Chaos is Usually Always Ugly, but God Still Forgives

Since I returned from burying our father, I have written hundreds (thousands?) of words in my journal.  The words flow from pen to paper like a broken water faucet.  To my inner circle of confidants, words spew out of my mouth like vomit. 

And on days I can't get myself to peck away at the key board or put pen to the paper, I revert to recording my thoughts.  Through my writing and talking and processing I have realized a couple of things.

Where dad is concerned….in our last month’s together...days....hours... I have no regrets.  I am at peace.  Perfect.   Then of course the events that took place after we laid dad to rest........ *sigh*  (Still cannot bring myself to publicize.)

The next day I took care of some business, (I write about this later.) then packed my bags and left dad’s house so step mom could get the carpets cleaned

I stayed in town for several more days. I still wanted to spend time with dad.  I went to dad’s resting place and laid myself down in the grass beside him.  Then I talked and talked and talked.

I told him the family is all fucked up....laughed....I think he laughed with me buried down below yet looking down from above.  I swear I could hear dad say, "Sweetheart the family has always been fucked up.....I am proud of your work to become LESS fucked up.  I know it didn't happen all by itself.  Life was hard.  Sometimes messy.  A lot of times confusing.  But you my dear have always pressed on.  I am proud of you.  Don't give up now." 

So nope, I have no regrets.  Sure my tears, sorrow and suffering, can overtake me without notice.  I am mourning.  It is common.

The other thing I realized..... where family is concerned…I feel as though I stand in a sea of fury, resentment, deception and lies.  The phone call with mom was the last dose of corruption just waiting to permeate every vein in my body.  It did for a couple of hours too.

I'll write these words again, *my faith and relationship with God does not make me or my life perfect... worry free, without conflict, difficulty or pain.* My relationship with God requires W.O.R.K.   I say it many times throughout the day, "Thy Will NOT my will."

At times, matters of my family stab at my heart and soul.  It used to feel debilitating.  And right now....after everything,  I must look to my faith to maintain my strength.  Feel God’s light.  I want (need) God’s grace every moment of the day right now, and I tell him so.

On one hand, I don’t want to write this blog today.  I have worked on it for 3 days now. The most important things are the hardest to say so I walk away.  Today I said, "No more. This is when you need to write.  Get it out and be done with it.  Hand it over to God."

I talk to God, and I write. As I put pen to the paper each word is purposely cast into the universe.  This is how I give it all to God, because I do not want one ounce of ugliness and corruption in my body.   And once my words are released, a feeling of calm is released into my body and soul as if to hear God’s words, “I got this now.”

So today God, I give this burden to you…

When all was said and done, dad laid to rest, people came and gone, and my bags were packed I got *the news*.  Big brother claims he lost the last 12 months of dad’s life due to me.

Allow me to recap:  Early 2011 big brother drove 380 miles to dad’s house.  (Do I have the year correct?)  Maybe big brother was in dad’s house for one hour or two before dad asked about little sister – ME *gasp*  Dad did what dad usually does not do.  Ask questions.  Mind other people’s business...even his children.  On that night dad deviated from his own *rules* because Dad needed answers.  Of course, he did!

Tons of shit went down in both of his children’s lives in 2009 and 2010.  For reasons, I do not want to get into just yet... it is a known fact that none of *us* volunteer the shit that happens in our life.  But we gotta admit...shit was D.E.E.P. for both of us in 2009 and 2010.  No way to make either of our stories pretty.  Dad wanted to know what happened, so dad asked:

"Why did your sister abruptly leave California? What was she doing on that side of the Mason Dixon Line?" 

What was your response big brother”?   “I think she is an alcoholic.”


Word is dad didn’t much care for your answer.  Why so surprised big brother? Didn't you get it? Dad already KNEW so much more than you thought he knew.  Dad wanted to hear YOU say the words.  Dad just wanted his son to be up front with him.  Man up.  Share your downfall.

In this family, we all have failed at one time or another….dad too.  Failure has never been an issue with our father.  He just wanted to know his children got back up. Dad looked for resilience.  Strength.  Determination.   The million dollar question:  How do his children pick their self up?

Hell dad was still trying to get an answer to his other lingering question about that *college fund*.  (Youuuuuuuu know what I am talking about.)

Yeah, I see it big brother…your reply to dad, “I think she is an alcoholic.”  

Attention diverted, right?  Too awful to talk about the real reason I abruptly left California to drive to Georgia.  Surely you remember the night, big brother?  I sure as hell do.  That was the night I got the phone call in the middle of the night.  NOT dad.  NOT mom.  It was ME.

That was the night YOU came unhinged.  (Approximately two months after I hit my emotional bottom. Interesting timing, huh?  Said it though our bodies knew.) That was the night YOU jeopardized your nineteen year old son (my nephew) because you made him go with you.

Remember that night– shhhhhh….

Remember the gun- shhhhh...

Remember what you did-shhhh...

It was only a matter of hours before the police stormed into your house.  Then the C.H.A.O.S.

No, really I see it big brother. Not exactly the kind of shit you want to discuss with dad, huh?

I know it is not easy to be asked a question that forces a man to look in a mirror.   Trust me. (Oh come on, T.R.Y.) I know because I stand in front of a mirror every day of my life today.  Have been for the last 3 years…..revisiting all the ugly, dark, sick shit that makes up OUR life so I can put it to rest and press on.

So, dad provoked you – simply wanted answers, and you couldn’t accept your own shit.  You couldn’t answer him.  Instead, you pointed a finger at me, and yeah, dad got pissed, so you grabbed your little duffle bag, turned around walked out of dad’s house never to return until AFTER you found out dad had cancer.

How long did you stay gone……twelve months maybe?

The last twelve months of dad’s life……

And YOU DARE BLAME ME for lost time with dad?

Man up big brother. You fucked up.  We all do.  We all have.

That whole episode is YOUR cross to bear.

Let me be clear big brother....your inability to respond to dad's question had nothing to do with me. It had everything to do with you. You missed out on 12 months all by yourself.

Own it.

Then forgive yourself. 

God is simply waiting for you to ask.

God is a loving and forgiving God. 

Let him take it now...




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