Then it happens…

What I fail to realize a majority of the time is that Im not there yet.  That while, compared to a few years ago, or stood up beside someone elses life, mine looks pretty damn good right now.  But then, I think about how far Ive yet to go, and the areas I still struggle in, and the things that I really havent even touched on…my mind shuts down, because honestly, I havent come all that far, and days, weeks like these just prove that.

While a few years ago, I didnt see myself leaving the house I was living in, to move to some place like this, to be doing what Im doing, I also didnt see myself picking up the pieces and trying to repair a broken life…or rather, three small broken lives.  What I didnt realize then, and still fail to realize a majority of the time is that I cant…I cant fix broken lives, I cant.  But boy, can I try.

This week has been one wicked ride, in a warped sense of humor sort of way.  Its just been…bad.  Molly’s ashes came back Sunday.  That in itself should say it all…but it doesnt, because that in itself, shouldnt make any difference….Let me reword it, how about?  It was Sunday.  Mothers day.  THAT day.

I came home from work with a list of things to accomplish in my 6 extra hours that I didnt have to be working,  but then….I saw a box…sitting on the front steps.  No address.  No name.  Just a box.  I shifted the things I was carrying, and reached down and picked it up…stumbling my way into the house, and setting the box and other items down.  I forgot about it….for a few hours, but remembered it when I sat down to breath for a few minutes after unsuccessfully attempting to reinstall the damn window.

I set my glass down, and reached for the box.  Looked it over, and popped it open.  Inside the carboard box was another box…one that looked vaguely familiar.  I tried to remember where I had seen it at before…but couldnt remember, and being the moron I am, I flung it open.  The next 15 minutes were spent pacing back and forth trying to not to loose my insides.  Reminding myself that this was some….version of a joke…someones…joke gone wrong.  I worked up enough guts to go back over to the box, and only when I was putting it back in, did a small piece of paper fall out.  I tossed it on the table, and at arms length, carried the box to the bedroom, and sat it inside, a sigh of relief followed.

I was still shaking when I opened the letter, and there, in scribbled hand writing, was a note that read: “Shes been your daughter longer than shes been mine.  Please dont return these”  then….her name.  I stared at it a few minutes, trying to understand what it meant.  Molly wasnt my daughter, infact, she wasnt even mine.  It all came flooding back, and nothing could keep my mind from remembering, although I tried.  I threw a few things, and slammed the door on my way out.  Started the truck and headed off for town.  The only thing that was clear at that moment was her mom had apparently returned her ashes.

Its been a while…..a little while since Ive been that shaken up about something.  There isnt anything quite like opening some….box…to find that which you didnt want to find.  My mind tried to process things…everything came at once.  She wasnt suppose to be cremated in the first place, but she was, and I had gotten stuck with the ashes.  They crept me out, they made the decision for me to move in the first place, I didnt know what to do with them, and after a long story later, I found her mom, and gave them to her, and thought I had seen them for the last time.

I played dodge the tourist as I weaved through town, and finally arrived at my destination.  The liquor store.  I sat outside a few minutes, tossing back and for the the idea….I got out, and went in.  I looked around, and took in the all to familiar smells….touching the bottles, fantasizing over buying one.  I stuck my hands back in my pockets and headed out.  Empty handed.  I wasnt going to throw away all that in one day…if I was going to drink, I was going to think it over for a few days first, not because I was mad, upset, and totally freaked out by a stupid box.  No.  I wasnt going to do that again.

I headed home, and sat outside a few minutes.  Arms crossed over the steering wheel, chin resting on them, staring.  At the house.  The run down little shack Im proud to be in.  The one with the broken windows, faded siding, leaking roof, creaking floor, and torn up insides.  The one with no memories, the one that I was going to start over in.  Now…I have to move.  I have to leave behind the one thing that appeared to be perfect, and move on…because of some cruel joke.

I opened the door to the bedroom, and looked around once again, the cold wind blew in from the window…the broken window…the one I was suppose to be fixing.  The pile of boxes had decreased somewhat, and the floor was begging to show…the old floor…the one that needs replaced.  The room, that someday was suppose to be the kids…the room…..I got lost in thought…standing there looking around, thinking of the kids, of Molly.  I shut the door and took another look around the main room.  The kitchen, room, and everything else, crammed into a small space, cluttered with boxes and junk.

I picked up the papers that had blown around and the misc items that I had tossed.  I took one more look at the scribbled out note, and stuffed it in my pocket, I pulled on my coat and went back to fixing the window.  I wasnt giving up, not now…not when Im this close.  Shes back, now all I have to do is get the other three…Ill deal with the remains when the time comes….Ill deal with the thoughts and overly dramatics later….but for now, shes the first one to be in the room that is for them…the room, that isnt finished yet.

Im not done, Im not there, and I never will be.  Its time I get used to it…time I figure it out…and time I stop expecting things to be over with….its time…to move on.   Even though, there are some things, that I will simply never be ok with…and this just happens to be one of them.   I cant fix her life any more than I can fix the other kids lives.  I cant be ok with the fact that shes gone, or the fact that…”shes” in the other room, I cant.  I havent come that far…I havent really changed…I havent fixed anything, or moved on any…but its time to get a move on it…maybe this is a start.


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