One irreversible act of selfishness
Can you take it back?
In the wee hours of the night, long past twilight, I hover. Like the coward I am, I come late at night. Seeing some form of peace in my children is all I need. The only form of reentry I can manage.
I always begin this journey with Hope. Her translucent face brings a pool of bitter tears to my face. She’s talking in her sleep again. What is she dreaming?
I glide silently, gracelessly down the hall to Michael’s room.
He’s tossing and turning yet again, never quite able to slow his body down. He’s so much taller than the last time I saw him. He radiates a heart of gold — such a dichotomy. The sheer power of his anger is ever-present, even as he sleeps. Nothing can extinguish this fire.
Michael is over 6 feet tall now. He looks like his father and acts like him too. He’s developed thick skin, is intelligent and always looking for a fight. Remember the old saying, ‘a hammer looking for a nail?’
Hope is more like me. She is beautiful no matter how many lights cast shadows on her tender face. She has a sense of style that is unique, and so her. She just doesn’t know it yet. She is still so fragile.
They’ve changed so much over the past many years. They are not babies anymore, but forever my babies. What I regret most is leaving them.
It feels like a sin, intolerable, inexcusable.
As much as I’ve tried, I can’t take it back. I’ve thought long and hard. What else can I do? So much time on my hands. This one selfish act destroyed my beautiful dysfunctional family.
Visions of Hope crying quietly, inconsolable, and all alone, haunt me. The tracks of cuts up her arm are evidence of the harm I’ve done. How could I have been so cruel?
And my sweet, kind Michael, punching holes in the wall, fingers bloody, is heavy on my mind! Heart of gold with a wave of anger and rage that can’t be tamed.
It’s another night floating like ether in the Universe.
While I visit often, I can’t bare to stay long. The pain is too much. So I exit as quickly and quietly as I entered.
The pain I feel tonight is comparable to that I felt on that fateful night. I couldn’t live anymore. I just couldn’t. In my fog, I saw no way out! Their “why’s” reverberate, bouncing off the walls!
My daughter continues to cry quietly. My son’s rage grows. I can’t go back and tell them why. I took a piece of their hearts when I made the decision.
Impulsive, irresponsible, irreversible.
The gun felt so natural in my hand. It felt like the only answer. You can’t take back what you can’t take back. So I live in the land of the unforgiven.
I linger a few more moments. As I wipe the tears away, I ask the same question over and over. Why?
Will I ever be able to reenter their lives? Why can’t I help my children understand why?
jannys heart 2021
