The Cycle Continues

Saturday morning, I’m washing dishes with only a few pots and pans left. I lift my head and glance out the kitchen window. The flowers have bloomed, I notice the garden could use a little TLC, I see a blue jay taking a bath, and the rocks that were kicked on the sidewalk. Then I see you sitting on the front step. My twelve-year-old with shaggy blonde hair. You’re wearing your Chicago Bulls jersey, faded and torn blue jeans, and your black and white Nike’s that you dug out of your closet last night.

You’re playing with your shoe laces and I can tell that you’re a bit anxious, but I know how excited you are because you’ve been talking about it since Tuesday! Your dad will be here at 11:30 to pick you up to go fishing and you’ll be back here at 6:30 for supper. He called me Tuesday morning and had Saturday set aside for you and I know how special that makes you feel. It’s now 11:35 and you’re still sitting outside, playing with your shoe laces. I know he isn’t going to show, but you still have hope and it breaks my heart.

It breaks my heart because I am the one who has to walk out there, sit beside you, and take that hope away.

I shouldn’t have too, and I don’t want too.

Your hope shouldn’t be taken away from you and as often as it is, I still can’t tell you no when you want to call your dad. I cannot control the choices your father makes and the lost hope he gives you. But I am here. I will take you fishing, I will bait your hook, and I can take a picture of you with the fish you catch. I can do all of those things and I will.

But I know, deep down- it won’t be enough. I already play both roles and I know you need more than what I can provide. I wish I could do it all, I really do. But there will be times throughout your life when the only person you need is your father, and he won’t be there. My heart aches looking at you right now.

You picked out those Nike shoes just for today, you thought he would really like them and you felt proud to wear them, as you should.

But your dad, your dad he’s on speed and you are a low priority. But I can’t tell you that. That’s what’s so tricky about this parenting thing. I need to be there in every way I can and in every way that you need, but so does your dad, and he’s not. So, I’m struggling to do what is right because inside I’m angry and hurt that he isn’t here. It makes me hate him even though I don’t want to. Because I see how much it hurts you and I know if I were to tell you how I felt it wouldn’t be fair to you. It wouldn’t make sense to you. It would put you in the middle of a situation where you felt you had to pick sides, but you wouldn’t even understand why.

But that is my job, to find a way for you to know that I am here, I love you and I won’t leave. But to also, not let you think that I’m keeping you from forming a relationship with your father. What I’m doing right now may feel right but I don’t know if it’s helping you in the long run and there is no way for me to know this.

Today I’m washing dishes, I look around and see a few birds fly by, I see paw prints in the snow, the sky is blue, and the sun is shining. You no longer have shaggy hair and those Nike’s no longer fit your feet.

You’ve started a family of your own and your little girl loves to go fishing; and as hard as I tried to keep that lost hope from destroying a part of you, I didn’t succeed. I can see that now.

Because her dad, her dad chose opioids and she is a low priority. But I can’t tell her that, because it wouldn’t be fair to her and she wouldn’t understand. She would feel like she had to pick sides but wouldn’t even understand why.

The cycle continues. The lost hope still lingers, and my heart still aches looking at her, because I’ve seen this before.

I saw it in you.

I tried my hardest, I really did. I played both roles, but I knew, I knew it wouldn’t be enough. Because you needed a father and you needed someone to teach you things that I could not. You craved his support, you longed for his love, you simply wanted his approval. But you didn’t get those things. You didn’t get the things that you deserved.

For that, I am sorry. For that, I question what I could have done differently. But I know in this given moment I need to take a step back because that is out of my control. But please, look at her long blonde hair. She craves your support and she longs for your love.

Break the cycle. Give her hope. Pay attention to her shoes.

Make her feel proud to wear them.