MsNscr

Hatred Is Not A Family Value

I have a lot of hate. A lot. I know exactly where it comes from. I have chosen in the past to not face it, and while I’d like to keep doing that, I just can’t. I can’t carry around this heavy hate anymore.

I know why I am the way I am. It’s the same exact reason that Ryan is the way he is. My mom and dad fought like crazy (solely because dad was always mad). He picked fights on purpose, just because he didn’t know how to show any other emotion but anger. Mike and I fought like crazy (solely because I was always mad). I picked fights on purpose, just because I didn’t know how to show any other emotion but anger. I was fed anger, so angry is what I became.  There was no love between my mom and dad and there was no love between Mike and I. My parents made me a victim, just like I made Ryan a victim. That’s not an emotion one should force on a child.

I’ve spent five years away from Ryan. I’ve missed milestone after milestone. I’ve been able to watch him change into an amazing 10½ year old from a silly 5 year old boy, through pictures and frosted glass.

As I sing along to lyrics of a familiar song, the teardrops fall hard.

(familiar song)

A day might come and you'll realize
That if you could see through my eyes
There was no other way to work it out
And a part of you might hate me
But son please don't mistake me
For a man that didn’t care at all

The teardrops are soon replaced with streams and before I know it, I’m face down in a pillow just wishing I could fall asleep so I wasn’t thinking about it anymore.

I’ve become a bit more observant about the parenting skills of those around me. I shake my head at some, yet nod in agreement with others. I’m much more confident about my own parenting skills today, than I was 11 years ago and I long for the days when I am given another chance at doing what I think is the greatest thing in the world…helping a child full of dreams , hopes and imaginations, become an amazing adult.

I miss Ryan. I miss him a lot. If I let the overwhelming pain of not being a part of his life get to me, it would consume me entirely and I would never get out of bed. I have pictures of Ryan hung on walls in my bedroom. I have one of my favorite photos of Ryan and I, framed in my bathroom. I have something hanging from the rear view mirror of my car that he made for me 5 years ago. I write to him often (in a blog since he doesn’t have an email). I never stop thinking about him. He’s on my mind more than anything else. I bet my dad can’t say that.