Dad | fish in a blender

Total and complete elation! Complete and total devastation.

In my dreams, there’s a lot of confusion and wonder about where Jeremy is, what he’s doing and who he’s with. We’re not sure why he’s not with us, but keep a constant search (in the midst of other nightmarey scenarios where I’m trying to protect the kids from aliens, intruders, the government and even wild animals). Eventually, he shows up. On a stretcher. Or in his casket.

Then, the interrogation begins:

You do know you left us, right?
We had a funeral! We buried you! How can you be here?
How many times is this going to happen?
Why can’t you just stay here?
What should we do when your doctors find out?
Why are you here???

I’m not recalling any answered questions by Jeremy, in my recurring dreams. But last night? Last night was different.

We (you know, the collective of all of us, possibly including you) were outside a large metal building mourning his death. A Sonic carhop enters the scene. There were motorcycles, maybe even biker dudes. Some people were laughing, remembering Jeremy and his Jeremy ways. Some of us were frozen still. In shock. Not talking. Too sad, too much.

From the back, in struts my husband and Jonathan and Caedmon’s dad. Cowboy hat, 5 o’clock shadow, bright eyes and his swagger in full glory. I kinda think he had a stalk of wheat dangling on his lips. He was wearing Wranglers with a torn pocket and a turquoisey blue tshirt. His square-toed boots, a worn brown leather belt and all of the confidence in the world were his perfect accessories.

No one even missed a beat. He came up to me, put his arm around me, and I declared at an oddly normal volume, “We’re ok. It’s going to be alright”. Everyone cheered, smiled and dispersed. Nothing was wrong anymore. The kids were thrilled, yet none of us acted surprised he showed up.This morning, when I woke up to my blaring alarm, I was totally and completely elated. Then I was completely and totally devastated. All within half a second of waking up.

I lay awake that night til 3am, bawling. I couldn’t move a muscle, partly from fear and disbelief, partly because Jeremy was sleeping and I didn’t want to wake him. All of the anger I had kept bottled up came spilling out. I was infuriated that this crap was coming up again. I was infuriated that the little bit of time I had with Dad growing up was tainted. I was infuriated that she could do these things to me and get away with it. I was infuriated that she could be hurting someone else.

For the next 3 days, I was obsessed with finding out if she had ever been convicted for her disgusting crimes. I googled her name, and felt sick when I saw it attached to my Dad’s. I tried to do a background check, showing any criminal activity. I paid for a 24 hour trial on netsleuth.com, which turned out to be a scam – I couldn’t get any information without paying additional fees. I actually found her on reunion.com, but without paying a yearly fee, or signing a montly contract, I couldn’t get past her screen name, age and location. I tried to get as much free info I could, using the alias of Kelly Smith, a 53 year old male from NY (don’t ask – it just came to me!). Finally, my obsession ended. But my disgust and anger didn’t.

I couldn’t tell anyone about this. I didn’t want to begin counseling again. So, I just dealt…til I called the IRS…

I was calling for the umpteenth time, trying to get some stuff figured out with our business and personal accounts. The lady I talked to ended up arguing with me about what could and could not be done, and I argued right back. Just like the woman on the show, this woman on the phone set off a trigger of sorts, and again I was back in my childhood hell with my stepmother. Oh my gosh! Are you kidding me? I feel sick. I’m dizzy. I have this emptiness in my gut – an abyss that has no end. I can’t do this…I’ve got to settle down. I’ve got Caedmon in the back seat. I just got to town – how am I supposed to get anything done when I feel trapped inside myself? I took care of one errand, shaking the entire way through. By the time I got back in the car, I was shaking and crying again. Are you kidding me? This is ridiculous! How old am I? I cannot believe that this stuff is bothering me again! Get over yourself! Goodness…

I did calm down eventually, after asking Deb to just talk to me about nothing in particular. I couldn’t tell her what was wrong, but she did just carry on a conversation with me about the past couple of days, her kids, her life. It did help tremendously. I felt like an ass not telling her why I needed her to talk to me, but I really felt as though I shouldn’t.

This goes on for about a month. I would be a mess by the end of some days, and Jeremy would get dinner for he and the kids while I soaked in the jacuzzi. He would rub my back for everytime I thought about her and replaced that thought with my kids and himself. I thanked him for being so supportive, and assured him I was going to get past this. He knew I had been up late one night because of crap with her, but he didn’t ask any further questions. I felt so out of control of my emotions. I would cry at the drop of a hat.

Then we started studying Hebrews 1 in substantial depth…