She Got to Tuesday and Gained a Life
She arrived at Tuesday and gained a life. Surviving his hoovering and fake remorse wasn’t easy, but this is what she learned.
***
Dear Chump Lady,
Last year I sent UBT an email from my ex that was featured here: Cheater Hoovers to Say He’s Lost His Way.
Now that my divorce has been finalised, I wanted to share some reflections with the CN community.
To recap, my 20-year relationship with my ex followed the standard script.
One-sided, no reciprocity, me doing all the heavy lifting and adulting while he coasted along until he found his “soulmate” — out of God knows how many affair partners. Then came the fake remorse, the gaslighting, the wreckonciliation, the pick-me dance, D-day after D-day, and finally the brutal discard right before Christmas 2024.
Three weeks later came the hoovering: “the sadz,” the “sudden revelation,” the “I made a mistake, please give me another chance” trap.
Luckily, by then I had discovered the concept of covert narcissism and Chump Lady, which helped guide me out of the fog I had lived in for most of my life. I went through a true dark-night-of-the-soul process — recognising narcissism in my family, confronting my own codependent traits, and facing the most excruciating truth of all:
The marriage was a mirage.
I was never loved. Instead, I was useful and convenient — until I wasn’t.
I don’t want to glorify suffering, but I have experienced tremendous growth on my way out of that hell. I went no contact; I broke the trauma bond; I had therapies; I learned how to mow the lawn, how to travel solo, how to enjoy being single, how to assess character, how to set boundaries, and how to soothe and validate myself.
I’m currently training to become a yoga teacher, I write a blog, and I facilitate a peer support group for people recovering from infidelity. I filed for divorce as soon as I became eligible.
I gained a life.
P.S.
The divorce was finalised last month. While I was doing my final round of grieving, I received the signed acknowledgement from him — and the person who signed as witness on our divorce paperwork was his affair partner.
The man who was “so sorry” and “would do anything to save our marriage” in the entire 12-month separation period, decided to deliver one last blow after I rejected him.
But here’s the twist: his AP is a junior police officer, not a lawyer or a Justice of the Peace authorised to witness a divorce application here in Australia, as clearly stated in the instructions. So the court ruled it invalid.
Not only do they lack integrity—they don’t have much of a brain, either.
To all the chumps reading this:
There is nothing to look back at.
Your cheater (and their AP) absolutely suck beyond your imagination. Once you truly see that, forgiveness becomes easier — not because they deserve it, but because they simply don’t have the depth of character required to love anyone. It’s like forgiving a blind person for not appreciating Monet.
Warm regards,
Thriver
***
Dear Thriver,
Thanks for the Tuesday testimonial. We always love a success story here and an update on an answered letter.
Hilarious that his F you of having his affair partner sign his divorce petition was rejected by the court. Not a good career look as an officer of the law… breaking the law.
Thanks for providing inspiration for the newbies. How’s your Tuesday going CN?
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Congratulations OP!
Small things leading me towards myTuesday –
Cooking food I liked for the first time in decades because FW did not like x, y, z
Resetting the home electronic tech systems on my own and sometimes with the help friends, no longer at FW mercy.
Career improvement now that I don’t have a petulant man – baby putting me down while subtly sabotaging my work when we were married. I’m free to attend work and professional events yay!
Managing finances by myself now budgeting is possible without the chaotic thief stealing funds or money managers kissing up to FW.
Health improving significantly now that I am not living in a toxic relationship and free to go exercise instead of playing marriage police.
New memories and trips with my kids to replace our nightmare of wreckonciliation year!
I thank the universe daily that I found LACGAL and this site. 🙏
I was amazed by how much money I had once FW and I separated our bank accounts. Even with my income cut in half and my bills increasing, I somehow had more left after paying bills than we’d ever had as a couple. I tried very hard to make budgets for us, but he complained about how I allocated the money (while refusing to participate in the process so we could all be happy with the budget). FW was a spender. He felt he “deserved” nice things. And he was an alcoholic so he spent a LOT of money on booze. He also, I came to realize, did not understand how money worked. Basics like fluctuating bills (electric, etc.), tax withholdings, or the fact that just because there’s money in the bank doesn’t mean it’s available to spend (because it’s already allocated for bills). Explaining it to him was like trying to instruct a child. And he still didn’t get it.
He blamed me for all our financial struggles. But after we split, I paid off all my debts, saved up money, improved my credit score dramatically, and bought a house by myself. He spiraled deeper and deeper into debt (in spite of AP giving him tens of thousands of dollers) and was almost completely broke when he died. I don’t think I was the problem.
I had the strangest Tuesday moment last night…I was going through my saved images from my FB acct and there are hundreds of me in my new life (which is really good) and I ran into one of me and Cheater (when he was alive – which he hasn’t been for over a decade) during our 5 year Wreckonsillyation before he died.
If you had asked me the evening the photo was taken, I would have told you we were doing great (and had healed our marriage) and it would have been a lie. He never fessed up or told the whole truth, he minimized and gaslit me to his last breath. After he died, I found proof that it was all worse and even a document where he wrote “I never loved my wife”. I was a convenient wife appliance.
But back to the photo. I looked straight at it for quite a while and I felt nothing. No pain, not deep regret, no grief, no longing, no nothing. So very Tuesday of me.
Also, long ago, I recognized that any changed to my earlier life would change my kids into not existing or being born totally different and I cant do that. I dont say this because they are Harvard educated neurosurgeons …they are flawed quirky people who often drive me nuts, but they are MY flawed quirky people and I will be their momma bear to my last breath. This helps me not regret huge chunks of my life which I think would be awful.
My Chump journey took a LONG time because I was really stubborn (and smoked hopium) and no one could have talked me out of it but I learned things along the way. VERY sadly, my daughter’s partner has fallen into serious mental illness that he refuses to seek treatment for. She has removed herself from the relationship but they are still working out the final awkward logistical details.
Ive reflected on CLs story of her first spouse/divorce being a person with untreated metal illness and both gained resolve and been thankful that the wedding we had started to plan didnt happen. Daughter and I probably did wait and hope a little too long but my experience here has taught me that it’s really time to help her be out and stay out of that relationship. Im not sure I would be as capable of helping her without this community and our shared stories (especially CLs).
Healing comes. Doing better & knowing better can be really helped by reading about our experiences.
This is exactly what I needed to hear today. OP, thank you for coming back to us and updating on your beautiful and well-earned new life.
I am going through the recognition of narcissism and my own spackling in many other relationships outside my marriage, and it seems to be almost equal to the pain of marriage to a narcissist. There was narcissism in my FOO and I learned to contort myslef to live around it, which is the most dangerous of accomodations, as you will attract and not recognize other narcissists, who see you like you have the K mart blue light flashing on your head. It is exactly a dark night of the soul to leave a monster and emerge, not into the light, but another murky and painful place that requires a lot of soul searching and work to navigate.
Right now Tuesday seems as far away as Pluto or the peak of Everest.
PrincipledLife, hugs.
How do you get to the top of Everest?
One step at a time.
One step at a time, dear one.
Good news, that blue KMart light of yours won’t last. I believe it’s already on the blink.
♥️
Same. I knew my parents and my first husband were all extremely difficult people and I couldn’t figure out what I did to get myself into such a clusterf**k.
One of my challenges was that mom was SOOOOOO difficult (BPD and alcoholism) that she made my narc husband and dad seem like nearly normal people. It wasnt until I read a book about Borderline Personality mothers (esp alcoholics) which told me that they often marry narcs (they both have delusions of grandeur) that I came to see them clearly.
Husband was a covert narc so I didnt figure him out until after he died.
As long as he was living, he could throw scraps my way and leave me hoping that he would do better. It’s so ironignto me that I held on for decades but had saved money and was ready to leave when he died so suddenly. I had told God that I woul no longer try to keep Cheater at home, I released him to go wherever it was he might be happy…I thought he would go to California, not The Great Beyond.
My parents died about 12 years after my Cheater which led to a more peaceful life but complicated grief.
I think my FOO story was similar to yours, except my mom’s addictions were food and work. Could you share the name of the book you read on borderline mothers? I’ve been wondering if she was BPD, and think it’s important to figure it out. I believe my dad was a covert narc and my STBX is definitely a covert narc. Like your experience, my mom’s behavior was so extreme at times that it made my dad’s, and later, husband’s, behavior look normal by comparison.
It is called Understanding the Borderline Mother by Christine Ann Lawson published in 2000.
Yes, our stories do have a lot of similarity. Oddly (and maybe slightly funny) though, my mother avoided work like the plague. Even in dementia, she would attempt to fake that she was working and quick to tell people how hard she was working. It was so core to her that she held fast and it was nearly the last part of her to fold.
The book describes specific manifestations of BPD in mothers and one of them is BPD Queen and NPD King – I think my mouth hung open in shock during the entirety of reading the chapter…it was as if she had watched my life. My parents were both born into poor families and they both desperately craved wealth & status. They made it to slightly-upper-middle class but money was always tight and my dad was bitter and resentful over it. If they couldn’t BE rich, LOOKING rich was almost as good. I think it’s Dave Ramsey who says “if you fake rich you will be real broke” and that is what they did.
One reason that I stayed with my abusive husband is that I had no where to go. Moving to my parents house would have been a much-worse Hell than just staying with Cheater. Life was always best when he travelled for work and he did a lot of that.
I definitely see my grooming to tolerate my parents set me up to be a victim of a narc spouse.
Thank you, Unicornomore! Funny how they can be generally the same but different in the specific manifestations. Like there are so many versions of FWs and narcissists, it looks like there are a number of versions of BPD. I don’t know for sure that my mom was BPD, but it’s been a niggling question in my mind, so I will read the book. I already started the sample on Kindle and what jumped out was the “witch.” As a very young child, I thought my mom might be an actual witch, sad to say. She was angry and bitter, fake happy/nice to people outside the family, and there were occasionally huge blow-ups followed by big pity parties for herself.
Like you, I think I stayed with FW early on because moving back in with my parents seemed at the time like it would be much worse — and I would have had to move back halfway across the country, as he convinced me to move to his home state after dating for ten months. And like you, I don’t regret it now because I have my wonderful son.
That was me after DDay #1. I had nowhere else to go thanks to narc mom and cold father and FW narcopath struck the blow after isolating me with an out of state move.
Looking back, the two female counselors were morons who didn’t help me at all.
Looking back, I had three giant milestones. I think he was somewhat surprised by these, but they marked the moments I finally entered reality when it came to my ex.
The divorce was a mess, but my attorney largely kept the upper hand and got it done. He retired the day after the judge signed off, and I hit meh. Closeout was messy, too, with my ex’s attorney dying shortly after they finished their part. My ex periodically went pro se and created yet more chaos, but at that point, I could just laugh it off with my younger attorney, who had been mentored by the older attorney.
No, I don’t miss my ex and all his chaos. I gained a life.
Tuesday is amazing! Seven years ago, my husband kicked me out of the house because I was too “controlling” and needed to learn to appreciate him (read: I found out about his side-chicks and demanded he stop seeing other women). I saw it as my chance to escape and fled to Maine. He demanded a divorce, then was voluntarily unemployed for a year, while his family gave him money because of his “trauma from his wife leaving him.” I was working two jobs and trying to support the kids, while he moved to Texas, claiming he was going to have a great life there, and got back together with his high school girlfriend, who was also conveniently divorcing her husband.
Fast forward to now: He lives in a trash-filled mobile home in Texas that is in financial trouble, and he is being sued for non-payment of debts. (I found this out when I googled his name and came up with some law suits recently filed against him.) None of his kids will even talk to him, and his family is tired of bailing him out. I don’t know what is going on with the girlfriend, but his Facebook page says he is “in a relationship” and hers says “it’s complicated”.
And me? I just closed on a beautiful old farmhouse fifteen minutes from the ocean. I have a good job, lots of friends, and I’m very close to all my kids, and my daughter and grandbaby are coming to visit this summer. My ex tried to hoover me last week, and I felt literally nothing about it. It was obvious to me that he had his epiphany only because he is broke and probably on the verge of homelessness and hoping to get more money from me.
But it’s Tuesday. Once I would have given anything for a kind word from him. Now I don’t care what he says–good or bad. I’m enjoying my life.
“Fast forward to now: He lives in a trash-filled mobile home in Texas that is in financial trouble, and he is being sued for non-payment of debts.”
His trailer is going into foreclosure? 😄
A few things indicated to me that I had reached Tuesday:
One when FW was still alive – he called me out of the blue on day (the divorce was still ongoing and our son was having some medical issues which may have been why I picked up). Unbeknownst to him, I had already figured out that AP had left him. He started crying about how he was all alone, my family didn’t like him, etc. etc. And I felt…NOTHING. Not satisfaction, not triumph, not sympathy, not anger. Nothing at all. He quickly realized I wasn’t going to offer him the kibbles he wanted from my “bummer” responses, and hung up.
After FW died (by his own hand), I was cleaning out his house (retrieving all the marital property he took without permission, as well as gathering my son’s things) and I came across a bag of letters from AP. I took them, but I didn’t read them for several months. Eventually curiosity got the better of me and I read through them all. I thought they would make me angry, but honestly I laughed my a$$ off. They were the most juvenile, junior-high school sounding nonsense I’d ever read (AP was in her mid 30s, married with two kids). Her naivety was pathetic. Half of them were her gushing over him, and the other half were her begging for his attention/forgiveness or trying to get him out of a depressive funk. He clearly put her through the same roller coaster of emotions that he had put me through.
And I gained a life. Early in our separation when I was so depressed I could barely get out of bed, and so broken down from FW’s abuse that I didn’t know who I was anymore, I was trying very hard to find “me” again, and a reason to go on. I remembered three books I had repeatedly checked out from the library when I was in my late teens. I said to myself “I remember liking THOSE”. It was like a lifeline to my lost self. I went online and bought them (they were all out of print, so I bought used copies) with the little money I didn’t have. One of them was a book on English cottage gardens that had a cottage garden/mini farm plan that I had always loved. Well…fast forward to a few years later and I now live in a charming little cottage. I planted a big garden in the back. I have a berry patch. A mini orchard. A wildflower meadow. Chickens. Ducks. One day I looked around me and realized I had manifested that cottage garden dream I had had since I was a teenager. And it’s a life–quiet, simple, unremarkable, filled with little moments of beauty–that I could never have had with FW. He wanted a fast-paced life in the spotlight, fame and fortune and constant activity (to outrun his demons, I came to realize). He couldn’t be alone (and when he ended up alone, he checked out permanently). I love to be alone. My life is so peaceful, so joyful, so full of happiness. It’s beautiful. I’m not wealthy by a long shot. But I have stability, which I never had with FW (who was terrible with money and always needed the latest and greatest and to keep up with everyone else). I have true friends for the first time in my life, people who seem to really enjoy my company, who are honest and kind and real (FW isolated me very badly, and fed me constant lies like “nobody likes you” for so long I started to believe it; all our friends were his friends, and given how they accepted AP, I realized quickly that they were never MY friends at all). I have my wonderful kid (who is so much happier with a stable life and no angry, alcoholic father). I have four cats, too (I love cats but FW was “allergic”, thought I think he just disliked cats as most narcissists do so I wasn’t able to have one, let alone four). Sometimes I find myself smiling and even doing a little happy dance for no reason other than I can’t believe where I ended up. If anyone had told me even five years ago how wonderful my life would become, I wouldn’t have believed them. But it’s better than I ever could have dreamed.
Sorry for all the parentheticals. It’s just how my brain works. Haha.
Love your (new you, new life) story… love how in your desperation you searched for meaning and grasped at a thread from your late teens, from library books no less! Wow. And what a beautiful life you have created. Just wow! (Your English cottage garden has me smiling still!)
I think they do feel like teenagers, with the excitement of sneaking around. No one can sustain that level of excitement in a committed open relationship. Then at some point even if they go with the op, the only way to regain that excitement is to begin sneaking around again.
Luckily most folks who have a modicum of integrity outgrow the need to remain a teenager; cheaters not so much.
Please don’t apologize for parentheses (I love how they allow my ideas to be expressed most clearly). In college I wrote a (short) paper about parentheses (and how helpful they are).
I love the mental image you drew of your lovely cottage with animals and plants and calm happiness. Ironically, I still live in the house that my Cheater chose 18 years ago, but I have made it mine in so many ways. Like you sometimes I do a happy dance that I have the blessings I have (like a wonderful forest in the rear of my yard) which sometimes leads me to yell “it’s my f’ing forest!!” (I told that story here once and another chump admitted to doing the same hahaha)
😆 I love your wee anecdote (about parentheses). And your f’ing forest! 🙌
I’m glad you wer able to make your house your own. That’s so important.
I had originally wanted to keep our marital home (which I chose, and FW constantly said he hated). I eventually let it go because there were just too many bad memories there since he was extremely abusive (plus I couldn’t get financing to buy him out). I’m so glad in the end that I didn’t get that house. My new house is a similar era and feel, but unlike the marital home, the basement is dry and it has air conditioning, as well as a LOT more land and a better location with better schools, lower taxes, and only 10 minutes from my job (but it feels like I live out in the country).
Best of all, FW died before I bought it. He’s never seen it, never set foot in it, nothing. It’s MINE. And it’s safe. There never was an angry man here. Once in a while I (fleetingly) wish he was still alive to see what my life is like now. He told me I “couldn’t survive without him”. That I would jump into another man’s arms so that I could use him for his money (oh, the irony, as FW was always broke). And here I am, thriving and single with my very own home (the mortgage costs nearly three times what our marital home did – and I can afford it). So yeah, it’s MY f-ing home. And it’s your f-ing forest. And we should totally shout that out loud.
I get you. I brought my new husband (and his lovely antiques and Persian rugs) into my home where Cheater had lived for 5 years. I mentally kept track of the point in time that he lived here longer than Cheater did and in my mind, I did. happy dance.
. My now husband has been a peach with regard to the house…he has agreed to never be put on the deed and never inherit it although he pays all expenses from taxes & insurance to new HVAC systems. In turn, I make no claims on his house which we rent out. Upon death, our homes go to our respective kids (although he can live here for 5 years if he wants to as long as he pays expenses and doesnt have a woman move in with him.
I could not have afforded to stay here without him. We’re just beginning to realize that in about 5 more years, we will age-out of this huge house/yard (if we’re lucky…any sudden disability of either of us would necessitate a fast change in plans. I think it will be good for us to pick our next place together.
Mine is small but emblematic to me. My ex always told me he didn’t like it when I wore green and didn’t think I looked good in it, it made me look sickly and wasn’t flattering. I’m a blue eyed blonde, so I always liked green and thought it was a nice color on me, but I phased it out of my wardrobe. I figured there was so point in wearing something my husband didn’t like.
After he dumped me like a bag of rancid trash and moved into a college dorm to date a 19 year old, and my head had sufficiently stopped spinning, I bought several pieces in green and wore them regularly. I almost always got compliments. Hmm maybe I didn’t look terrible and sickly in green after all. Now I wear whatever I want when I want.
Good for you! I love green too even though my FW once said he liked it on me. I’m not letting that spoil a beautiful colour for me. I particularly like emerald green.
There are the lights of Tuesday being turned on in my heart every day- 2.5 years after my divorce from 30 years of being a vending machine. A vending machine for a self centered person who always had a basement I couldn’t see… but felt.with my soul.
My Tuesday lights include extreme gratitude for NOT growing old with a lie, for finally letting my cheater go where he had always been anyway- with OW(s)in emotional affairs and coworker hookup.
That I no longer dance to his sheet music but to my own. To be with my children and grandchildren without his whining for attention as a Peter Pan who never wanted to grow up.
Yes, I am no longer his mother, which is a loss of a child, but the relief has breathed into my lungs a new life, unbounded from his trauma and desire to punish me for his choices
Dropping my Savior complex, my fawning, my constant apologies in taking his blame on me.
I hope to live long to have more of this life without my 2 (married to me )cheaters.
I am safe and thrilled to be on my own. Tuesday is around the corner. I see the lights.
I’m in the middle of the long game… divorced but parallel parenting. Daughter doesn’t know the details of why her dad and I split up. I’m pretty sure the first thing out of his mouth when we were in the mediator’s office was, “I want a non-disparagement clause.” She was little (a preschooler) when he and I split up, and while we had often argued about his relationship with “just a friend,” it would be awhile before my brain really connected that they’d been having an emotional affair (at least).
Anyways, we split up about 7 years ago, and just last night daughter and I were reading together before bed and doing our silly night time routine and she looks at me and goes, “You and dad are different.” Yep sweetie, yes we are.
You shouldn’t look to your kids for validation, but it’s nice when it’s there.
What a sweet moment you had there!
My kids are adults with their own careers and friends, but I love it when they say, “You’re such a great mom of adults!” Yes, I work hard to be that.
They chose to have nothing to do with Dad. My lip was completely zipped on that one, but yes, some validation.
I’m soaking up all these sweet moments as much as I can. She’s almost 11, I know the rocky tween/teen years are almost upon me.
I can relate to the wardrobe story. I admittedly don’t have “great taste”, but I stopped caring about that. I really love loud colors and patterns, both for my wardrobe and for my home. And since D-Day, I’ve really leaned into it. I practically own nothing that’s black, and it gives me great joy. I have a full-length mirror by my entrance door, and when I head out, I would give myself a once-over and sometimes note how many pieces of clothing FW never had a chance to see or criticize since D day 4 years ago, and I would take great joy in counting the number or proportion of those items. For me, it is a metaphor for the cellular renewal, where you effectively become a completely different person every seven years, and my clothes were kind of a stand-in for where I was in that process of becoming someone new. Life has become more colorful. Early on, after D-Day, to combat the persistent thoughts of “my life is now nothing”, I dedicated a side of my bookshelf for mementos and trophies of my new life. And even though I was very choosy with what to put on, it’s overflowing now with travel cards, conference badges, wristbands from concerts, ticket stubs, things like that. And I’m at my work desk, I’m looking at this wall, so my mind never has an opening to go and tell me how my old life was better and I have nothing going for me now. In terms of getting closer to Tuesday, I think I’m getting there. I only ran into FW once since we settled our court case in January, and I was surprised to find that I was calm and I didn’t end up changing my path to avoid him. In fact, once I proceeded to head down that way, he was the one who adjusted to give way to me. And I think this is a great sign of progress, considering that in the past, seeing him would stir up murderous rage or unbearable humiliation in me. This past weekend I hosted what I named a “fresh start” party, and I invited people who have always been there for me or who have been there for me in the last four years, and it was heartwarming to be with people who love me and see my worth. So, my life is better, I live in a reality shared with others and I’m in better alignment with people around me.
The wardrobe thing is real for me too. Cheater used to criticize my style all the time which might have been valid every once in a while because Im just not into fashion. Every once in a while I pull something cute together but mostly I just dont care. My now-husband has plenty of $ that we could spend on clothes but he loves to thrift. It’s to the point of funny now…one of my fav jackets is a grocery store employee jacket he got at Goodwill. I prefer real financial security to fake showoff wealth of expensive clothes
I LOVE the idea of hosting a “fresh start” party and may copy that idea :). Like you, since my Dday a year ago, I’ve been trying to build back better, which has involved making new friends, trying new activities and joining new clubs, and buying some bright beautiful new clothes (my FW preferred me in colourless bland neutrals, which drained the colour from my face and spirit). I’ve just commissioned a local artist to make me three beautiful mobiles that I’m going to mount in my new apartment.
Like other Chumps, my recovery has involved recognizing the narcs in my Family of Origin. It has been painful to learn how little love they have for me: like with the FW, my FOO narcs have used but not supported me. EVER. So now I’m disentangling myself from them and making better choices about who I let into my life.
Most mornings I wake up feeling so peaceful and so happy to be alive. Thank you Tracy and thank you Chump Nation residents–you have helped me go so far so fast!
It’s just shameful when they can’t even get petitioning for divorce right.
I was contacted by my lawyer just after court was done who showed me the paperwork he’d sent in to them unannounced and asked me if I wanted them to work on it .
Firstly- they were MY lawyers, not his and as per, he was expecting me to pick up the bill and clean up his mess.
Secondly- this man who has known me since we were both 19 couldn’t even get my NAME right on the paperwork!
I pointed this out and declined to have anything to do with it.
Their reply back to him made my day.
I’m setting off on a solo drive around Australia in the next few weeks- Tuesday is out there.
Have a wonderful trip! Wish I could go with you.
Thank you 😊
I wish you could come along too- it would be an epic road trip .
Congrats, Thriver. Thank you for your inspirational story. I believe these success stories help baby chumps to see the light at the end of the tunnel.
My Tuesday came on me slowly with no specific time frame or sudden realization that I was over it. After I left FW I just kept getting more emotionally stable (I was a mess before) all the time. I cared less and less about FW’s B.S. as time went on.
Thank you for letting us know, Thriver. Good news ! Life is so good without the FW, I can easily forget what a dumpster fire he was, with his countless STIs, UTIs, and daily array of meds. You have so much good ahead of you! And yes to all you others out there, adult kids know and appreciate us. I am thankful for that. The FW had to get his younger sisters to take him in. I am part of the fabric of the lives of kids and grandkids. Grandkids don’t remember or know him
. Kids want it that way. Lots of good times ahead for you.
This is what I journalled last week – I guess it’s about how I picture Tuesday’s dawn…
Think I’m struggling with some people who mean well, but just want you to move on, look ahead, don’t look back. But I need to process still so I can pack all the broken rubble and timber that pokes up and hurts, tidy it all away. Then i can say: there, it is done.
It’s not like switching a light on in a darkened room and there is instant light. It’s like the breaking of a new day. The light dawns slowly and for each person and their grief, coming out of the deepest darkest night, the dawn will be different and the wisps of shadowed clouds will linger and change shape before they disappear. And some wisps may linger forever. And that is ok. Wounds heal but often leave scars, depending on the depth of the wound.
[Note: I’ve since processed some more. And realised that maybe some of the rubble and brokenness may not ever get packed away like I thought. It might just still sit there in a heap. But I’ll notice it less. And it will get weathered and eroded away to an extent. Regardless, Tuesday will still dawn. Sometimes I think I get a glimpse of one of her warm golden rays. And that brings hope for the new day.