Andrew

I've been praying, lately, to be freed from Andrew.  I assume that's the a large portion of the pain I've been fighting lately.  In some effort to heal from him- some form of catharsis- this post is for Andrew.

It wasn't always bad. It wasn't. He was my light. He would enter the room and I'd get all giddy. He'd call and my heart would flutter at the sound of his voice. He was my everything.  All of my dreams for life were attached to his happiness. If only I'd ever made him happy.

Daddy got a sickness in his head. Somewhere, somehow, a switch was flipped. No one on the outside can understand the reasons of his illness- be glad. Rejoice! I must teach myself to be happy that I can't fathom what he thought in the darkness of his mind. Somehow, if I were to understand, then I am as sick as he.

So some day, he made the conscience decision to act on all of those dark thoughts. That day was the end of all I'd known. But here's the rub- I continued to live in a lie for at least 11 more years. I don't know when he got sick or when he changed. So, for 11 years more, he told me he loved me... and lied to my face. In the end, he told a friend our marriage had been over after the second year. He just never let me know.

He never loved me.

never.

So there are days when I miss him. I am filled with regret. If only we could have made things better. If only we could have worked it out......

and it never could have been fixed.

You see, on the other hand was his illness. He spent 11 years feeding the monster in his head. He spent 11 years perfecting his evil. Right. Under. My. Nose.

By the time we ran,  I knew that we were so far removed from 'normal' that we had no idea how badly we stank.

August will be a year without him. This wasn't supposed to be my life. I was supposed to be married to one man for life. We were supposed to share our old age together. My kids were supposed to have a father who loved them. Ahhh, regret.

So, while I'm on this rant..... his family. When they were confronted with the label "pedaphile" they said they didn't believe. It wasn't convenient for them. They would never know the truth.

Funny. Neither will I.

So, Andrew was nothing I wanted him to be and my hope for him was everything. I will never know the truth or the depth of the lies.  I miss what could have been, and fear him returning. I have this remnant  of PTSD- I'm afraid of certain corners in my home. I'm afraid he'll walk around them.  Our lives are better for him being gone and that's horribly sad.

I've said goodbye to him in so many different ways and many different degrees.

He will never be gone from our lives.