My Healing Heart (from the beginning)

How many times have you ended up broken hearted?

By: A woman with little girl dreams

Part 1

 

How many times have you ended up broken hearted? How many tears have fallen from your cheek? How many times have you cried yourself to sleep? How many losses continue to haunt your mind, heart, and soul? I don’t think I could give you an answer or I wouldn’t want to. In my lifetime I lost my Dad to divorce, my step-brother to suicide, my grandmother to a stroke, my grandfather to pneumonia, my uncle to an overdose, dear friends to car-wrecks, step-dad that raised me to cancer, paternal grandfather to insufficient medical care at a local hospital, my ex-brother-in-law to a heroin overdose, my ex mother-in-law (possible prolonged drug abuse), and I could just keep going. In-between lets add all of the relationships, non-relationships, sexual relationships, marriages, friendships, and family relations that we encounter in our lifetime. How do we heal from tragedy and heartbreak? Time does not heal all wounds, it may make them easier to deal with. It may sting a little less, or you may eventually be able to talk about it without tears.

My earliest memory that has haunted me for 38 years is one of my dad leaving our home. I can remember as a toddler, holding onto his leg and begging him not to leave. I cried until I made myself sick, holding on as if I could keep him from leaving. I remember sitting in the kitchen floor of the single wide trailer we lived in, there was thick burnt orange carpet and a garden style window at the end where our living room was. I remember sitting on the cold linoleum watching my dad leave. My mom comforted me as best she could until I fell asleep. I didn’t see my dad again until I was 14 years old. My dad signed his rights over as the child support was something he couldn’t handle paying. I often wondered what it was like to just say, “Here, you can have her, I don’t want to be a dad anymore.”

I couldn’t wait to go to the post office on my Birthday or Christmas, I always hoped my dad would send me a card, present or at least call me on my birthday or Christmas. In fourteen years all I received was one card and two random phone calls.

At fourteen I had questions, but the excitement of meeting my dad again was worth more than the answers at the time. I always dreamed about what my dad was like, and how he would feel when he sees me? Would he want to be my dad? Would he love me?

The day came when my mom left an abusive marriage and we were fast on our way to a place he couldn’t find us. I didn’t know that on 4th of July I would meet my dad for the first time since I was two. I met other family I didn’t really know as I had only visited my grandparents once in fourteen years. I had a half-sister and I had to figure out how to feel about that. I was a bit resentful at first because my dad lived with her and wanted her, why not me?

Years have gone by now and I will skip the first Birthday and holidays that I spent with my dad, step-mom, and sister because the number is less than ten. We barely keep in touch, holidays I usually call because I just want to hear his voice. My dad’s voice is so kind and his hugs feel so good…I just don’t understand why he still doesn’t want to be a part of my life.   I have waited 38 years to feel loved by him and we are still at the same place we were at when I was 14…strangers.
My first encounter with rejection from a man that was supposed to love me has been weighing on me for 38 years. This was just the beginning of all of the hurts and rejections, and heartbreaks I would receive in my lifetime. More to come….

 

 

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