Hey everyone, this was a spur of the moment so it's not very thought through. Hope you like it, it's different to anything I've done before.
Cry
That first night when I arrived at Suriak, all I did was cry. I returned from the newcomers' meeting and dinner only to collapse on my bed. From then on throughout the night the tears streamed down my face; the loss finally hit me. I had lost my father, sons and husband.
My father, I cried because I had lost him. All throughout my childhood, he had gradually been slipping away from me, until I had returned to Newport to see my mother during her last months. Ever since the birth of Hailey, he had been inclining towards her, favouring her, while I went out of my way to please and impress him. I remembered making him a Father's Day card, with glitter and coloured card knowing that it was the most effort I had ever put into a present only to see him already marvelling at Hailey's messy scrawl of a note.
I cried because I had rebelled against him. The guilt of my teenage and college years suddenly swept upon me as I recalled the hurt that flashed across before the anger set in when he found that I wasn't heading for an Ivy League. The flicker of disappointment when he learned that I was studying Art History instead of the commerce career he had planned out for me when I was seven. The sense of loss when it finally dawned on him that I was marrying a Jewish boy from the Bronx and not Jimmy Cooper the typical Newport boy next door.
I cried because I had blamed him for so many things that were beyond his control. More guilt rushed through me as I spent my wedding day so angry at my absent father only to receive the sweetest letter moments before leaving on our honeymoon explaining why he wasn't able to attend.
I cried because I had told him he was the cause of my problems. I knew that this was beyond him, this was between Sandy and me and that's it. Why I dragged him into it, I have no idea, but an inkling of me believes it was as a scapegoat. So that I could feel better about myself and that it wasn't my fault that I spent my days drunk. That I could pinpoint the origin and feel better that it was out of my control, I can't be held responsible for my father.
I cried because I knew that it didn't stop him loving me.
My sons; I cried because I had lost them. All this year I had been so focused on my problems I was never there to help with theirs. Right from the start I had been trying so hard to make myself happy, that I nearly dragged Seth back and would have dragged Ryan had I been able to.
I cried because I had become the mother Ryan had left behind. When we adopted him nearly 2 years ago, we had promised him that he was leaving his old life behind, but I guess that no matter what you wrap it up in, the inside is always the same. Everyone has their problems, this must be ours. Even so, I promised him that he wouldn't have to face this again, that he no longer would have to deal and live in such a way that was so much older than he is.
I cried because I was no longer that mother that Seth had. I had always tried hard, to make sure that I was always there for Seth and to give him all the best opportunities in life, but I had failed. This past year, I could not qualify as a mother. A mother is involved, not only in acting as a mother, but involved in her sons' life and an essential part of it. The role I played, that was not essential; that was a mere supporting role there to keep the family dynamic rolling.
I cried because I had affected them with my problem. Not many people realise this, I didn't even realise this until the intervention, but drinking is a family problem. While it must have influenced me in one way or another when my mother was an alcoholic, I had never consciously realised. Because I had chosen to drown my sorrows in vodka, I had created a new tear in my family. Another shining accomplishment that I can add to my name, I was able to hurt my sons in the process.
I cried because I knew that they needed me to love them.
My husband; I cried because I had lost him. Over the summer I had pushed him away, beginning this rift in our marriage. That on its own would have been okay, we could have gotten over that easily but the culmination of that with my father, Rebecca Bloom and Carter just multiplied our problems to such an extent that we were no longer able to tackle them.
I cried as I thought of the hurtful things I had said to him over the year; the things that I had insinuated. Throughout the Rebecca debacle I continuously implied that he didn't care about me, that he no longer loved me. It made me question whether he loved me in the first place, or whether I was just second prize to the girl he was supposed to marry.
I cried for the tears I should have shed then but was too vain to. Would it have helped if I did? Would it have helped if I had unloaded my burden on to someone with emotion flowing from my eyes? Probably not though, we were in too deep already.
I cried for the mistakes I made; Carter namely. What I did was stupid, I realise that now. It's disappointing though how long it's taken me to realise that. To realise that flirting with another man just because your husband neglected you for a month is wrong and doesn't qualify for a good enough reason.
I cried because I broke his trust in me. I led him to believe that had I an affair with Carter, that's how obvious and ridiculous my actions were. They made my husband, the man I have been lawfully bound to for 20 years, think that I had slept with another man. As the salty liquid streamed down my face I realised how hard that must have been for him. While I always had a small part of me that believed that he cheated on me, it was never large enough to lead me to confront him about it. He must have been sure enough of himself that I had done the unthinkable and that he needed to question me about it.
I cried because I realised that I had forgiven him. Somewhere down the track I had gotten over all the events surrounding Rebecca and I had moved on from some degree to another. Never once did I let him know how much had it bothered me. I'm sure that he knew but I never said to him how upset I was that he was putting me second, how upset I was that he sacrificed his time with me to be with her.
I cried because I knew that through all of this that he would still love me.
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