Yes, my heart is hurting for you, Thom, as it hurts when I read your stories of your beloved Grace. I want to say don’t give up. We will never stop loving our daughters, and they us. Sometimes it just hurts too much because the feelings are so raw. The scabs never fully cover the wounds which makes it possible to go back in and try again.
I get so angry and frustrated sometimes when I am being accused of something of which I have no knowledge that I can’t stop myself from lashing out at Amy and forcing her to leave my house. Her words are like daggers to me, and it’s as if my heart will stop beating if I let her stay. It happened on Thanksgiving right after dinner. I told her to leave as I was slamming my door and crying. We knew we wouldn’t have Christmas together or my birthday in April or even Mother’s Day last month. We barely talked this year except for a few texts. I can’t stand the pain. I push her away and try to forget about her. It works as a temporary fix. And then something will happen in our lives, and she’ll reach out to me or I’ll reach out to her, and it seems like everything is all right… until the next time.
But as you know — especially you, Thom — life is short and fleeting, and time is our enemy. Wasn’t your daughter’s wedding just a short while ago? And weren’t you holding Grace in your arms the other day? We could make a promise to each other that we won’t give up on our daughters just yet. Maybe you could begin with a few poems. Your writing is so beautiful, and I can imagine you connecting to her again through the reading of your own words.
What I don’t know is what happened and why she keeps this distance, but knowing that you haven’t met her two children, your grandchildren, brings tears to my eyes. What I do know is that you’re a fine man with good intentions, and I want you to have the love of your daughter again and her children in the future. I’ll tell you what. “I’ll turn the microwave on high for you.”