An Open Letter…

To Whom It May Concern,

Gillian was right you know. And she came to those conclusions on her own.

I just want to make sure you know that I have never lied to my children about you, and to say that I have is low. You know me better than that, or at least you should after 16 years. I am a lot of things to a lot of people but I am not a liar to my children.

I do not ever speak ill of you or put you down in front of them. I don’t do any of those things that other ex-wives do. I used to make excuses for your behavior but I stopped doing that after Matthew’s surgery.

I give my children the FACTS, not my opinions, not my own conclusions drawn from the facts, just the plain facts as they are. I allow them to draw their own conclusions, and whatever conclusions they draw from those facts, I do not try to sway them.

Gillian is growing up and she is opening her eyes. You had to have realized that this would happen some day. You could not have honestly believed that she would always accept your broken promises and lies, saying one thing and doing another.

When you called me a liar last night “believe whatever you want from her” I believe were your exact words… “If I had $400 I would be on the next bus”… Gillian came into the kitchen and said to me: You know when we lived in Whitefield he was supposed to come get us on the weekends and most of the time he never did.

And I said what I always say when one of the kids has an epiphany: “And how does that make you feel?”

Because that’s what matters, isn’t it? How they feel? How we make them feel as their parents… that is what matters. They won’t remember the things we said to them or the things we did to them, but they will always remember how we made them feel.

She said: “Not very good. I wish I was allowed to swear because I want to swear at him.”

That is how you made your daughter feel yesterday. I won’t tell you how that made ME feel, to see her like that, to watch her anger boil over, to watch her pace the floors because there was so much she wanted to say to you but didn’t think she could.

And when you posted about your merriment and dancing at my funeral… “Not a threat, but a promise” you said. Can you imagine, can you TRY to imagine, how that made Gillian and Matthew feel?

You want to know how upset she was when she saw your video of you hanging out with your girlfriend’s son? Counting pennies, saving money for HIS education, you said. She was quite pissed and upset and said to me: “Let’s not tell Matthew.” Protecting her little brother because as much as he annoys her most of the time, she doesn’t want him to hurt. She asked me how can you have time to count pennies with some kid, but you don’t have time to pick up the phone and call your own kids?

And I said what I always say when she asks me why you do the things you do: “I don’t know, what do you think?” And she forms her own thoughts and opinions. I don’t tell her what I think. I don’t think she would like my thoughts very much.

I don’t know exactly when it happened or how it happened, but she is seeing things and thinking things and figuring things out on her own. I’m sure that Matthew will soon follow. It is not my job to stop it. My job is to simply be here and help them work through their feelings, offer comfort when they need it, support at all times.

I used to think…. there used to be this time that no matter what you did, I would make excuses for you, rationalize your behavior and attitude, I believed you would come around eventually. Now I am sitting here and it’s been 11 years that I have been the mother of your children and nothing has changed. I can’t think of even one time that I thought: “He is amazing with them, he really does love them.”

And I do try to think. Not just since our divorce, but when we all lived in the same house… and I can’t think of one time I ever thought that, or felt that.

There was even a time I convinced myself this was all my fault. That maybe things would have been different if we aren’t 887  miles away. Maybe things would be different if we lived only 30 miles away. Maybe then you’d come around.

But the fact is that, growing up, I never doubted that my own father loved me. I saw him twice a month, less if he was having car trouble, and if that was the case, he always picked up the phone and called me. If I didn’t see him on my birthday I got a card in the mail and a phone call. When I got angry at him, like kids sometimes do, he never once called me pompous. Now my dad has done a lot to disappoint me in the last 31 years, it’s what parents do on occasion, they’re bound to disappoint their children at some point, but still I knew, my dad loved me, still loves me. I am 31 years old and he lives some 486 miles away (once 672 miles away recently) and yet once a week my phone rings and it’s just my dad, calling to ask me how I’m doing? How are things? How are the kids? Because he does love me and he does care. Sometimes, he even talks to the kids. Or Skypes with them.

My husband gets phone calls from his father still.

There is one father Gillian and Matthew know do not call this house, and that is their own. There is no excuse.

And how many times have I said to you: Just pick up the phone and call once a week, that is all they want. They don’t care about presents or money or anything else, they just want to talk to you. And still you don’t call. I have heard so many times from you: I’m getting my priorities straight, this time it’ll be different, I’ve opened my eyes. And still things don’t change.

I will not shoulder the blame for that, and I think Gillian has finally stopped blaming me too, Matthew has never blamed me, he doesn’t fault anyone, but I believe it’s only a matter of time before he bursts like Gillian did last night, and I don’t believe I will be the target of his anger.

I wish you could have seen them last night. I wish you could have heard them.

I can’t imagine how it feels to finally say my piece and then have it deleted like it doesn’t matter.

I am very proud of our children, even if you are not. There is still a part of me that hopes you will come around, but there is a bigger part of me that knows better.

It’s too bad you will never see this letter…

Penny

Tags: An Open Letter