Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius and it’s better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring.
I see it in their faces sometimes… and I know.
I know they miss him.
3,000 miles away from the man that helped make them who they are.
Sky remembers him. 5 years old… it’s only been 2 years since we left. He remembers. And I see the longing, confused and inadequate feelings on his face.
Logan… well. He was 7 months old. He doesn’t remember. He doesn’t know. So he has a void he cannot define. That spot that a daddy is supposed to fill that he knows nothing of… so the void sits empty without a name. Poor little one doesn’t even know what a daddy is.
It breaks my heart.
But it was a blessing and a miracle that we got out.
That we survived.
That my pains were mostly emotional and only minorly physical. It could have been worse. We escaped together and it’s a blessing I am grateful for daily.
But I don’t understand.
Why were these precious, beautiful children given a father that would end up being so far away? Emotionally, physically… far away.
Why couldn’t these little men have a father that would show them how to throw a ball, ride a bike, make a philly cheesesteak or use a hanky. Build things with their own two hands and to open doors for women. To swing from rope swings and belch and dream of outlandish camping trips to the great unknown while spending the night with friends in a tree house that said father built.
All the things they will never have.
And I see it on their faces.
And no matter how much I love them and kiss them and throw my arms out to hug them when I pick them up…. no matter how much I ask about their day and color with them and tickle them til they can barely breathe… I will never provide that special bond that they so hopelessly lack.
Will never exist again.
Never existed in the first place.
Breaks my heart.
…the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to LIVE, mad to TALK, mad to be SAVED, desirous of everything at the same time.. the ones who NEVER yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn burn burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars..” -Jack Kerouac
I see Greta Garbo here… the epitome of emotion.