Some days are harder than others.
Some days it doesn’t even cross my mind.
I can go a few days without even thinking about it.
Then I do.
Usually out of no where.
During no particularly special moment.
It just hits me.
Like a ton of bricks.
It comes down on me.
Other times, it is when I am rocking my daughter to sleep or giving my son a bath or doing homework with my oldest.
She did those same things with me.
Now she is gone.
No one died, but what was left of a relationship did.
It was not good.
Our relationship had always been strained.
At least since I can remember.
For years I bowed down.
I kept quiet and just took it.
Then I found a voice.
I realized I could speak up.
And I did.
It helped me.
But it annoyed her.
I realized our relationship would never be great.
I started to cope with that.
It is what it is.
She is human.
I can acknowledge that.
No one is perfect.
We all have a past.
Full of heartache, mistakes, and unfortune.
But taking responsibility and being accountable for that past is crucial.
In 2018, for the first time she admitted that I did not deserve what happened to me.
But it was too late.
Turns out what happened to me was the least of things.
I’m not sure what hurts more…
The fact that she has never met my daughter, or that my oldest had a relationship with her and she has not even asked about him.
Maybe some day.