Yeah, you kids.
You hurt me. I’m sorry to say it but you did.
Like in a bull fight, individual swords do not seem to make much difference, until one does and then they all add up together; so do the decisions to ignore me. The brush off the other day staggered me.
I love you. I’ve never stopped trying to reach out to you. I stupidly listened to the advice given that I needed to take it easy when we first split, that I needed to not insist that you all come with me; the advice proved to be bad advice and I question its motive.
Either way. The more I force, the stronger you resist. The more I backeoff, the further you create distance.
Now, I’m without all of you. One by one, you are turning 18 and cutting me off all together.
My reaction is to stop being so hurt; to stop caring so much. This experience is teaching me apathy for the things I care the most about. It is a lesson I do not want to learn. It is a lesson from your other parent’s handbook.
I love you. I miss you. I hate that I have missed so much of your lives from just beyond the viewing area.
But I wait. I’ll wait and hope forever. Know that I’m around, waiting to hear my name called by you. No foul called, no penance sought; simply call me dad and give me a hug.
I apologize for the public forum. It’s what we have. For now.