First Position Parallel

A modern blog

The Last Page March 19, 2014

Filed under: Uncategorized — jenniphur @ 10:33 pm
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The last page of one of Ex’s notebooks contained more clues about his suicide than anything else I read. He had mentioned on the first page of that notebook that he would suffer no more. On the last page, he talked about how he just wanted to be loved and could not be loved, could not find love. We had split. He had traveled overseas to meet a woman he met online who did not click with him in person. He didn’t believe that anyone cared about him or loved him.

He talked about how much pain he felt. He suffered every day. On the last page, he wrote that the moon was full, he had his gun loaded, and that his dog was the only reason he couldn’t go through with his selfish act that night. It sounded like he attempted but that the dog would whine or bark, reminding him of a reason to stay, so he didn’t do it. Not that night. 

I looked up when the lunar calendar for September 2009. We had a full moon on Friday, September 4th. I didn’t know he had prepared himself for the two and a half weeks preceding the day he decided he’d had enough of this life, that he would “suffer no more.”

It has always made sense to me that he took some excursions through the forest on 4-wheel-drive trails during the two weeks prior to his death. He loved the Fall and the colors. They don’t last long here, about two weeks in September. I only know he made those trips because of the photos he took with the camera that we shared.  

What does not make sense to me, not that suicide makes sense to me anyway, but it does not make sense that I found no mention of our son as a reason to stay.

That boggles me!

I have never understood how he could leave his own child. I know I will probably never understand it. I will stop trying to understand it. It makes me sad though. It makes me sad that he left him, us, that he gave up on a chance to make his son’s life what his wasn’t.

Our son makes me a better person because I want a good life for us. He gives me a reason to stand up for myself and for him. He gives me a reason to mother to my best ability. He gives me reason to always learn and question and wonder and dream. He makes me smile. I love him more than words can express. I can’t imagine life without him. 

Ex had also written on the last page that he didn’t want to talk to his dad because he would talk him out of “going through with it.” He did not refer to his dad as his dad, though. He used a special term to signify that expressed Ex’s regard for him in the same manner that he did when he was a child. It wasn’t foul, but it wasn’t nice. The physical abuse Ex endured as a child tortured Ex his whole life. From conversations we had, I don’t think he ever understood why his parents brought him into the world. Maybe his parents didn’t know either. They were so young!

Ex’s dad told me that at the end of the last conversation they had, Ex didn’t say, “I love you,” at the end. He just said, “Bye.” Withholding his words probably made it easier for Ex to let go, let it all go. 

So I put off reading those notebooks this long. It feels good to have done it. Reading his words has stuck to me the last two days like a layer of gauze with static cling that slowly releases. I will let go of those words, too, not forget but let go, and I will always, always, love my son. 

 

Of All the Things March 17, 2014

Filed under: Uncategorized — jenniphur @ 11:16 pm
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Of all the things I got rid of during my last move, a mere 7 and a half months ago, yes, I wish I had kept one thing: the boot dryer.

Why, oh, why did I ever think getting rid of the boot dryer would be a good idea? 

It wasn’t. 

I hadn’t used it in years, three years, so it fit the criteria for getting rid of stuff. I remember giving it to the thrift store without question. 

I want it back. I have to buy a new one. 

The new one will have new energy. It will not remind me of Ex or how I planned to get him that boot dryer one Christmas. He loved it and used it every day. 

The new one will remind me to make wise decisions, such as, keeping boot dryers when you live in a snowy climate and to never, ever get rid of any kitchen item, even the candy thermometer that gets used once a year, if that. 

 

One Mug Lighter

Filed under: Uncategorized — jenniphur @ 11:08 pm
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Little Guy and I made hot cocoa after skiing one day this weekend. He saw the pure cocoa powder in the pantry and wanted to know what it tasted like this weekend. 

“Lick your finger, stick it in there and find out. It tastes bitter,” I said.

“What’s bitter?” he asked.

“Have you ever eaten orange peel?” I asked him. 

“Yes.”

“That’s bitter. So’s the cocoa powder. It’s not sweet or salty,” I said.

Little Guy put his finger in the power and pulled it out and when he pulled back his hand, it knocked over a mug onto the floor.

CRASH! went the mug.

“Was that your favorite mug, Mom?” he asked.

“Nope,” I said. “Get the broom.”

While we swept, I said, “I can’t believe you just helped me have less to pack for moving. That is so nice of you! What a help you are!”

I really meant it. I’m one mug lighter than last week. I’m about to be one pair of pants lighter, too, because the pair I wore to work today tore in the knee.

Sweet! Two things out and 500 more to go. 

 

My Own Elephant

Filed under: Uncategorized — jenniphur @ 11:01 pm
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I have these bins. They sit in my living space. They are my very own elephant in the room. I put the bins in my living space to give me reason to go through them. I did not put them in the garage or storage space for a reason. They contain Ex’s things, some of my things, but mostly Ex’s or photos of him. They have also housed the notebooks that the detective studied as evidence when Ex died. 

The notebooks contained his writing, horrific spelling and all for the Dyslexic man. They have remained in their plastic encasing, sealed with a red “Evidence” tape until tonight. I have put off opening them for the last 4 and a half years, almost to the day.

I considered not reading them. I considered just throwing them out. I still could. Ex’s dad asked me to send them to him after Ex died. I made no promises about the timeline. I feel obligated to send them because I said I would. I still feel undecided about sending them.

They bring me no joy, and I should therefore get rid of them. 

Ex filled the notebooks with words of hope to the Russian and Ukrainian women to whom he wrote weekly and met on a dating site. In the back of one, he expressed his pain.

His dad caused him so much pain, physically, emotionally. He never got through it. He didn’t feel like his parents loved him. What a horrible feeling! I can’t even imagine. I do not want to send the notebooks and cause more pain in the world. I also feel like his dad should know.

He also wrote about how he didn’t think I loved him. Ever. Eight years of marriage. Together for nearly ten. It wasn’t easy, but to think I didn’t love him at all. I feel like I just swam in tar.

After he died, his family told me that I made his life better. He had the happiest moments of his life while he was with me. And I question that. Maybe he did. Maybe he didn’t . Maybe he married his mom, so to speak. I know we didn’t have an ideal relationship, didn’t communicate well, but it wasn’t all me and it wasn’t all him. Despite that, we made it work for a pretty long time.

I have to take what he wrote in context as well. Ex probably wrote those few words during some of his darkest moments where his thoughts could only go one way: down the toilet.

Since Ex’s death, I have reminded myself to remember the good times and let go of all the bad. I think I’ve done a pretty good job at forgetting a whole heck of a lot. His sister told me that Ex was one of the most difficult people she ever knew. It made me feel a lot better to know that I wasn’t the only one who felt that way. 

Reading Ex’s writings reiterates to me how important it is to tell and show the people I love that I love them. I want Little Guy to grow up with no doubt about that. Apologizing can also go a long way. I read that I never apologized. I’m not sure if it was directed at me or Ex’s dad. Either way, an ‘I’m sorry’ would have helped a little. 

Onward and with less stuff, I will conquer my elephant in the room. The bins will turn back into bins rather than bins that make me take a deep breath before opening them. I hope that the bins serve as moving vessels and remain empty during my next lease. It’s time for the elephant to go, so I can just be me again.

 

 

Box It Up March 14, 2014

Filed under: Uncategorized — jenniphur @ 11:02 pm
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LIttle Guy and I looked at another place to live tonight. It would suit us perfectly, but it does not allow pets. I’ve got a plan, though. Don’t worry. Wait, that’s not the plan. I always worry. I have a plan for the cat. It’s not ideal for the cat, but it would allow us to move to a better place without worrying about him. My mom, the best person on the planet that I have ever met, agreed to take care of him for me. She already has cats, and he would stay in his own room, the one we stay in when we visit. It would allow us to move.

The place is quiet. And furnished. And on the top floor with skylights. It has doors! And a full kitchen! And did I mention quiet? 

I haven’t told the owner one way or the other yet. I wanted the night to think it over. I have made the decision to take it. I need it. I need a quiet place where we can get our rest. It should never be too much to ask for. I can afford it, too. It will be a little more than what I pay now, but the tranquility will be worth it, as well as having a healthier mental state. 

I want to look forward to going home again. 

 

 

My Big, Fat Mouth

Filed under: Uncategorized — jenniphur @ 9:42 pm
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Little Guy and I like to dream. We dream about the house we want to build together. We dream about the house he wants for himself when he’s an adult. He said he wanted a house, a big house, as big as the one that his dad and I had together. 

I said, “When will you have the time to clean it?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “You don’t want a big house again?”

“No, I would never want a house that big again. It was too much for me. I couldn’t keep it clean by myself,” I said.

“But what about my dad?” he asked. “He was there to help you clean it.”

I snorted. “Yeah, but…”

“Is that why you got divorced?” LIttle Guy asked me.

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That’s what it looks like when my forehead hits the keyboard. It isn’t pretty.

I regretted my words. Fortunately, we went inside his school right then, saving me from putting my foot in my mouth any further.

On our way home, I apologized to Little Guy for what I said about his dad. I don’t want him to have negative feelings or memories about his dad. I expressed my appreciation for everything else his dad did, even though it didn’t help me clean the house. He worked hard to provide for us. He built the best porch I had ever seen or owned. He did a lot, and I don’t want to take that for granted.

 

Hugs and Kisses

Filed under: Uncategorized — jenniphur @ 9:32 pm
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A few nights ago during dinner, Little Guy and I blew kisses to each other and gave each other finger hugs across the table. I want to keep that memory forever.

 

 
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