Closing

Dear Dad,

I struggled to get up this morning. The thought of tackling the day completely overwhelmed me. But I couldn’t figure out why my body felt heavier than usual, why my eyes refused to open, why all I wanted to do was go back to sleep. Then I reached for my phone and saw the date and tears replaced lethargy. 

Today was the closing. The house was sold. Mom no longer has to worry about it. But neither G3 nor I now have a place we can get excited about visiting. We no longer have a home to which we can escape.

And what really compounds the pain is that Mom had told me repeatedly that she would keep the house if I wanted to live there. It was tempting, more than a little appealing. But I couldn’t. My main reason was that there is no ATA Taekwondo on the East End, and Taekwondo was too important to G3. It gave him a sense of accomplishment. It built up his confidence. And he had switched to ATA because he wanted to compete. There was a time he looked forward to tournaments. However, he is now enjoying Boy Scouts so much that he said he wants to spend more time doing Scouting activities. He’s not sure he wants to commit to doing all the local tournaments because they may conflict with camping trips. This after Mom has sold the house, after it’s too late to change my mind. I stayed in New Jersey where I’ve never really been happy — where I’ve mostly encountered disappointment — so that G3 could continue doing something he had been passionate about. Boy Scouts is everywhere. I didn’t need to stay here for that. I had thought I was doing the right thing. Sacrificing something for myself so that my son could be happy. But I suppose this has taught me a valuable lesson. Never again will I ever make a decision based on what’s best for someone else. In the future, in all decision I make, my happiness will need to be a priority.

With a great deal of effort, I did pull myself out of bed. But I was in bad mood — cranky and sad — all day. Not exactly the best frame of mind to teach. The listlessness never really left me. I dragged myself through the day and made it to my desk, the few minutes I have to myself to write at the end of every day. 

Eighteen months (and two day) ago I drove you to the hospital. I hoped and prayed you would live, but the universe had other plans. For the last year and half I’ve been living an awful nightmare. And it seems to be getting worse. (A friend of mine even told me that if my life were fiction, if it were a novel, she would have stopped reading, because no one could really believe so much misery could happen to one person.) Will it ever get better? It’s bad enough you died, but I had no idea how far reaching the effects of your death would be. The loss of this house is just too much. I feel crushed beneath the weight of it. And the fact that I’m now completely trapped in New Jersey is awful. It’s not like I’m suddenly going to start liking it here.

I miss you!