|View from the front porch|
I had not been all the way in that house since I left to visit my mom in January of 2012. Part of me knew that I needed to go, and try and retrieve some of the Bumper's dad 's things so I can share our story withe her when she gets older. Part of me just wanted to hide under the covers. The part that knows what is best for the Bumper won.
|The Bumper's Dad|
|The Bumper and her Daddy|
|Taking a dip on our Honeymoon|
Everywhere I turned I was confronted by memories of our life together, good and bad. It was so hard, so very very hard and then I saw the bathroom in the master bedroom. He had scrawled a message of such despair that I dropped to my knees as the sobs tore through me. I cried the way I have been wanting to cry since last November. I cried for the good times we shared, I cried for love lost, I cried for who he was and who he became. It was the first time I broke down that day, but it was not the last. When the emotion finally got too much for me to bear I left, taking the champagne glass from our wedding and with tears streaming down my face. From the house I took his wedding ring, the kilt he wore when we went to Renaissance Festivals, the mortar and pestle we used to grind the cloves for the first pumpkin pie we made together, and his five year sobriety chip from AA. These are the things I want to share with the Bumper for these carry a story of love, joy and triumph.
|Toes in the water|
In time I will tell the Bumper of her Dad and his life. First I will tell her the good things, and when she is old enough and ready to hear, I will tell her the rest. Above all I will make sure to tell her that her Dad loved her and wanted her. For at the heart of this is a story of love and an illness that tried to destroy that love, but in the end did not.