Week 7 – We wrote their parents.
“I don’t know what to say to them,” Rae cried.
Girl, just say you miss and love them. Tell them about your new school and tell them you’re safe and much happier.
I uttered “happier” just before realizing I shouldn’t have. My suppressive levee of pettiness occasionally breaks now and then. And, I’m learning to be okay with it. I’m human with real feelings. Period. Point. Blank.
Don’t side-eye me. I know what you’re thinking. “Happier” isn’t that bad or petty. Furthermore, it’s true. They are thrilled. You’re probably also thinking: how can one be petty with kids. Right? Let me explain.
Me adding happier most definitely came from a snarky place.
Don’t get me wrong; my pettiness isn’t directed at them but the circumstantial closeness of our relation. If I took in two random children things would feel different. I wouldn’t be bias or affected as much. So, petty Betty pops up every single time I’m reminded of my father. And, with the kids here (Zae specifically) I’m reminded daily. I don’t voluntarily think of him.
“Ima tell them they could call for once,” demanded Zae.
Honey, don’t you think that sounds rude a little?
(practices petty restraint here – great recovery Rahk, hi-five)
“No. Well, kinda but they don’t call. They only called once on my birthday,” pouted Zae.
“When people care about you, they show you,” interjected Raven.
Hmmm, they are listening and learning from me. I thought to myself.
Welp, I was conflicted just like the day they arrived. I didn’t have a plan on how to approach the delicacy of our situation. I never considered this. After all, this is the same man (our father) who disappointed me time and time again. The same no good, lying, slick, abusive, druggy and sad excuse for a man.
Ok, ouch! That sounded pretty harsh (reading it back). Sadly, I know minimal positive about him but to be fair… If it weren’t for him, we wouldn’t exist. Although, I only know his representative (the addict him). I’ve yet to meet or know who God created him to be or meet his amazing potential that does exist (neither has he).
Here I am forced to watch rerun episodes of Does my father love me. I thought I didn’t care and all these years were out of sight, out of mind. I thought all my feelings about him disappeared when my episode of Does my father love me ended. I was wrong.
Zae, my little brother, is a spitting image of a hurtful space I buried. The sad part is his 9yr old adolescence can’t decipher reality just yet. He speaks so highly of our father even glorifying negative things he’s been exposed to. I usually get silent walking a thin line of condemning the acts/behaviors and not the person. How dare I taint his beaming love for his dad.
Soon, I won’t need to say a thing. He will be able to see for himself why he doesn’t get calls or letters back. I’ll be right here to encourage and coach him through the disappointment and hurt I felt his age. I will teach him to be accountable and set him up to be a better man than our father.
Most importantly, I will continue to check petty Betty as I’m challenged to love, grow and to forgive.