struggles

Before my return to Huntsville, Lacy told me she wasn’t happy and was leaving Jeff.  A very sad thing to hear; Jeff and I get along great and I count him as a friend as well as a son-in-law.  Knowing this, the month I planned to stay with them while “in transition” was like walking on eggshells most of the time.  Jeff and I spent a lot of time together looking at houses for me, watching TV, folding laundry, and avoiding the subject.  I didn’t know how to be normal with him, knowing what was coming.  It wasn’t that he hadn’t been told, he just didn’t believe it would actually happen.  I knew it would.

I understand how hard marriage is.  How love for another person can’t always make up for the demons of prior relationships, or growing up in a dysfunctional household.  How a need for trust, respect, consideration, can cause a desire for independence.  How mutual stubbornness can overshadow what brought you together to begin with.  My own marriage was so full of pain that I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, especially my own kids.  There was lots of love in our house, but there were lots of demons also.

The week I moved my belongings from Chicago was the week Lacy moved hers into an apartment.  The convenience of having a big truck was too much to pass up.  She had purchased the few things she needed and arranged delivery in the same week.  I tried to be supportive as she shopped for necessities and got “her own place” set up.  It was hard.

Don’t get me wrong – I want my daughter to be happy.  Truly happy.  Period.  But that happiness coming at the price of another’s pain is not what anyone would want.  I knew Jeff would be terribly hurt, would not understand, would go through all the stages of grief, and would need shoulders to cry on and ears to listen, and I could not be either.  I would have to turn my back to someone I care about very much to support someone I love more than myself.

I can’t decide Lacy’s, or Seth’s, life for them.  I can no longer keep them from crossing the street without looking both ways.  Or eating too much Halloween candy, or climbing too high in the tree.  I can only be there to bandage the scrapes while biting back the “I told you so”.  I can only hope that they learned something from my struggles and their Dad’s and from their own experiences until now.   I can only stand by and pray they make good decisions, that they learn from their pain, that they become better for everything they go through.

Life is hard.  We’re all selfish, and we should be.  The tough part is learning how to be selfish without hurting someone else.  Everything is a matter of give and take, and it’s so much better when the giving and the taking are done willingly and happily.  When there is an equal balance between each.  And when you aren’t just willing to, but want to, put yourself aside for someone else’s happiness.  Without an underlying expectation of reward or return, and without holding it over their head at some future moment.  Look how good I am; look what I have done for you.

At least that's what I imagine a great relationship to be.  Not having had one myself, I could be wrong.