Mom.

  Mom.  I never really think about it, but recently I have.  Probably what she's going through that's making me think about it.  It's tough to see... or even experience, because it's my mom.  And my mom has always been strong.  Big mouthed, pushy, guilt-rider, pain in the ass she can be.  We rarely get along and it's because I know her... and in a way, I'm a little like her.  I do have a big mouth sometimes.  I give my opinion freely and it's because of her I do.

  For years, I've seen her taken medication that would knock me on my ass.  It's impossible to even fathom.  I've tried some kinds of small time drugs and only ever made pot a habit, but no... not compared to her medicine.  And it's all day every day.  Morphine.  And if she doesn't have it, she's miserable.  It's difficult to watch for the last 12 or 13 years.  I've had to listen to talks about suicide... and while I'm human and I am understanding why... and why me... it's so hard to hear.  She's my mom.  She was a big reason I was fun with my kids.  Parts of my mom and parts of my dad, went into all the greatest memories with the kids.  Scary movies.  Hide and Go Seek throughout the house, singing songs all day, sprinkler days, broken glowstick raves and playing in the rain.  Though I'd like to think that the glowstick rave, was completely genuine.  That's all me.  That's my mom when I see her.  Now it's her miserable smile.  Her pained smile... trying to find who she was too.  Skin on bones.  Pale.  Shakes.  Still a cigarette in her mouth and a cockiness in her tone.  At any moment she could just start yelling.  Make up things to even yell about anymore.  She's no where near the mom, I remember.  She's sometime very mean.  But, she's my mom.  I love her and I've only got one.

  I just keep hoping the next time I see her, she's better... feeling well or even excited.

  Well, recently she had surgery on her back.  As I was told... the cancer she had, had eaten part of her bones in her back, along where the disks are.  (Disks are cushions of cartilage in between parts of bones, in this case her vertebra.)  And a few broke.  So, she had an experimental surgery or new technique or something where they take disks from a cadaver... and put them in her back.  It happened on Monday.  I called her and trying to understand her was nearly impossible.  Lethargic, grunts and groans... just very hard to listen to.  To a degree, I had expected it.  So, even bracing for it didn't do me any good.  I called her again yesterday to check on her.  She called back, thinking I was someone else, asking this someone else... questions that I wouldn't know.  Completely confused on who her son was.  And complaining about the pain and the fact that she hasn't moved in about 6 days.  She's so frail...  It's extremely difficult.

  I don't tell my mom, I love her enough.  But, she would know I'm worried if I did.  And I don't want her to know I'm worried.  I love you mom.  Please find the strength to get through this... or I will need to and I'm not ready yet.

It's difficult, but I will need to see her soon.  I really should.

Triggers.

  This weekend, I spent with Tom and Kelley.  It warms my heart to see those 2 together.  My late nights here, I've spent watching holocaust documentaries...  why?  Why not?  To be educated.  To know a thing or two.  To gain a little strength by seeing an entire race or populas, raise from the ashes and do something to better themselves.

  I've done little to better myself.  Though there have been changes, I'm still stuck.  Still... the little things remind me and I find myself sitting in a puddle of tears.  I miss my children, but have no idea if I can be a dad again.  Make no mistake... I was a great dad before.  And the feeling of them being away, reinforces how much I love them.  Am I capable of contacting them?  I have nothing to prove to her.  I have nothing to prove to them.  I have to prove it to myself, one day...

  Watching a movie tonight, reminded me of everything and I lost what was going on in the movie, playing back the memories in my head.

  "Some where... over the rainbow...  skies are blue... and the dreams that you dare to dream, really do come true."

  I sang this to them, as much as she did.  It was such a routine that they would sing it back.  And when I heard the words... that's what I heard.  Alora and Kylie singing the sing along with daddy or mommy.  And tears began to fall from my face.  Trying to smile and hide them from Tom/Kelley, I smiled and laughed when a joke came about.  I couldn't tell you what it was, because I honestly wasn't paying attention...  but all I could hear, were the kids singing in my head.

  It's never gotten easier.  It's never faded, as I remember every memory.  With her.  With them.  It's just hurt more as time has gone on and the more distant the kids get.  I only realized recently, that my son doesn't know who his father is.  He doesn't remember me.  And I'm positive that at this point, she's got him calling someone else daddy to the point where he's Alora.  Confused on her biological dad, just as he will be.

  I don't remember doing anything worthy of this.  Anything deserving of this pain.  Anytime that I failed to love my children.  Anytime, I acted as if my time was more important than theirs.  ...  and I can't.

  My days were often spent playing, singing, teaching and coming up with ways to spend my time with them.  If it was playing in the snow, running under a sprinkler, going to a park, museum or fair... I was always there.  I never did anything at all to deserve this.  Not to her.  Not to them.

  Maybe the perception is different...  but I don't accept that.  Even today, everyone I talk to... knows that I was a very involved child.  They pass their children off to me (even for a few moments) and tell me that I musta been a dad.  I was.  And I don't know why that's gone.  I really wish I did.

  Memories are triggered, all the time.  Having a great memory, I can't forget... though sometimes I wish that I could.  It would do me some good to erase the memory of being as lucky as I always knew I was.  Being a loving fiance and father.  Maybe then, I could get on with my life.  Maybe then, I could meet a wowzer of a woman and fall in love again.  Maybe then, I could make my dreams happen.

  I stopped seeing my therapist.  It just didn't seem to be helping.  I found myself sometimes crying after sessions and it only made the nightmares come more.  And much like the lawyer, she denies the idea that Alora is my daughter.  Making it clear each time.  And that's not what I feel in my heart.  That's not what 6 years of raising her, taught me.  I don't bring her up much anymore, just so I don't have to explain...  but, I still feel no different.

  It's going to take time.  I know...  and it's the part I hate.  When memories fade into age.  And I hate that idea.  I'm ashamed of myself for thinking that way.  But, when your exhausted from the emotional pain and torture...  it seems like the only good thing to look forward to.

A contradiction...

  I'm by no means, perfect.  I've never claimed to be.  I've just taken the world in stride and tried to find out where I belong in all of the madness.

Over the past few months, I've changed.  Hell... the past few years has been a hell of an eye-awaking experience.  I've only learned time and time again, that the only person I can trust... is myself.  People I've put all of my faith, love and trust into has only proven over time that it's pointless.  I've put myself out there and worked to the bone, to make someone else happy.  And in the end, I'm alone.

This statement couldn't be more true about my old life... my ability to be a father or to love someone to the brink of insanity.  Love is crazy... it's true.  Loving friends is no different.

Everyone has their own agenda.  I stayed with Amanda for 5 months, last year.  Before moving in, she had attempted to have an affair with me, on her current boyfriend Mike.  It ruined our relationship, as somewhere deep down... it affected the way she treated me, after I declined to go through with an affair.  At first, it didn't seem to be apparent... but it wasn't long before her entire attitude changed.  And when I was asked to move out, it affected the relationship with other friends... at which I had no doubt that she would be spreading rumors and lies, keeping this big secret from them all.  She had her own agenda and when I didn't fit into it, I was discarded and lied about.  Seems women have that ability to create bullshit.

I start to question myself.  Do I exhibit some sort of vibe, that allows this continue to take place?  Because after having it done big time, by my ex...  it seemed to be happening everywhere.  Trisha, Candy, Amanda, Emerald.  All of them left when they didn't get what they wanted.  3 out of 4 of them, managed to make things more difficult... though I stayed morally right.  I didn't commit the same bullshit as when I was a kid.  I wasn't the other guy anymore.  I wasn't the secret.  And it took a long time for me to realize the gravity of all of it.

Tracy even.  Which I'm only reminded of, because of a dream I had of her recently.  Last year, she told me she loved me.  In a romantic sense, despite being with someone she doesn't really love.  It lasted no more than a weekend.  But, I still feel the scar it's created.

It will always boggle me.  I wonder if it'll ever change?

How am I doing?

  These past 2 months have seemed to fly by.  Most of my time is spent, huddled next to my computer.  Watching movies, listening to music or playing a game.  I'm exercising and my body has been changing along with it.  I feel good... but still bad.  Lately, my nightmares having been getting the best of me.  Faces that haunt me.  I wake up in cold sweats and sometimes, still tears.  My days, I spend thinking about the kids every waking minute.  I spend ignoring the pain and fighting back the tears, doing my best to fake a smile.

  I'm not like who I used to be.  The spirit is still there, but the will is slow and never brims over.  I have begun looking for a therapists, as Jeff and Sarah really believe it'll help me.  I don't like the idea of explaining to a stranger, why I have no pep in my step.  Why I am sad, withdrawn and a much quieter person.  And more and more, people are opening up to tell me.  Ron, who once went out with Ali...  visited and visits more, telling me that he doesn't see much of a soul in my eyes.  Like, I've lost life in me.  He gave me a hug, which I didn't ask for.  And told me that he's there for anything I need.  He said "Out of all the couples... I honestly, thought yours was working."  All I could reply was "Me too", never knowing the truth or even coming to terms that the cheating, very well could have been present a lot longer than I ever knew.  All I need, is for him to update me on the kids.  To tell me how they are growing up.  It's hard to even imagine how much they've grown, as I choke back tears right now.

I sure hope this Therapist works.  I'm tired of living in constant grief and reminiscing of love felt.  I've tried to get past it.  I've really tried.  I've dated.  I've talked to women.  I'm just scared.  I'm tired.  I just want to sleep.

These are the feelings, I've been fighting for years.  A confusion on what to do.  A regret on things I've allowed to happen.  They could be here with me, right now... if only I choose differently...

There's been some good.  There's been small changes.  There's been light, in my darkness.

But, how has anyone else gone through this... and come out okay?  Will I be okay?  In all the changes in my life... why is this one is so hard to deal with?  All I talk about, are the kids.  And while it gives me a perfect reason to see their pictures, it comes less and less as I learn to live with this.  This is what she wanted though.  And now, I am as much as a ghost in her life as anyone else she's had.  I still wish I wasn't though.  I still wish I was.