Years ago--

My now ex lover and I fought.

I thought it was over her addictions--

But it was just as much due to my own pride.

Because I gave up...

     My own virtue,

     My own self-esteem,

     My own sense of identity,

     And threw my dignaty into the wind,

My anger laid dormant on the surface,

     But seethed at her under the cold blanket of snow.

However, I was messed up too.

I rationalized this all as "LOVING HER" for the "SAKE" of her.

She saw me as,


    Controlling...and I was.

My efforts to "help" her out of her addiction,

Only enabled the stress on the relationship.

If I did nothing,

I sacrificed myself.

If I helped her, and she didn't want it,

It was all in vain, and just pissed her off.

Yet, she could not tell me this.

I went from one co-dependant relationship into her home...


To say we "Parted",

Isn't true.

I say we...

"survived two flames engines colliding on a one way track".

She says...

"We took turns, playing Hitler and the jew."

She stayed "away" to do her drugs...

And I was left with her angry children.

With everything as it was, and my illness,

I could not cope.

I had to call Child Protective Services.

I remember the glare,

           the anger,

           the hatred,

As her youngest child walked out the door.

She would loos contact with her beloved friends,

Temporarily, have no one to talk to,

Except her sister that would be at least 150 miles away,

And who was struggling with her own problems.


It is five years later.

My ex and I are talking.

Even laughing,

And often, we say--

"I'm not even going there."

Sometimes old nerves aren't as dead as we might think.

But if we choose to make the pain an issue,





Then the future never gets lived.

I was there...

When her oldest daughter gave birth.

Her maturity,

At that moment,

Shattered all the knowledge of the world,

Every bit of it I had accumulated over my years.

Jaimie became a woman.

With one more life I could never have.

Her son, Marquay--

Is undauntingly loving,

But he still lets you know that even though he's four,

HE runs the house.

What is worse, is he knows it.

Instead of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid,

It's Sponge Bob-Square Pants and Bob the Builder,

With guest appearances by Barney and his dinosaur pals.

Dante, her newborn,

Is the most content, happy baby I have ever held.

A child that loves to smile more than cry is a treasure.

LaToya, the other daughter,

The one I called to put into State custody...

Has her own child now, too...a son.

LaToya forgave me years ago,

But I could not forgive myself.

When things crumbled,

My life

Their lives,

Their mother's life,

I felt largely at fault.

That one phone call plunged through the water,

And sent rings of anger to the edges of this "family".

Yet, today,

I sat reeling...

LaToya's resilience--

Not only helped her bounce back,

But she honored ME.

If I ever had children,

I knew, always knew,

What their names would have been.

She took that name I had created for my own son,

And gave it to her child.


I sometimes think--

These were "My Daughters",

These boys, "My Grandsons."

Life is short,

Heartaches are plenty.

I pray that the only trains that these children play with,

Are the electric ones...

Unlike the catastrophe's that tear family's apart.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Even though I have reconciled my differences with my ex, and I have some resolution, I have chose to not stay in touch.  Things still hurt, and yet it is a painful situation to know that in order to stay in "good space" for myself, I have to sacrifice seeing my daughters and my grandsons.  I wish them all the luck in the world.  Thank-you for helping me find blessing again...all of you.

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