Grief is Our Souls’ Way of Letting Us Know We Love
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The Christmas Blues hit me tonight. I wasn’t particularly looking forward to doing the tree and the house, because my back has been killing me.
But that isn’t an option, of course. I’m not about to miss decorating for one more holiday, after we skipped Halloween.
I had finished putting the lights on the big tree. We have a lot of decorations, and it takes a few days to get to them all.
I made the mistake of opening a metal Christmas tin that held my youngest two girls’ past Christmas cards to us.
This would have been a wonderful and joyous thing. Except that one of my youngest daughters left several years ago.
Her dad died 10 years ago, and she spent many years struggling with her grief. We tried everything we could. She would get better for a year or two, and then fall in, once again, with some really dodgy people.
Sadly, she fell in with a man literally twice as old as she is. He’s got 5 kids, and it’s a good bet they are all by different “baby mamas.” They both stay “medicated 24/7.”
By “medicated,” I mean they use pure THC constantly throughout their days (this is the component in marijuana that gets you high). I’m not sure where they get the money. As far as I can tell from Social Media, he doesn’t actually work or have any sort of a job.
One time, a couple of years back, my daughter posted that she had tried to quit “dabbing,” as they call it.
She had the shakes. She experienced stomach cramps. This went on for over a day and then, her “baby” saved her by giving her more of this crap to smoke.
To say I was sick to my stomach and furious, to boot, would probably be the understatement of the century.
She will not see any of us, if he is not included. After seeing his facebook posts for months and months, and reading his entries, my nausea turned to fury.
Many of his posts were selfies of himself in the bathtub, “dabbing.” He was clearly very in love with himself and clearly delusional. He also had the vocabulary of a Fourth Grader.
Tragically, they got married this past summer. He wore something like a wife-beater with about 30 long necklaces. My heart literally broke.
Anyway, tonight I read this handmade card from my very loving, very sweet daughter, as well as several more years’ worth.
After we made it clear to her, years ago, that we loved her and missed her, but that we did not want him in our lives, my daughter reached out to her birthmom.
Her birthmother, being a genuine sweetie pie, invited them both to their house for dinner one night.
The creep dominated the entire evening. Her birthmom’s sister, a psychologist, thought my daughter’s boyfriend was a controlling narcissist. She is not allowed to talk. She is not allowed to see any of her huge family without him present.
My daughter’s birthmom later told her that, although she was always welcome in their home, they did not wish to be engaged further with this guy.
How do you deal with a daughter who is being controlled by some jerk? She is over 21 and legally, there is nothing any of us can do.
Somehow, he fills a gap left behind when her dad died. Clearly, he makes her feel treasured, even as he’s keeping her from her family.
He has convinced her that she was “abused” as a child. Well, if you call “spoiled to death” abuse, then I plead guilty. That kid was about as loved as any person on the face of this earth.
So, tonight, I am mourning her. I am not convinced she will ever come back to us, but there isn’t a minute in any given day in which I don’t think of her, with love and longing, and sorrow.
I hope that, deep down, she still holds the true memories of our family. There was plenty of sorrow, with the loss of her dad. There were also many, many years of happy memories. We all loved her. And our lives are so less rich, because of her absence.
I have no choice but to continue to say my prayers. My kids have all reached out to her, to no avail. I’m hoping and praying that, someday, she will see the light. Back to those who truly love her, who will let her be free.
I guess this all goes to show that we aren’t real, if we don’t feel.
Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas. Vicky