8/03/23

Dear O and C,

How’s your summer going?  It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you last.  A lot has happened since our last visit.  I’ve been too emotionally exhausted to write about any of it.  However, I miss you both and because I wish I could talk to you, these letters will have to do. 

Court went well for me.  As you probably know, your mother was asking for complete termination of therapy and any type of contact between us.  I, on the other hand, was simply asking for therapy to resume.  The judge attempted to split the difference and awarded therapy to continue.  However, instead of seeing you once a week, I will now see you every other week.  I think it was a good compromise.  You hate me, and don’t want to see me at all.  I love you, and I want to maintain some type of connection, in hopes that one day we can begin to rebuild our relationship.  So, this plan seems reasonable.

The way I am viewing it is simple.  Imagine our relationship hanging on by the thinnest of threads; barely hanging on, ready to break at any moment.  If the thread snaps, our relationship falls into the depths of hell, never to return again.  If our relationship continues to hold by that thread, then eventually, someday, that thread can grow stronger.  Other threads can be added for support.  And maybe, just maybe, one day, no more thread will be needed in order to support our relationship.  If we put in the work, and each hold up our end of the bargain, maybe we can have a relationship someday, where we just support each other.  That is my hope anyway.  

My expectations are low.  My motivation is low. Heck, even the numbers in my bank account are low due to all of this litigation.  However, I’m not yet ready to throw in the towel.  I’m not yet ready to give up on the two of you.  I’m not ready to give up on us.  And so, I no longer fight; I survive. I survive until surviving is no longer an option.  And should that thread snap, then I promise, I will honor your wishes, and let go forever.  

I want to clear the air on something. C, your mother has claimed in court that the large, open sores covering your body have been caused by me, and the stress of seeing me. This is a lie.  First, that would be impossible. Second, I just looked at photos of you from three years ago.  You have the exact same large, open sores all over your body.  You have had these sores for years.  I’m really not sure how they have gone medically untreated for so long.  I do believe it is a form of neglect on your mother’s part.  I’ve gone back and forth on whether or not to contact CPS regarding the matter.  However, I keep coming to the same conclusion; that even if I did call, my word would mean nothing.  My word would be seen as retaliation, despite the fact that I am genuinely concerned about you and your well-being.  Also, even though CPS is confidential, I fear that your mother would unleash more hell upon me if she was contacted by CPS; whether she suspected me of making the call or not.  Somehow, regardless, it would be my fault, because your mother is not capable of taking any responsibility for anything.  

I recently contacted CF in hopes of setting up our next therapy session, and firming up the new schedule.  However, she has not gotten back to me.  I have not heard from my attorney yet either, which is a little strange.  The court order should have been prepared last week, and forwarded to me.  The fact that it hasn't leads me to believe that once again, your mother has somehow interrupted the process.  I long for a day when we can simply abide by the court orders with no outside interference from your mother.  I know that day will never come.  Unfortunately, the court allows for it. Without an interference free process, the chances of us ever healing our relationship are slim to none.  

So, for now, I remain neither hopeful, nor hopeless; I only remain numb.  Numb to the emotionally draining aspects of it all.  Numb to the financially destroying complexities of it all.  Numb to the ruinous, everlasting, lack of progress upheld by the family court system.  In the end, I will die neither a free man, nor a condemned man; just a man who loved his children, and couldn’t do a damn thing about it.  


Love,

Dad

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