her adherence of an outrageous accusation without a more in depth analyzation of circumstance referencing past facts and personal knowledge and applying it more equitably to this problem.

I was offended by the apparent knee jerk reactions that this friend who knew me best when I realized that she was no longer responding with the insight of someone who knew and understood me but was now reacting to that personality type so typical of the persona I had been accused of being.

I was disgusted by her lack of personal fortitude of moral justice. I feel she was convinced that a member of my family was in terrible emotional pain and that my family too was in peril yet she walked away… Her oath, her obligation, her profession dictated that she see us and herself through this turmoil but she abandoned us.

I will miss my friend and remember what we had shared. Through the good and bad she did see me through some really horrible times and I will always remember her personal kindness and gentle soul.

Good bye my friend and God Bless

Attempting to focus perspective.

These are the last explanations and suggestions of a man to his daughter after... attempted Famicide.

Now that my period of grief is almost over and my mind will allow me to think more clearly I now have the need for redress and to hell with what you may or may not do with the information. You have insulated yourself so well from anyone that might know too much of the truth to allow you to lie so well to yourself and others and veil it under the guise of protecting yourself from further abuse. (Victim mode)

I am not going to even begin to defend myself with pleas of retrospect devotion and love as that would only aid you in you delusional crap. I will how ever give you retort to some of the points in your letter you so adamantly made sure you delivered to me at work.

First off reference your plea that I be your dad in all things and your being upset at my COLD response; Under the circumstances that you made the plea in comparison to how I had treated Candy in the past with her dysfunctional relationships you asked that I be dad to you in the same way.

My answer to you was not meant to be COLD and aloof absent of feeling, it was meant to be resolute and reassuring in its tone of off handed normalness so as to reassure you that if that was what you wanted then I would do exactly as you wished. Our past relationship was openly known to be extremely close and without boundaries when sharing the intimate details of thoughts and past experiences. We had shared so many of your intimate thoughts and experiences for so long and all within the confines of getting you on your feet and out the door to a good life and you were now asking me relate to you as I would a real daughter... and I felt blessed.

The very foundation that you have used to burn your bridge and change your entire life’s direction was based on a mistake. I wasn’t cold; I detached or stepped back to what you had defined as a healthy distance that you now wanted.

Secondly you accuse me of acting like a jealous boyfriend in my reaction to your blossoming relationship with SJH.

No I was not acting like a jealous anything… I was acting like a loving father who cared for what may or may not happen to his daughter.

Where was the jealous father who watched your first steps back into the social scene with Brad? Did I protest, yell or make demands? No! Patty and I were allowed to mentor your toddling attempts at kindling a romantic relationship and even though it basically ended with you asking for me to come pick you up, you were not hurt in its negative end. You weren’t restricted or controlled with Brad and if he had been THE guy and the relationship had progressed in a positive and healthy way for you Brad would now be treated as family.

Where was the jealous father with Chuck? Patty and I again watched you venture forth with romantic aspirations even though we had voiced the small concern that he was an internet acquaintance. We met him, talked with him and recognized that you were totally infatuated with him. Did I throw a fit? Did I attempt to intervene? Did I act like a jealous boyfriend? NO! Patty and I both expected that the same ground rules of open discussion and questioning would take place as it had with Brad. Did it? NO!

When we, not I, WE came to both you and Chuck and warned you not to become too intimate too quickly WE explained our concerns that it would change your relationship before it even got started and that we felt that you deserved being courted. We gave this advice in support of your desire of a relationship not in an attempt to control anything. It is called mentoring.

When you suffered your first panic attack at work after a two year of not having one and confessed that it was brought on by your own dishonesty to us re your intimate relationship with Chuck. Did I throw a fit? When you graphically described the emotional trauma caused by the revisiting of past horrors due to physical abuse during your love making did I react as a jealous boyfriend? NO! I listened and attempted to comfort.

I reacted as your dad. Patty and I both accepted the transgression as a normal part of finding your own way and pointed out the pit falls of deviating from our mentoring. We told you that we loved you and that things would progressively get better as you learned more and more.

With SJH you forget who had the initial negative take on your involvement with him. It was Patty not me. She had flat out told you that it was unwise to date anyone from work as it was a standard and universally accepted that only problems would follow if it didn’t work out. You came to me and asked if it was okay to “just go out for coffee” with SJH after work and I begrudgingly said that I didn’t see anything wrong with a social get together over coffee.

Let me make a point here. You weren’t really asking for permission and I wasn’t in the position to dictate your actions. I was giving you advice and you were attempting to obtain acceptance.

In the same vein after Patty and I discussed your desire to “have coffee” with this guy, saw the red flags of a pending rebound from Chuck and the benchmark advice re dating a guy from work, we decided to advise you that we would not approve of you becoming too involved in another relationship so quickly. Jealous boyfriend or concerned parent?

The next step took us to Sandy’s. We attempted to reach you re your head long rush into a relationship with a divorcee seven years your senior with two children, a criminal record and a questionable ethic of even wanting to meet your family. We were also acting from the counsel of your two sisters who suspected drug involvement after watching your new prospect leave a bar party to go outside into the winter cold three to four times during the evening for five to ten minutes without any plausible excuse. We didn’t jump to conclusions we consulted with your sisters. We didn’t ban you from seeing him at the party and didn’t ridicule you or his behavior other than the disrespect he was showing you that prompted Candy bringing it to his attention.

I wasn’t acting about anything! I saw someone I truly loved spiraling down the abyss of an obsessive and misdirected need to get what they considered more important than anything else and that was a self determined relationship with SJH. I WAS BEING YOUR FATHER!

I am truly sorry Misty for what has happened but I guess the bridge has been burned and nothing can change that. You have in essence committed Hari-kari with your family of the last four years by your own hand, word and deed and so we move on. As with any death the one left behind collects up those things that remind you so vividly of the one you have lost and put them away out of site so the healing out of grief can begin. We have done exactly that with everything related to you except one picture that shows three young women so happy in life and the celebration of their parents love for each other.

You cannot decide to visit hurt upon yourself without collaterally hurting those around you. You in turn cannot dictate the reaction of those you have chosen to dismiss with eloquent pros of martyrdom. People who care for you have an opinion and it is too simplistic to portray their heartfelt thoughts as the parroting of your so called tormentor. They have their view and have the right to voice it without threat.

We are done, I am done. We shared what we had over the last four years and have no regrets in those memories. You have on your own decided your path with the regretful impetus of degrading all that was good and nurturing in your stay with us. So be it. If you want to revisit the horrors of the past and reanimate them into the present it is your choice. You post “M” as a very subtlety devious way of playing a very twisted game. I don’t approve. It is not healthy. I wrote it… I remember… It is still valid and true.

I’ll end this FINAL note with none of the hate, anger or ridicule I’m sure you have projected would come by leaving you with the only thing we all can still honestly say, WE LOVE YOU.

DAD