The Keeper

Posted on | March 29, 2013 | 14 Comments

When I first found out I was getting divorced, I spent many hours listening to Coldplay’s “Fix You” and “Chasing Cars” by Snow Patrol.  I would just sit and stare at the wall, letting my parents care for J and just listen, choking on my tears.  I must have played both of those songs at least fifty times a day, wondering when and where and how and why.  I vividly remember one moment, me at my computer staring into the screen with my father sitting on a chair behind me.  I could feel his eyes trying not to watch my shoulders shaking as I swallowed tear after tear, willing them not to come out.  I remember him clearing his throat as though he were going to say something and then thinking better of it and turning away.  There was nothing anyone could say to me that would keep those tears from falling.  To this day, I can’t hear either of those songs without wanting to curl up in a small ball and rock ferociously until the pain goes away.

It’s hard to remember those hours and days and weeks that followed the decision to end a marriage, to end MY marriage.  It’s hard to remember the hurt and horror that followed the slow and agonizing physical disappearance of the man I thought would be there forever.  So much of my life now is still wrapped and intertwined with his, even without him here.  There are still phone calls and texts and emails.  There are Valentines to make and Father’s Days to celebrate.  There is a little boy who has his father’s chin and nose who wants desperately for me to talk about and to his Daddy on his behalf.  And so I do.

Every day holds a reminder of what is no longer there… of who is no longer there.

Even though he left, or maybe because he left, I am the keeper of his memory.  I am the keeper of the memories that brought and held us together.  I am the keeper of the stories, the keeper of the moments, the keeper of the times we had by virtue of my role as keeper of our child.  Every single one of my days is spent remembering him in some small way… sharing a video of our son via text, instigating a Skype call for J to tell him about his day, telling and retelling a story about him to the adoring ears of his son.

When I first found myself alone, staring at the empty bedroom we used to share, I thought that time would erase him from my life just as seamlessly as he’d removed the bedroom furniture, just as carelessly as he’d strewn my clothes in the closet floor, just as completely as he’d disappeared into his own apartment.  I thought that if I just waited long enough, he would disappear from my mind and heart and leave me free, finally.  But when children are involved, there is no freedom from the one who hurt you.  He is allowed to hurt you again and again, through his absence at Father-Son breakfasts, through his unanswered phone calls from his children, through his very existence somewhere, some place else.  Though your heart no longer cares for him, it cares so deeply for the person, the people he helped to create that his every move is a punch in the gut of who you are now.  Any weekend trips he takes, any kid-free vacations he has, and even his very lifestyle that seems to scream out “NOT A SINGLE PARENT” or maybe, sometimes, “NOT A PARENT AT ALL.”  His very happiness with his life is a constant reminder that he broke you, broke your dreams, all so that he could be this particular shade of happy.

I’m not going to lie and tell you that it’s easy.

I’m not going to lie and tell you that being a single parent will bring you constant and irrepressible joy.

Because it isn’t.  Because it doesn’t. Because it is a struggle every day to balance what you need and what your child needs.  Because it is a torrential downpour, every day, of the agonizing choices between being a woman and being a mother.  And for every time you succeed, there are a dozen failures.  For every time that you get it all right, there are sixteen dozen “Got it all wrongs.”  For every moment when I feel content and happy with my life, there is another one lurking just under the surface screaming “NO!” and “THIS ISN’T FAIR!”

There are so many times when I want to give up, when I want to throw up my hands and announce that maybe I’m not cut out for this either.  Maybe my Ex should take on full responsibility of dressing, feeding, washing, teaching, loving, loving, loving on this difficult but adorable child of ours.  Maybe then he’d see and understand and appreciate what I do on a daily basis because he is not here. There are so many times when I think I can’t smile through one. more. story. about how amazing a singer his Daddy is or how much his Daddy loves him when all I really want to say is “IF HE LOVES YOU SO MUCH WHY IS HE NOT HERE TO HELP ME WITH ALL OF THIS?!”

But who would that help and who would that hurt. In the long run, this is for the best, for all of us… even in those moments when it still doesn’t quite feel like it.  Even when Coldplay comes on the radio and I’m transported back to that half-empty apartment with my half-empty heart.  Even then, even now… some two years later when most of him has disappeared.

But in those moments, I do what we single parents have to do, what we must do for the love of our children and for the long ago love of those who helped make them a reality.  I choke down the words and dust off the memories, keeping on keeping up with keeping my Ex a part of our lives.

 

 

 

 

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  • http://www.facebook.com/people/Tracey-Medrano-Becker/1544447290 Tracey Medrano Becker

    Sending you some strength, if that can be sent via internet. Though it sounds as though you have a pretty strong heart already. Having our hearts hurt doesn’t mean we aren’t strong. Pushing through the hurt to get keep moving forward is what means you’re strong. And you are. Rock on, momma.

    • http://twitter.com/lawmomma77 Law Momma

      Oh it can be. I’ve been collecting strength from the Internet since this time two years ago! ;) Thanks, so much.

  • http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=690394031 Kathleen Brown-Martin

    and you did it again… brought me to tears… my girls are 22 and 19… it’s still hard. Hard as they have such anger and they feel all those things you mention. They don’t even remember the good times that we had when their dad was in their lives. I try to keep memories alive, but it hurts for them too. There’s always hurt… we do move on and forward… for me, personally, I’m in a better place, with a much better person. But, it wasn’t without pain and it’s always going to be with pain. As I look at those amazing girls of mine, I feel pain and joy. I did an amazing job as a single mom. They know it, but you can never erase the past. It’s part of us. No regrets… just make new memories!!! {hugs}

    • http://twitter.com/lawmomma77 Law Momma

      Sorry for the tears!!! It can be overwhelming at times and it’s ALWAYS overwhelming if I stop and let myself drink in all the thoughts and feelings at the same time. But when I remember to take it day by day, it doesn’t seem quite as bad. Plus, you’re right… in a better place. :)

  • Q’s Mom

    I hear ya on this, on every level. Hard not to be bitter, & just focus on the fact that at least my ex still wants to very much be a part of Q’s life, even though he lives 2.5 hours away…but, I have to think it’s worth it in the end, for Q’s sake. But…argh!

    • http://twitter.com/lawmomma77 Law Momma

      It’s so hard not to be bitter, you’re right. But it’s better for everyone in the long run. :)

  • Meredith

    You’re amazing and always and inspiration to me as I am just beginning my single parenting experience. Also, “Fix You?” Beautiful but deadly. And I’m pretty sure it’s the most played song on my iPod right now.

    • http://twitter.com/lawmomma77 Law Momma

      so deadly. It’s like a one-two punch of OMGWHY

  • Stacey Levin-Esar

    I can relate only partially, but I am rocked by your ability to write in a poignantly raw manner. I look forward to being your voyeur every morning. Your words stay with me through the day and give me plenty to think about.
    I’m sending my appreciation and my love for what you give to me, as well as for what you need.
    Thank you.

    • http://twitter.com/lawmomma77 Law Momma

      Thanks, you. Means a lot that you take the time to read. :)

  • kryptogirl

    Jesus. That was an Amazing piece. You are Amazing for having the courage to put yourself out there like that. I’m a little overwhelmed and wish I could just take away all that pain from you. Wow. X

    • http://twitter.com/lawmomma77 Law Momma

      Any and everything can be totally overwhelming if you let it be. I wrote in a moment of overwhelmed. But thanks… honestly.

  • smithe24

    You’re doing a great job. There is going to come a day when J is grown or perhaps has children of his own when all of this is going to become crystal clear for him…the way you facilitated him holding on to a positive image of his father (even if it wasn’t necessarily reality). They way you are allowing him to form his own view on the whole situation rather than coloring it with what happened in the marriage. And he’ll be a better man and a better father because he was able to reach the conclusion himself. You’re building a better man;) Although I’m sure very painful now – I know it will pay off down the line. J is a lucky lucky boy.

    • http://twitter.com/lawmomma77 Law Momma

      Oh I hope so! I hope I can raise him to be a really good man. It’s what’s most important.

  • Creative Commons License
    Spilled Milk (and Other Atrocities) by Law Momma is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
    Based on a work at http://www.law-momma.com.



  • I'm a divorced, single mom to a pre-schooler, a full-time attorney, and a semi-reluctant vegetarian. I work hard and when given the chance, I play hard... but I'm almost never given the chance.

    It's possible that I never outgrew 7th grade mentality, as I still laugh when anyone says anything that can be remotely construed as sexual. Let's face it, if you're not down with "That's what s/he said" at the end of almost any sentence, we're probably not going to get along all that well.

    I drink more than I should, I run more than I should, and I laugh as much as I can. So I'm pretty much winning at life.

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