Remembering Easter 2006 (second entry of the night)
This has nothing to do with physical pain, yet everything. The Wednesday after Easter, 2006, my ex wife (married at the time) ripped apart my life. Lying, she got my permission to take my children to California. "I will be back" were the last words she said to me in person. She never came back. My world was ripped apart as I lost my 4 and 2 year old daughters. so distraught was I, that I attempted to take my life. I ended up in a psych ward for three days, and my ex used that as an excuse to take away all my rights to my children after I had exhausted my money - spending over $30k in legal fees. I have not seen my children face to face in over three years.
In 2007, when I could take it no more, I drove to West Virginia in an attempt to rededicate myself to God. Yet pride struck me, and after two days there, I turned around and came back. That was when I had my first auto accident. Six weeks later I had the second.
Every Easter is a day of mourning for me. Instead of celebrating it as one of the most Holy Christian holidays - celebrating the resurrection of Christ Jesus - it has become a heavy burden.
The Wednesday following Easter Sunday of 2006 was when it all happened.
There is no way to put to words the grief of a father whose heart was torn away from him. Like last night, I remember the births of my daughters. I remember playing with them as babies. I remember their laughs and giggles. Now I hardly know them except through our sparse conversations over Skype or the phone.
My health has declined to the point where I can no longer work, and pain is my ever present companion. Despair often tails close behind. I cannot even get drunk thanks to the Lyrica I'm on, so I must face my sorrow with a clear mind and ever feeling heart.
I am sad.
The one act of a grieving father has removed all the rights I had to them, thanks to a biased court - biased against men.
I hate life, but hold on in the hopes that some day I may have a relationship with my children once again. I have heard all the advice: "Stay in contact with them. Let them know you love them. Some day they'll understand. Your love for them is what is most important." I know all of this, and do it to the best of my ability. But it does not lessen the pain. It does not remove sorrow's sting. Those who give such advice, while well meaning, have no idea how hurtful they really are. As if I do not understand this? Am I a derelict father who has abandoned his children? Am I one who has given up on them? They are my reason for living, and the reason I fight this pain every single day. it is with hope that I look forward to the time that I can kindle a relationship with my flesh and blood. Their names are literally written into my chest, over my heart and lungs so that every time I look into a mirror, I see their names. Do not assume that because this has happened to me that I am any less of a caring father then those who still have their children at their side.
For years I could not get over my distrust and hatred of women. They were vile and evil in my sight. I believed that they would hurt me. If my ex wife could drive such a dagger through my heart after ten years of marriage, what would prevent another from doing the same? Yet I dared to trust and love again, and am married to a wonderful woman. She was not the first love of my life, but she is my greatest now.
Time heals some wounds, but not all. The sting still remains, and although at times it may be numbed by life's circumstances, it reappears and peirce's as deeply as when it first entered the heart. Some wounds time simply cannot heal. Some wounds do not scar over, but simply contract, only to bleed openly once again.
My wife cannot understand. My friends cannot understand. God understands. That should be enough. It should be.
It was during those early days of pain that I turned to writing. I put my thoughts to words and expressions that only the heart could conceive. Writing became my salvation, and my curse. For every time I wrote, the wound opened freshly anew. True Love
This struggle I face makes me want give up and weep,My lover is gone, my friend lost to the blue deep.My heart once so light now burns for the past,Wondering how I will go on, how long will I last?In my deepest despair, my soul cries out aloud,“Who will hear me? Who will hold me and call me their child?”As my voice breaks with emptiness, nothing more to be said,My head yearns for the soft touch of my cold, now empty bed.Suddenly I feel a presence, a love gentle and true;It touches my soul, a comfort bold yet not new.I’ve felt you long past, where have you been gone?And a voice so gentle, majestic, and in love deeply responds:“My child I’m here. I have loved you all along.”“I know the pain, I know the suffering, I’ve known all along!”“I created you, loved you, and with joy mine heart oft leapt!”“I’ve watched you, guided you, and your tears I have wept.”“Your sins I have born, to the deep pits of Hell,”“When my Father’s back was turned, I knew loneliness well!”“But I have come back, victorious, embolden and strong!”“Now no one can take you, my child, from these scarred hands and scourged arms!”“Death has no mastery, no power, no chill!”“It was defeated at the cross by My love and My will!”“This world is not all, no; it is not near the end,”“This is where life, love and laughter, so virgin, begins!”“Now here I stand, arms empty and wide,”“Please come to me and view this gash in my side.”“I was tormented, vexed, my flesh pierced and sore torn”,“But this I did for you, that you may be reborn.” “In me life is everlasting, a peace to be worn!”“Trust in me child, may your heart now be forever warmed!”“I’ll never leave you nor forsake you; I have been here all along.” And with those gentle words, he raised that scourged arm,That flesh that was bruised, whipped and did freely bleed;Had the gentlest hand that was pierced deeply for me.He reach to mine eyes, and the tears he did wipe,And I fell in to His arms, and knew I’d be alright.For Christ’s love is deep and so very true,I’ll never again have to be torn, but now made anew!
Crying Out
My God, my God, I just don’t understand,How life and death is decided by your hand.
How do you choose those who live, and those who will die?I lift my head, and with tears that fall, I bleed with my heart, arms upraised to the sky.
There is so much suffering, there is so much pain.Where is your hand? These hearts that are slain!
My self, my friends, pure strangers, and all,Creation, mountains, rivers, fall.
At the commands that come forth from your glorious power,Rivers dry, mountains crumble, Even the mighty whither as the flower.
I don’t see why this has to be, I don’t understand, will you make me see?
Why are there those, with nothing to have?Those who know the streets counting nothing as glad!
Those who are alone with no one to hold,Would count a rare hug as more precious then gold!
We fight, we sorrow, striving for peace, so fleeting,Yet peace and comfort never join, never meeting.
Yet through it all is your quiet, whispering love.Your Spirit covers us, enfolds us in your encompassing glove.
This glove of your faithfulness, this glove of your peace,You know of our burdens, and with us you weep.
You do not desire suffering, you do not desire pain.This world is corrupt, everyone within has been slain.
By sin that engulfs us, and corrupts this wide world,Those whom you love, would rather you would be cursed; Those words to the skies they would be quick to hurl.
These tears I weep are not just for me,But for the world, for my brother, for my sister, because they do not see.
That your love is eternal, all the sacrifices you have made.What remains is to know you, that these hurts may thus fade.
I praise you and love you, and in glory you do reign!For I know that you have a purpose, even for this sharp and ragged pain!
These are just a couple I have written over time. The theme is still the same: pain, loss, but looking to God for salvation. Yet there are darker writings, when nothing else can peel back the veil... words must be spoken, if only to echo the darkness within...A Brief Emergence into Light
With the sound of concrete grinding against sand, a frail man pushes open a bunker door. With deeply wrinkled eyes squinting against the assault of the sun’s rays, he surveys his surroundings.
Years ago he had entered his fortress, a bunker against the assault of the world. With a defiant yell, he had passed into non-existence. What drew him forth from seclusion was a mystery that drew upon his heart. Yet into the light he once again emerged.
Expecting the lush green of grass and trees, his sun bit eyes absorbed the grey cast ruins of life. Grass that should have been growing in fresh tenderness was but ash. All that remained of the trees were but silent skeletons, coldly mocking him as their charred branches reached out. Gone was the blue sky, replaced with a grey overcast – not of clouds, but of sunlight which was bleached of all color.
Lifting his feeble leg, he gingerly stepped forward into this wilderness of desolation. Only the sounds of the cruel biting wind greeted his ears as they strained to listen for any signs of life. On he trudge as dust stirred with each footstep.
Eventually he reached the outskirts of civilization. Dark humanoid forms mingled in the distance, seemingly unaware of his gaze. He continue forward, approaching the remains of civilization.
Around him were the shades of people, cold and empty in their endless march. Couples held hands, as children grasped on to the backs of coats. In vain he sought for companionship, only to find that his calls went unheeded. He searched for those who would not only see him, but welcome him with warm arms and a loving heart. Instead, he found empty mockery and cold judgment as those whom he cared for turned a cold shoulder.
His heart heavy once more, he shambled back to his old shelter. The bunker of concrete and steel would welcome him in it’s cold embrace. At least there he knew his position in life. There he knew that he would not be judged. There, he would find the deep love of frozen solitude.
“Farewell to the world of it’s empty promises, Thus the mockery of life remains. Meaningless love sprouts as weeds - now dry, Where sincerity will never reign.”
Morning draws near, and with it another day filled with pain and memories of loss. Until we meet again...
In 2007, when I could take it no more, I drove to West Virginia in an attempt to rededicate myself to God. Yet pride struck me, and after two days there, I turned around and came back. That was when I had my first auto accident. Six weeks later I had the second.
Every Easter is a day of mourning for me. Instead of celebrating it as one of the most Holy Christian holidays - celebrating the resurrection of Christ Jesus - it has become a heavy burden.
The Wednesday following Easter Sunday of 2006 was when it all happened.
There is no way to put to words the grief of a father whose heart was torn away from him. Like last night, I remember the births of my daughters. I remember playing with them as babies. I remember their laughs and giggles. Now I hardly know them except through our sparse conversations over Skype or the phone.
My health has declined to the point where I can no longer work, and pain is my ever present companion. Despair often tails close behind. I cannot even get drunk thanks to the Lyrica I'm on, so I must face my sorrow with a clear mind and ever feeling heart.
I am sad.
The one act of a grieving father has removed all the rights I had to them, thanks to a biased court - biased against men.
I hate life, but hold on in the hopes that some day I may have a relationship with my children once again. I have heard all the advice: "Stay in contact with them. Let them know you love them. Some day they'll understand. Your love for them is what is most important." I know all of this, and do it to the best of my ability. But it does not lessen the pain. It does not remove sorrow's sting. Those who give such advice, while well meaning, have no idea how hurtful they really are. As if I do not understand this? Am I a derelict father who has abandoned his children? Am I one who has given up on them? They are my reason for living, and the reason I fight this pain every single day. it is with hope that I look forward to the time that I can kindle a relationship with my flesh and blood. Their names are literally written into my chest, over my heart and lungs so that every time I look into a mirror, I see their names. Do not assume that because this has happened to me that I am any less of a caring father then those who still have their children at their side.
For years I could not get over my distrust and hatred of women. They were vile and evil in my sight. I believed that they would hurt me. If my ex wife could drive such a dagger through my heart after ten years of marriage, what would prevent another from doing the same? Yet I dared to trust and love again, and am married to a wonderful woman. She was not the first love of my life, but she is my greatest now.
Time heals some wounds, but not all. The sting still remains, and although at times it may be numbed by life's circumstances, it reappears and peirce's as deeply as when it first entered the heart. Some wounds time simply cannot heal. Some wounds do not scar over, but simply contract, only to bleed openly once again.
My wife cannot understand. My friends cannot understand. God understands. That should be enough. It should be.
It was during those early days of pain that I turned to writing. I put my thoughts to words and expressions that only the heart could conceive. Writing became my salvation, and my curse. For every time I wrote, the wound opened freshly anew. True Love
This struggle I face makes me want give up and weep,My lover is gone, my friend lost to the blue deep.My heart once so light now burns for the past,Wondering how I will go on, how long will I last?In my deepest despair, my soul cries out aloud,“Who will hear me? Who will hold me and call me their child?”As my voice breaks with emptiness, nothing more to be said,My head yearns for the soft touch of my cold, now empty bed.Suddenly I feel a presence, a love gentle and true;It touches my soul, a comfort bold yet not new.I’ve felt you long past, where have you been gone?And a voice so gentle, majestic, and in love deeply responds:“My child I’m here. I have loved you all along.”“I know the pain, I know the suffering, I’ve known all along!”“I created you, loved you, and with joy mine heart oft leapt!”“I’ve watched you, guided you, and your tears I have wept.”“Your sins I have born, to the deep pits of Hell,”“When my Father’s back was turned, I knew loneliness well!”“But I have come back, victorious, embolden and strong!”“Now no one can take you, my child, from these scarred hands and scourged arms!”“Death has no mastery, no power, no chill!”“It was defeated at the cross by My love and My will!”“This world is not all, no; it is not near the end,”“This is where life, love and laughter, so virgin, begins!”“Now here I stand, arms empty and wide,”“Please come to me and view this gash in my side.”“I was tormented, vexed, my flesh pierced and sore torn”,“But this I did for you, that you may be reborn.” “In me life is everlasting, a peace to be worn!”“Trust in me child, may your heart now be forever warmed!”“I’ll never leave you nor forsake you; I have been here all along.” And with those gentle words, he raised that scourged arm,That flesh that was bruised, whipped and did freely bleed;Had the gentlest hand that was pierced deeply for me.He reach to mine eyes, and the tears he did wipe,And I fell in to His arms, and knew I’d be alright.For Christ’s love is deep and so very true,I’ll never again have to be torn, but now made anew!
Crying Out
My God, my God, I just don’t understand,How life and death is decided by your hand.
How do you choose those who live, and those who will die?I lift my head, and with tears that fall, I bleed with my heart, arms upraised to the sky.
There is so much suffering, there is so much pain.Where is your hand? These hearts that are slain!
My self, my friends, pure strangers, and all,Creation, mountains, rivers, fall.
At the commands that come forth from your glorious power,Rivers dry, mountains crumble, Even the mighty whither as the flower.
I don’t see why this has to be, I don’t understand, will you make me see?
Why are there those, with nothing to have?Those who know the streets counting nothing as glad!
Those who are alone with no one to hold,Would count a rare hug as more precious then gold!
We fight, we sorrow, striving for peace, so fleeting,Yet peace and comfort never join, never meeting.
Yet through it all is your quiet, whispering love.Your Spirit covers us, enfolds us in your encompassing glove.
This glove of your faithfulness, this glove of your peace,You know of our burdens, and with us you weep.
You do not desire suffering, you do not desire pain.This world is corrupt, everyone within has been slain.
By sin that engulfs us, and corrupts this wide world,Those whom you love, would rather you would be cursed; Those words to the skies they would be quick to hurl.
These tears I weep are not just for me,But for the world, for my brother, for my sister, because they do not see.
That your love is eternal, all the sacrifices you have made.What remains is to know you, that these hurts may thus fade.
I praise you and love you, and in glory you do reign!For I know that you have a purpose, even for this sharp and ragged pain!
These are just a couple I have written over time. The theme is still the same: pain, loss, but looking to God for salvation. Yet there are darker writings, when nothing else can peel back the veil... words must be spoken, if only to echo the darkness within...A Brief Emergence into Light
With the sound of concrete grinding against sand, a frail man pushes open a bunker door. With deeply wrinkled eyes squinting against the assault of the sun’s rays, he surveys his surroundings.
Years ago he had entered his fortress, a bunker against the assault of the world. With a defiant yell, he had passed into non-existence. What drew him forth from seclusion was a mystery that drew upon his heart. Yet into the light he once again emerged.
Expecting the lush green of grass and trees, his sun bit eyes absorbed the grey cast ruins of life. Grass that should have been growing in fresh tenderness was but ash. All that remained of the trees were but silent skeletons, coldly mocking him as their charred branches reached out. Gone was the blue sky, replaced with a grey overcast – not of clouds, but of sunlight which was bleached of all color.
Lifting his feeble leg, he gingerly stepped forward into this wilderness of desolation. Only the sounds of the cruel biting wind greeted his ears as they strained to listen for any signs of life. On he trudge as dust stirred with each footstep.
Eventually he reached the outskirts of civilization. Dark humanoid forms mingled in the distance, seemingly unaware of his gaze. He continue forward, approaching the remains of civilization.
Around him were the shades of people, cold and empty in their endless march. Couples held hands, as children grasped on to the backs of coats. In vain he sought for companionship, only to find that his calls went unheeded. He searched for those who would not only see him, but welcome him with warm arms and a loving heart. Instead, he found empty mockery and cold judgment as those whom he cared for turned a cold shoulder.
His heart heavy once more, he shambled back to his old shelter. The bunker of concrete and steel would welcome him in it’s cold embrace. At least there he knew his position in life. There he knew that he would not be judged. There, he would find the deep love of frozen solitude.
“Farewell to the world of it’s empty promises, Thus the mockery of life remains. Meaningless love sprouts as weeds - now dry, Where sincerity will never reign.”
Morning draws near, and with it another day filled with pain and memories of loss. Until we meet again...
Replies
GOD BLESS YOU,,, i have no children so i wouldn\'t dare say i understand this but i\'ve experienced lost,, children are magical an know love from distances further than you,, write love letters to each whether you mail them or not explaining your journey an expressing your love,, this journey colored with heartbreak has a silver lining seek to live there rather in despair,,the Divine Creator Blessed this journey an all innocent will prevail all guilty will answer an forgiveness will heal all wounds,, Amen Amen Amen
Wow. I\'m having trouble finding words right now and tears are running down my face. My heart hurts for your loss. I won\'t begin to say I know how you feel. I don\'t. I can\'t even imagine having my boys taken from me the way your precious girls were taken from you. Calculated by a lie and we\'ve talked about some of this and I do understand the depths of the despair you were in to try to take your life, because the biggest part of your heart had been ripped out. I DON\'T understand how all of your rights were taken away because of that. So unfair. So wrong.
Ofcourse not being physically present in your girl\'s lives doesn\'t make you any less of a loving , caring father. I know you are. I know you hope for the day you are reunited with them and I pray that it will happen . I promise you I do. I also believe that not all wounds heal in time. I believe you can put a \' bandaid\' for awhile , but the bandaids get ripped off and the wounds are raw and they hurt so much and then you put another bandaid on again. The cycle continues and I\'m sure you never know when the bandaid is going to come off. I wish more than anything that you didn\'t have the wounds that needed to be healed in your heart. I wish you didn\'t suffer the physical pain you do and I do believe you endure it and fight because of your girls. I\'m so happy that you have the love of your wife and that you found a way to trust again and find love. I really am. I know that none of us can truly understand because we haven\'t been through what you have. Even though I have pain everyday ( and I know you don\'t like me comparing my pain to yours ), I don\'t have the level of relentless pain that you do and I hate that you have to live in the physical pain that you do and you know I pray for you to find a doc who can treat it and lessen the pain. ( more than the Lyrica does ).
I can understand why Easter is a very painful time for you even though it\'s about Jesus Christ being crucified and rising again and dying on the cross to save us from our sins. It\'s symbolism brings pain for you because this is when your ex did what she did and took your girls away. I would feel the same way. I know I would. I know that you are a man of Faith and God understands why you feel the way you do. I hope that your faith comforts you now.
Your writings are so good and so profound. I\'m blown away with your talent. Absolutely blown away. I think you said in your profile you are a published poet. I can see why. You are an amazing writer. Keep writing P. Keep sharing. I\'m so sorry for the pain you endure. The physical and emotional. Thank you for sharing this journal and I\'m blessed to have you as my friend.
Comforting hugs~
Gaye