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You have your way. I have my way. As for the right way, the correct way, and the only way, it does not exist”

For out of all of the ashes, we live. We are someone besides our own self, but we live none the less. We come out tarnished, bruised, scarred; but alive. I am starting to get accustomed to living in black and white again. In fact, most of my life was lived in such a manner, and it was fine. It was fine because I knew no different. Everything was a fair medium of bland and ok. No real highs, but no real lows. So I suppose that it would be rational to appreciate that living in black and white might better than living in a world with no variations in hues. I have never been called rational though. Maybe that’s the appeal to me though. Maybe the one thing that people grow to love in turns out to be the very thing that haves them disregard all of my being. I have reflected on a lot. I have looked back on all of the things that my time in living color provided me with. All that I must be thankful for. They say goodbyes are bitter sweet; I’m going to hold on to the part that keeps me moving along; so here goes the sweet.

I was never able to travel much. Well, maybe able is not correct; I was able, I just never did. I never did, because I never had. He brought so much of that to me, and to Addison. I have been more places this year than I have been in my life, and I could not be more thankful for him showing me what a great thing it is that we all need in our lives. This is something that I have done without him, and will continue to do so. Sad part being wherever I went, my first instinct was to send him a picture; or to tell him about it. It robbed a little bit of the joy from the trips to not have him to share it with. I am going to hope that feeling passes in future travels.

I used to be very active and in shape. I worked out five hours a day; and then I had Addison. For many reasons, I stopped. I picked up drinking to feel sorry for me, and gave up on taking care of me. He reminded me how beauty still lived in me, and he helped me find it. I, through much anxiety, got back in the gym on a regular basis, and will continue with the habits that he instilled in me; and gave me the courage to do so. He was always so very supportive. Telling me how good I was doing. Keeping up with my progress, but most importantly; calming me in my frustration. I remember having a panic attack at the gym one day. He didn’t get mad. He calmly got me to the truck and just sat and talked to me while I apologized through tears. I hated him seeing the weak side of me. Hated it.

He taught me how to be a mom, and showed me what a good dad is; and assured me that someone will accept Addison how she is and love her to no end. He brought her through more progress in 6 months, than I had been able to do in 5 years. I think she wanted so hard to impress him (I know the feeling) she tried her hardest every single day to not let him down. She would just talk and talk. She doesn’t do that anymore. I think the best feeling I have ever felt in my life was the sound she would make the second she heard his keys in the door. There’s beauty in a child. Pure enthusiasm to see him, like her entire day revolved around that very moment. Truth is, I felt the same when he came home. A lot of times (more so than not) I would run down to greet him. Some days I didn’t, like I didn’t want him to know that my day revolved around that very second. Stupid. Fucking. Pride.

He restored order in our home. I had just not given a fuck for so long. Everything was a mess, and I know it took a toll on him. I did what I could, but everything was so far gone for me to have it all pristine for him in just a few months. He brought joy and laughter into a home that had been a house since the day I bought it. He brought in good meals. He brought in color. He brought in good family memories. Most of all he brought in the piece that missing to make it a home, a place, a temple, a place to worship all that we had in those walls. Maybe we should have done a lot more of that. Well not maybe; we should have. Less phones. Less TVs. I can’t say that there was a lack of love. There was too much of things that should have been absent, but I can’t say that there should have been more love. That part we had down.

He told me love is not enough.

I can’t say that I will ever agree with that.

Love is enough, when fear is lessened.

For all of these things, and so many that I cannot list, I am grateful to him. I have so many vacation photos to look at to remind me that I am capable of loving and laughing; but more importantly that Addison has a side that I have never seen, and I hope that she is fortunate enough to have that again. I know not what to do to fuck it up this time.

I appreciate everyone’s words. I really do. You all have seen me fight. Playing a game of steering me to him, when he knew he would turn me down might have been the ultimate betrayal. Of all that he ever did to me (and me him) that might have been the cruelest on his end. Waving all I wanted in front of my face and telling me to go fight for it and to make him see. All the while laughing because he knew I would come, and he knew he would have the power to laugh in my face and tell me no.

“There is not enough love and goodness in the world to permit giving any of it away to imaginary beings.”

Friedrich Nietzsche





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