The man who tried to save her.....

So today I caught up with an old school friend of mine, Sophie that I haven't seen in over 10 years. It was truly wonderful seeing her face and hearing voice. She still looks the same, as beautiful as ever and smiling from ear to ear, like no time had elapsed. Although our screaming children certainly showed that we had grown up in some sense.

We talked about many things. My recent separation from my husband, parenting, careers, then I began to share all the tragedies that have been littered throughout the past several years of my life. Losing some of the most incredible and influential women in my life. I spoke of how my aunts passing had changed my family's world. That my mother had not been quite the same since losing her baby sister. I began to tell her of the circumstances of Mikki's passing, of how my mother and she had worked together and how one day an aneurysm had claimed my aunts life while she sat at the reception desk. At which point my friend Sophie asked if my mother and aunt had worked for WHK. A little taken aback I replied with a yes, wondering how on Earth could she possibly know that. She looked at me and said "I think Pete was the one who performed CPR on your aunt." Pete is Sophie's husband. The wind was knocked out of me for a second, and it felt like my heart stopped. What a completely and amazingly small world we live in! I rang my mother and she confirmed it. 

I still can't quite believe my mother and aunt worked with Soph's husband for all those years and we had no idea. It's just mind blowing how lives become intertwined.

Sophie told me of how Peter came home and how that days events had shaken him. I felt so sad that he had to witness that, but I also felt comforted knowing that the person who was trying to breathe life back into her, was somehow connected to me.

I don't know if Sophie or her husband Peter know just how grateful we are for his efforts. That he truly holds a special place in our hearts. That he did everything he could to try and save a life that was so incredibly precious to us, means more than he will ever know. I stopped in to see my grandparents this afternoon, and my grandmother said that my mother had called and told her that it was my friend's husband who had tried to save Mikki. She looked at me through those sad and loving eyes and said, "Please tell him, thank you." So I wanted to take the opportunity to do just that, from my entire family. I'm not sure how to even say thank you for such courage and strength, or that any words will be enough.

Firstly, to my friend Sophie, thank you for putting two and two together and telling me it was your husband who was there that day. Also, it took all the strength I had today not to cry. It's such a hard subject for me, usually just reading her name can evoke the deepest emotions. You see she was so important in my life. Her name was Mikki, and she was amazing. I would give the world to see her face again and hear her laugh, and your husband tried to keep her with us, which is just about the most heroic thing to me and my family.

To Peter, the man who tried valiantly to save my aunt, who is married to my friend Sophie and father to her two gorgeous girls. Thank you for coming back when you heard Mikki collapse. Thank you for trying. Thank you for caring about a human life and giving it your best shot to keep her with us. We are eternally grateful and from the bottom of our hearts..... thank you. 

When forever ends...

I fell in love with the love of my life in 2003. He had a red Mohawk and tattoos all over his arms. I saw him across the bar and knew immediately that I had to speak to him. Within moments of meeting, he had made me smile and laugh, and I realised that this was something special.

Within 5 months we were engaged, and just over a year later we were married. Life was not always a walk in the park. We argued over what most couples argue about, sex and money. But we always resolved things, even though we could both be as stubborn as mules.

6 years after getting married we welcomed our first child into the world. She was perfect and made life all that much better, until I found myself doing most things on my own. My husband always had something else to do....something that took priority. Whether it was a band he was in or just wanting to sleep in, we just didn't seem to even register as a blip on his radar. Nevertheless I persevered.

3 years later we had our second baby and she was equally as beautiful as our first, and just as perfect. Life was nice, but again I found myself doing everything on my own. I used to ask him to join us for family lunch on Sundays, or to come to the park for a play, but he always had an excuse; so I just stopped asking.

I never stopped loving him. I don't know when he stopped loving me; but he did. He stopped. And you can't force someone to love you. I don't know if there is someone else, or if I just disgust him. But something changed in him and before I knew it, he had packed some clothes and moved out. He left me. He left us. So here I am. All alone with two small children. My world ripped out from under me. 

Every time he comes to visit I fall apart inside when I hear Molly's voice inevitably say, "but daddy, you live here! This is your home....we're a family". I feel like I have let my girls down. I'm so hurt, sad, and angry, that it makes me feel sick. I feel such disappointment for the man that I once held so dear. The man that I still, stupidly love. I don't know if I can ever forgive him for this. 

This is all very simplified. I'm not saying that I have been a saint either, I know that I can be hard to live with. So many things have have been said and done over the years, but I fought tirelessly for our marriage throughout it all, and now there is no coming back from this. He gave up on us, and I think that's what hurts the most. I always stood by him, no matter what....but he left me. 11 years of  my life, discarded as if they were nothing. Memories left to rot in the recesses of my mind.

I feel lost, alone, hurt, and so completely and utterly broken. Like a piece of porcelain, all cracked and the slightest move will shatter me into a thousand pieces; and every time I try to repair myself I just find more fractures. 

I struggle to explain it to my girls. Harri is only one, so she's none the wiser, but Molly is 4 and asking so many questions....questions that I have no answers to. So I turned to literature, and Babette Cole saved my life. She wrote a book for children called Two of Everything. It follows a brother and sister duo, Paula and Demetrius Ogglebutt. Their parents just can't get along. It addresses the one thing that I worry about most, that the children think it's their fault. They hold a meeting at school and conclude that in fact, it's the adults fault. It's a beautiful and funny book that appeals to a child's wit, sense of humour, and their level of comprehension. I just never thought that I would have to get a book like this for my kids. I never thought that we would be here.

Just like Mrs Hastings in Strictly Ballroom, I put my "happy face" on. I try to be as civil as I can with him, because my girls deserve to have their father in their lives, but they also deserve so much better than what he has given them so far. I just hope that he steps up and gives them the dad that they believe him to be.

So when the fairy tale ends and forever is nothing more than just a word, this is what is left behind in the wake of the destruction. Two children pining for the father that was never really there for them in the first place, and a mother who is left to pick up the pieces and try and hold it all together, even though she is a train wreck on the inside.
You know, people had said to me you'll mourn the relationship, and I never understood it until it began. It truly has been like a death. It is such a huge and profoundly deep sense of loss. An empty chasm in my chest where my heart once lived. My daughters tear filled eyes pleading with me to see daddy rip the wound even deeper. I never wanted any of this for my girls. I never wanted any of this for me. Now I have to try and explain this to them throughout their lives and hope that they don't hate me for their father's deeds.
I live in the hope that my girls will grow to be strong and independent women one day, who will be proud of their mum for providing a positive and loving home for them.....I live in the hope that one day they will understand.

Today is the day that I open up and share my agony publicly. It has been almost 3 months since he left. I am still broken, but I am able to talk about it now. I guess it's kind of cathartic. To be fair, we do seem to be getting along a little better, although I find it easiest to communicate with him via text or Facebook messaging. Seeing him in person is still very hard, but it is getting easier.
On this day ten years ago, he placed a ring on my finger and we vowed to love and cherish each other until the end of our days. Today, I removed that ring. I look at the ten years worth of indents and ridges on my skin where my rings once rested, and a sense of sorrow and anger engulfs me. I tell myself that today is just another day.