Part of me...

"I felt like she loved me enough for the both of them..." As soon as the words came out of my mouth my heart sank. It was true. It had been true all those years. Because part of me still hated him. Part of me still hates him.

I remember she used to say "At least he doesn't hit me." As if somehow that would have been worse. I often thought it would have been better. Then she wouldn't have stayed and he would have been punished for his sins.

Instead she suffered. We all suffered. We are all wounded. Some more than others.   From the outside looking in it seemed normal. Just your everyday family. She made excuses for him.  He was that way because of how he grew up, he didn't mean what he said and so on and so forth.

Misery, they say, loves company. I often wondered why he couldn't see past his own misfortunes, why he couldn't forgive himself, why he couldn't just let go. I mostly wondered why he had chosen to be so angry. He seemed to despise our happiness, like we should feel the way he felt even though we never really knew.

He sacrificed for me, took care of me and paid my way. I know he loved me. I know he loves me. But part of me can't let go. Part of me hated him. Part of me still hates him.

This time

I have had an off & on presence in the blogsphere for almost 4 years.  It's been so sporadic that I can't even really call it a presence.  I've just dabbled here and there.  Apparently (as you have already guessed) I lack the discipline required to be a regular blog poster.  I'd rather this not be another failed attempt.  I don't know much about HTML or graphic design, but I know about words... so here we go... AGAIN!

I started my very first blog while I was living in Chicago in 2010.  I then attempted my next blog in late 2011/early 2012.  The third blog was created in 2012 to document my love of makeup & motherhood.  All of these have several posts, but nothing that I could run with.  "Everything that Glitterz" has been in my head and heart for a long time and on this second to the last day of 2013 I thought, why not?

There's nothing worse than regret.  Life is too short.  So here it is... my latest attempt to be a blogger.  I am a Mom, a Wife, a Daughter, Granddaughter, Sister, Aunty, Cousin and Friend.  I am a Stay at Home Mom to my two crazy kids.  My husband & I own a business.  I drive an electric car.  I live in the Pacific Northwest.  I grew up in Hilo.  I have worked as a Makeup Artist.  Reading was my first passion.  Writing my second.

I have a million siblings (okay, maybe just 6) and am the oldest.  One of my brothers is in prison and it has been life changing for all of us.  I'd like to be more organized and I wish I knew about interior design.  I feel an instant connection to people who own dachshunds and fellow electric car drivers.  I'm a 30 something year old taking each day as it comes.  I like sparkly things, but as we all know: Everything that glitters.. isn't gold.

I wrote him a letter

Revisiting something I wrote in the beginning of September...

I wrote him a letter... about the heat and the Blackberry Festival I took the kids to.  I asked them if they wanted to say hi.  Ayden, as usual said no.  I write that his nephew says hi anyway.  Rayne is finally beginning to really talk.  "What doing?" she says as her big doll eyes look at me intently.  "Writing to Uncle Julien." I respond.  "Uncle Julien." She repeats.  But she will never know what this really means.

"What's this?" she asks while looking at my sparkly blue handwritten print.  "Words!" she says before I can answer.  I call her baby even though she is three now and most definitely not a baby.  "Yes, baby.  Words."

She was 15 months old the morning I got the phone call. 

She was 20 months old the afternoon he was charged with negligent homicide.

She was 24 months old the last time she saw him.

She was 27 months old when he accepted the plea bargain.

She was 32 months old when he went to prison.

  "Why crying, Mommy?' she says in her high pitched little voice.  But I don't respond because she is 42 months old now and she will never understand.  Off she runs with Ayden to cause chaos and mischief and I am reminded of the days long gone that Julien and I would play and laugh.  In the days before he grew up and became less interested in his family and more interested in his "friends" and getting high.  When drugs  became his best friend and our laughter in the gray house was all but a memory.

I wrote him a letter about the heat and the Blackberry Festival.  And I hoped it was enough.

Enough to know that we love him.

Enough to keep him sober.

Enough to remind him of the love and the laughter in that gray house.

Enough to be more than just a memory.