Looking Back ... And Ahead

Hey Ms J. Did you know it's the last day of the year? December 31, 2007. It's been eventful, to put it mildly. Someone murdered an important lady recently in Pakistan. George Bush continues to murder people in .. where was it again? Iran? Iraq? Afghanistan? I don't know. I can't keep track of it.

But other things happened too. Other, more important things. Good things, mostly.

Dan has found his own apartment. He's discovered the benefits of employment. He no longer believes, as his mother does, that his welfare is someone else's responsibility. Dan has some growing up yet to do, but he's come a long way, Ms J, and I'm proud of him. I reckon we all have some growing up to do, haven't we?

And Meagan. Meagan is struggling at the moment. She's caught in the clutches of adolescence and trying her best to survive it. She now lives in the country, far from friends and familiar comforts. Her school work is suffering. She doesn't appear to be very happy lately. But fortunately for her, there's RJ. RJ provides the security and attention she needs these days and I honestly believe she'd be worse off without him. My hope is that he might encourage her studies. My hope is .. My hope is that I'll practice letting go and learn to let them grow in their own way, on their own terms, and with a minimum of fatherly fertilizer. One day, I pray, Meagan will find the courage to leave the environment in which she now lives, and discover a place less pernicious and more nurturing. God only knows how it will all turn out, but surely He must have a plan for my girl.

2007 was an important year for me as well. It was the year I found Love. Or perhaps it was the year Love found me. I don't know and I suppose it doesn't matter. The point is simply this: I love Colleen.

I met her first at church about four or five years ago. Her young daughter was strikingly beautiful with dark hair and large green eyes. Ivy was a shy thing, though, often hiding behind her mum or her grandma when I tried to speak to her. I suppose I saw Colleen as a possible partner then, but I chose not to approach her. I wasn't yet ready for a relationship. Besides, I reasoned, it would be too difficult, too complicated. Women are ... women are different, Ms J. They can be demanding at times. I just wasn't ready for all that. And a little girl as well.

But we're together now, we three. It feels fine. It feels like a family, Ms Journal. It feels like my family. I've chosen wisely this time, I think. I hope. Last time, I chose a woman who excelled at having fun, but shunned work entirely. The first time was, ... Well the first time was Kelly. She was a bit off even then but I was too young and inexperienced to notice. Or care. She was a twit and I was an angry, violent arsehole. The day she ended our marriage was probably the luckiest day of my Life.

Now there's Colleen. I'm a better man, I think, and I know Colleen's a better woman. Better for me, I mean. It was often a struggle to be with Kelly. It was a bit better with Donna, but still difficult sometimes. It's different with Colleen, though. "Easy" is the best way to describe our relationship. I don't have to worry every time she opens her mouth around my family or friends. I don't wonder what we'll fight about next or whether I'll be able to control my anger. I don't feel angry anymore, Ms J. I don't feel trapped here. Life with Colleen is peaceful.

I was upstairs here at home the other day when Colleen called to me from the bottom of the stairs.

"Dale?"

I answered her and responded to whatever it was she wanted. I remember thinking, "Gosh, her voice is soft."
Donna's voice was more shrill and insistent. Kelly's voice was often tinged with threat or manipulation. It's hard to describe, really. Perhaps it was the way I heard it rather than the way it actually sounded. I don't know. All I know is Colleen is a very easy woman to be with. We've only been together about three months but I feel comfortable when I'm with her. Safe. Accepted. Free to be myself.

I believe she is a gift from God. I think God waited until I learned to be a good man before He sent me a good woman. It was a long wait, Ms J. Seven lonely years. But if I'd known Colleen would be my reward at the end, I'd have suffered it gladly.

2008 promises to be a stressful year with huge changes at work and the ongoing worries about my kids. I'll get through it, though, with a good woman who cares deeply for me and hopes and prays for my happiness.

I love you, Colleen.

Happy New Year, everyone!

***

Christmas 2007

Merry Christmas, Ms J. Mine was excellent. Better than I'd imagined. Better even than last year, although last year was no hell as I recall. But I got everything I wanted this year.

I saw both Dan and Meagan. I was able to arrange my work schedule to allow me to attend family Christmas gatherings for both my family and Colleen's family. I was able to attend the Christmas Eve service at church and spend the night with my Colleen. Christmas morning found us together still, sharing the excitement of the day with little Ivy. Ivy is Colleen's daughter, Ms J. She's just turned eight.

Christmas morning was as magical as I could ever hope for without going back in time. It was a pancake breakfast, an hilarious game of Twister, and the joy of a little girl unwrapping her gifts from Santa. It was family time. And it felt warm and good and right.

It was a fab Christmas. Thank you, Colleen. And thank you, Ivy. Life is good at the moment, Ms J.

Thank God.

***

Friends: Helping With Life's Troubles

Remember that insurance company, Ms J? The one that sent an inspector round last fall to see if my house was worth insuring? They found some knob and tube wiring and ordered me to have it updated or they'd revoke my coverage. I was given ninety days to comply.

Larry was here today. Larry is a certified electrician. He's a friend who goes to my church. He's Colleen's daddy and he spent about three hours in my basement this afternoon, sorting out wires and upgrading the old knob and tube. I followed him around with a flashlight, peering up through my bifocals while he worked.

The job is nearly done. Larry will write a letter attesting to the work that's been done and I'll send it off to the insurance company.

Friends who help are worth more than gold, Ms J. I will offer Larry some money for his trouble. He may refuse it. I don't know. Either way, I will repay him by being kind to his daughter.

I'm in love with Colleen.

***

What Now?

OK. We're back on the air, Ms J. Out in the open. Fully exposed and vulnerable. And available to all the world.

So ...

How have you been, then?
I'm fine.
The weather has been a bit snowy.
Work is still difficult, but I'm managing.
Christmas is coming soon. I'm not fond of the Christmas season.
The kids are fine.
I spoke with Dan the other day. He's fine.
Meagan phoned yesterday. She's ... fine.
We're all fine.

Is it just me, Ms J, or do you find this post a bit ... lacklustre? Wouldn't you rather hear about my kids and how they're struggling to accept the challenges and vagaries of Life today? Wouldn't you rather hear about Dan's stubbornness and Meagan's tears? Or about my ex-wife? You don't care a whit about the weather or my stupid job, do you?

Neither do I.

But it seems I can't always say what I feel here. People, sometimes innocent people, get hurt.

So I'll mind my p's and q's here for a while. I'll write what I can, when I can.

Colleen wrapped all my Christmas gifts yesterday. Colleen is nice.

Merry Christmas.

***

Vanilla Blog

This blog has gone underground. It's become a private thing, Ms J. I only share my musings with those I choose. I'm not happy about this change, but I deemed it necessary after a recent turn of events. Someone discovered the blog and objected to the content he found here. That someone was the boyfriend of my Meagan.

In a way, RJ's discovery feels a bit intrusive. I've always written from my heart, and yes, there have been times when my posts were filled with acrimony. Or worry. Or outrage. I know it sounds silly, but I've always held a belief that this space was nothing more than a personal diary. I guess I was naive in my belief that it could remain private. I mean, it's here on the internet for all the world to see, isn't it?

Some of the things I've written have been cruel, I'll admit. But everything I've written has been written from my heart. The heart is not always a loving place, despite what poets and song writers might tell us. The heart, in a figurative way, is the source of emotion. It's the source of passion. And I'm a passionate guy.

This time, though, my passion has got me in trouble.

So what am I to do, Ms J? "Quid faciam?" asked the ancient Romans. What shall I do now? Shall I keep the blog private? Share it only with certain invited guests? That would be safer, wouldn't it? Besides, I could choose only people who'd always support me, people who wouldn't object to my expression of fear and anger. But what good would that do me?

Why do I write this blog, Ms Journal? You know I keep another diary, a private journal, that is printed and bound in duo-tang folders. A stack of them, dating back to my darkest days in 2001, sit here in a closet collecting dust. Maybe there's a stage play in there. Or a TV movie. Maybe there's a novel. Or a children's book.
I've printed and saved my thoughts, my successes and failures, and chronicled it all each day since January 1, 2001. I could easily limit my musings to my private journal, couldn't I? But I don't. And do you know why? Because my ego loves the attention it gets here on the internet. And to be completely honest, a private blog seems quite unremarkable.

Since I made this blog private, I've received a number of email requests from strangers asking to be allowed to continue reading it. Who are these people? Where have they come from and what is their interest in my Life?

What shall I do, Ms J? Shall I keep the blog private? I've sent RJ an invitation to read it. I don't know if he has or not, but I'll assume he has. If RJ has access to it, Kelly may read it as well. And Meagan.

I could make this blog public again, and sanitize it. I could write bland, emotionless posts about work and the weather. But no one wants to read that crap. People want to read about hardship and struggle. Real Life. They like to hear about real pain and real pleasure. People are fascinated by the real Life experiences of strangers. It's an odd thing, I think, but that fascination has given birth to "reality television." It's staggeringly popular.

Sighhhhhhh ....

I don't know what to do. Hell, I'll bet even Kelly is hoping I'll write something more about her. We all love to know what others think of us. And her acerbic comments here might draw more readers. Gosh, I might one day have the most popular blog in all the world.

But is that what I want? Do I really want to garner a readership by writing about the misadventures of others? That's not fair, is it?

I think I'll keep typing away, Ms J, and share some of my thoughts and feelings with you. It might be best, though, if I tried to be a bit more discerning about subject matter.

***

This "RJ" Fellow

Hello, Ms Journal.

I'm back. I've been trying to understand what it was, exactly, that made me think it was alright to post such libellous drivel here about Meagan's boyfriend. Perhaps you didn't get a chance to see what I wrote here last week. And perhaps that's a good thing. I've deleted it.

You see I met RJ a week ago last Sunday. Meagan was in G-town and she wanted me to meet him. She's proud of her man, and she wanted to show him off. She wanted her father to meet this boy about whom she's completely crazy. She wanted me to see him in the same light she does.

So I met him. I met both of them at the mall in town. We shared some conversation and later, I drove them back to Mt. Forest where Meagan's mum met us and took them home with her. It was a good first meeting, Ms J. I was charming and kind. So was young RJ. The difference was, RJ's behaviour was sincere. Mine was not.

Well, that's not entirely true. Let me explain.

RJ (his name is Robert James, but folks call him RJ) was an absolute delight. He was respectful of Meagan and me. He was considerate of the feelings of others. He did everything right. I, on the other hand, acted like the great guy I am, and after giving him a hug and sending them on their way, came home here and wrote a hurtful, dishonest post about him.

Why did I do that? Why did I smear this young man's good name when I had only just met him?

I came home from work a few days later and checked my blog to find a long, long comment from someone named Jimmy. It was RJ. He had discovered my blog and caught me in my lies. And he was hurt and angry. Disappointed. Confused, probably. He'd assumed our meeting had gone well. His comment lambasted me.

Ironically, RJ's comments were not as withering as mine. He has a way, this boy, of communicating his feelings and getting his point across without being cruel. I was embarrassed as I read it, but never once felt as though I were being attacked. RJ writes clearly, coherently, and as eloquently as I do. The difference is that he's kinder than I am.

I spent a sleepless night, and the next day, offered apologies. I'd hurt Meagan and I'd hurt RJ. This young man was completely undeserving of my wrath and not only had I disrespected him, but I'd done it in a very public way. I am ashamed of that. Worse still, I hurt Meagan, the girl I claim to love more than any other.

I spoke with them recently and explained my motives for writing such hurtful things. I told them I was afraid. I was afraid RJ might break Meagan's heart. And I was afraid he might lead her toward drugs or toward quitting school. So much of my bad behaviour is based on fear, Ms J. If I could simply learn to trust my daughter's instincts, I wouldn't have to worry so.

"Don't worry, Dad," she tells me. "I'm fine."

I think another reason I wrote those things was because I feel jealous of RJ. I suppose, in some way, I feel threatened by him. You see, Ms J, Meagan is my girl. She's my little Scout. And now she's showing more interest in another man. I feel like I'm losing her.



I know this Meagan is gone forever but she'll always remain in my heart this way. RJ fancies the new Meagan, the fifteen-year-old Meagan. Yet, in my heart, she'll always be eight. She'll always be my little girl. I promise to work harder to accept my daughter as she is each day, and to rejoice in her journey from child to woman.

I'm sorry I painted such a horrible picture of RJ. After talking to him and receiving his quiet compassion, I will tell you that he's precisely the kind of man I'd choose for my daughter.

Too bad it took such a painful event to open my eyes.

***