Day 21

Day 21 and I am ANGRY. Archie has finally broken down and seems to be falling into a depression. He cried himself to sleep tonight after a long conversation in which we relived memories of the past. Archie wants to know why his dad doesn’t love him anymore. Archie wants to know why he didn’t get to say goodbye to his dad. Archie wants to know why, if his dad comes back, we couldn’t all live together again. I think these emotions may have been spurred on by the fact that we are moving out of our family home and in with my parents. Archie forms deep attachments to people and places (much like me). While his siblings seem to have been spared the full comprehension of abandonment because of their emotional immaturity, Archie suffers immensely because of his understanding and ability to deeply feel. No child should ever have to suffer this way. It is worse than a death because Archie understands that his dad chose to leave him. Although the kids and I did not choose this path, we are the ones left picking up the pieces. I usually try to refrain from self-pity; however, in this case I firmly believe that this is simply just not fair.

Day 20

It’s hard to believe that it’s been 20 days since I last saw my husband, and since our children hugged him goodbye as he left for work on Mother’s day. My life has become so complicated, and things seem to be forever chaotic. I just cannot accomplish everything that I need to, or am required to for that matter. I feel the weight of the world on my shoulders as I try to salvage a business, complete my education, move out of our home, and raise three children as a single mom. I secretly laugh at the Emily who, 21 days ago, thought her life was completely maxed out. I haven’t watched television, read a single book to my children, exercised, or even attended church in the last 20 days. There is simply not enough time for me to do anything “extra.” Writing about my feelings and experiences in the middle of the night is about the most relief I get from my living hell.

Amiss the packing, phone calls, appointments with lawyers, bill paying, and meeting with accountants, the children have been remarkably resilient. I am so very proud to call them my own.

Archie finished third grade this week, and his report card showed just how much he has grown this year! He has taken on even more of a parenting role with his siblings, which concerns me. However, he seems to take pride in caring for his brother and sister, and I suppose it’s a sort of distraction for him. Archie has had spells of anger, but seems to be doing pretty well under the circumstances. He got situated in his new room today and still sleeps next to a picture of his dad. I am so very sad that Archie has had to temporarily give up cub scouts, as that was his weekly activity with his dad.

Ramona continues to handle the abandonment the best of us all. She has begun calling her father by his first name, as opposed to “Dad.” She has informed me that Dad is a “bad guy” who makes “bad choices,” and I can’t really argue much. She consistently seeks reassurance that Poppy and Grammy’s house is our home, as well as that there are six of us living here.

Oliver has been busy and active as usual. Tonight, he heard the doorbell ring on television and thought it was the real doorbell. He immediately shouted “Daddy!” with delight and ran to the door. When I showed him that nobody was on the other side, he stood by the door and looked out the window for quite some time. I am certain that he’ll eventually forget about his dad’ however, his innocent love for Daddy is both heartbreaking and heartwarming.

As I was packing up the house today, I came across the boxes of family pictures that have been collected over the past 10 years. I couldn’t help leafing through the photos of a person I loved (and still love) so much. Pictures of birthdays, holidays, vacations, births, weddings, and family milestones. I started weeping, wondering how the person in the pictures could possibly walk away from his family without looking back. I fear that I will never know the reasons behind his behavior, but I desperately seek some sort of closure to this tragedy.

Communication with my husband came to a complete stop last Saturday night. Until that day, I had had occasional and brief conversations with him via text messaging. Whether he’s attempting to hide or experiencing some sort of difficulty, it seems clear that the road ahead will be long, frustrating, and difficult. Because he will not communicate with me or reveal his physical address, I cannot receive the benefits my children need and deserve. I have spent almost all of my savings on attorney fees, bills that would normally be covered by his income, and feeding my children. And yet he will not send one penny to help with his children. He has not spoken to the children in the last 20 days, and he has not even inquired about their well being. The children continue to exist and require food, clothing, and shelter; however, I appear to have inherited 100% of the responsibility to meet these needs.

We miss him…we think of him often….we cry…..we’re angry. Archie has his nose, Ramona has his eyes, and Oliver has his expressions. Ramona’s toes curl inward like his. Archie looks and sounds like him when he sleeps. Oliver has his finger and hands. I can’t remember what he sounds like. I called his phone yesterday (for the first time since he’s left) just to hear his voicemail greeting. The voice haunted me and sounded like a distant memory or dream. But I know he wasn’t a dream. I have his children and 11 years of memories that will always remind me of him.

Day 10

It’s been 10 days since we last saw his face or heard his voice. Archie turned 9 year old 3 days ago, and he did not call or text to wish Archie a happy day. He sent me a text message telling me he had sent a birthday card two days prior to the birthday, but 5 days have passed…and no card has arrived. I know that a card will never arrive, but I keep looking for one nonetheless. I can’t help but wonder why a person would lie about sending their child a birthday card, but I acknowledge that I cannot even begin to rationalize his thoughts and actions.

The birthday – a very sad day. It was the first holiday without him. My dad, my sister, and I took Archie bowling and out to eat. For the first time, Archie ordered an adult meal (and ate it all) instead of a children’s meal. I couldn’t hold back the tears as I looked around the restaurant and noticed all the families sharing a meal together. I feel fortunate to have my children, but I cannot stop missing the family unit I had become accustomed to. Fortunately, my parents were more than generous with helping with Archie’s gifts (since my money was still frozen in an alternate account), and Archie seemed happy with his day. He received a Nerf gun, 2 Lego sets, a skateboard, and (drum roll) a full-sized basketball hoop. Archie concentrated extra hard when making his birthday wish. He tightly closed his eyes and took several deep breaths before blowing out the 9 candles. I can’t help but wonder if he wished to see his dad again. The birthday brought back so many memories of 9 years ago. He and I were young and Archie had not been a planned baby, but we were both so thrilled to welcome Archie into the world. I remember him taking Archie on long walks, rocking Archie to sleep, and proudly showing Archie off to friends and family members. What has happened to cause such a loving father to completely walk away from his children and never look back?

The days have been easier, but I would be lying if I said I haven’t still been living in a hellish state. I go back and forth between sadness and anger. I miss seeing his face, holding his hand, and curling up in bed next to him at night. I miss his help with the kids…from the bedtime routine to the weekend activities. I miss hearing the kids yell “Daddy!” with delight when he would come home from work.

Archie is starting to display quite a bit of emotional turmoil. He has cried a few times, but seems to be angry and often confused. He became angry with me when he learned that I was visiting my attorney and has also talked about running away to Denver. He still sleeps next to a window, but has recently started keeping a glowing light saber in the window to light the way home for his dad. Archie is my biggest concern right now, and I pray that he will have the strength required to overcome this tragedy.

Ramona continues to be rather complacent about the whole ordeal. On Saturday (day 6), I took her to the kiosk to drop off supplies and she started looking for her dad. She sat at the bar drinking her strawberry Italian soda (her regular…often made by her dad), and I couldn’t help crying at this precious sight.

Oliver continues to talk about Daddy. He screams “Daddy!” every time the phone rings…every time the garage opens…every time the doorbell rings. It is so very painful for me, and I often wonder how long he can go without seeing his dad before he completely forgets who Dad really is.

I have been spending quite a bit of time trying to resurrect the business. Learning how to make coffee has been a challenge for a non-coffee drinker like me…but I have no choice but to do it. I am 100% responsible for these children now, and I vow to not let them down. I will make coffee all day long if it means feeding and clothing them. I do not have very many choices right now, but I know that as long as I have my children, I will be content. Along with spending more time at the business, I have also uncovered more and more evidence of his double life. Credit card bills, unpaid business bills, and overdue accounts have become my normal, daily discovery. As I clean up this new life I seem to be acquiring, I can’t seem to shake the old one that I had so hoped to live. Although he has wounded me beyond repair, I cannot stop missing him and loving the person I thought he was. The legal battle lies ahead…the bills are stacking up….the expenses have been left for me to sort out….the broken hearts have been assigned to me. And yet, I beg for a do-over. I want to wake up from this nightmare and have him beside me once again. I am grieving the death of a person who is not really dead, and this is awfully confusing and emotionally challenging. Looking back over the last couple of days we had together, I would give anything to know when he made the decision to leave. How long did he know he was leaving but pretended to love us? And finally, I rack my brain every day to conjure the memory of his last words to me. It was either “I’m leaving,” or “Leaving,” or “Leaving now.” One thing is for sure – he included the word ‘leaving,’ he left, and it appears to have been calculated and intentional.

Day 5

It has been 5 days. I have experienced more emotions than I knew existed. There are so many questions about why he left. I am not as focused on what he is doing now, but my mind cannot escape the last 3 days we had as a family of five. Was his departure planned? Did he know they were the last kisses and hugs? Did he know it was the last time he would see our faces and hear our voices? What was he thinking when he drove away and saw our house for the last time?

Despite the disturbing details I have uncovered about his possible double life, I cannot stop missing him…cannot stop loving. The coffee kiosk he had been running has abruptly been left in my hands. With substantial help from my father and some amazing employees, I have begun to grasp the most basic concepts of coffee-making, espresso machine lingo, and wholesale buying. The first few times I was at the kiosk, it felt surreal that I would never see him standing there again…making the coffee that he so enjoyed serving others. Today is day five, and I have started developing a love for the kiosk and the business that he loved for the past year. I yearn to be there because I feel closer to him…like he is somehow guiding me as I learn. Yesterday’s discoveries at the kiosk storage room included a paper trail of evidence suggesting a double life. For that I felt anger and was filled with rage. Today’s discovery – a shirt in a jar. I found one of his dress shirts inside of a jar in the storage room. I took the shirt out and inhaled his smell, which had been perfectly preserved. It was such a comfort, and yet I was so deeply anguished. I found myself breathing into the shirt and begging him to give me the answers to this puzzle. What am I supposed to do, I asked the shirt, and how can I muster the strength to be a single parent, business owner, and college student?

Archie is eight, but will turn nine in two days. He is the one of the most sensitive, caring, and intuitive children I have ever met. He has cried a handful of times and pleaded for “just one last day with my dad.” I have found him staring out the window waiting for his dad to return. He has put aside his dad’s favorite foods to save for him when he comes back. I think he is starting to realize that he is not coming back, but I also don’t think that his delicate emotional state is allowing him to fully grasp reality. He has split emotions regarding our move in with my parents. He enjoys his time here, but he has also expressed to me that it “just doesn’t feel like home.” He has missed quite a bit of school, but is also very attentive to me and his siblings. I know that his birthday in two days will present some difficult emotions. I am going to make every effort to ensure that he fully realizes how remarkable he is on his special day.

Ramona is four and the complacent middle child. She has not mentioned her dad often, nor has she asked about him. She has talked about a recent fieldtrip to the zoo, during which her dad accompanied her quite a bit though. I am so thankful that she has these last positive memories of him. Indeed, her dad was so involved with her school activities this year. She has his eyes, smile, and feet, and I see him every time I look at her. I remember all the trinkets he would bring Ramona from the mall: barrettes, bows, and jewelry from neighboring kiosks. He had talked about her teenage years and how much he would protect her. We had joked about how she was going to be an “expensive wedding.”

Oliver is two and was the apple of his dad’s eye. Of all our children, he had bonded with Oliver the strongest during infancy. Throughout Oliver’s two years, he has always been the one to comfort Oliver at night and rock him back to sleep. Oliver has still woken up at night and cried for daddy. Oliver also cries “Daddy!” with delight every time we drive past the mall. I fear the day when I take the kids to the mall and daddy is not there in the kiosk. I also fear that Oliver’s memories of his dad will quickly fade. Will he have any lasting memories of his dad, or will they fade during the next couple of months?

Five days ago at this time, I was happily working on a homework assignment and waiting for my husband to return from work. Little did I know that he had never been to work and was already in a different state starting a new life…without us.