On Sunday, Labor Day, someone stole $300.00 out of my Dads wallet. The whole family was there. Lana was there. The next day was when Lana began to come unglued. We have been finding little bits and pieces of the money, a twenty here, two twenties there, ever since. Lana in her misguided thinking put some of it in my wallet, some of it in a gift card, which she gave to me, some of it in my car, and we haven't found the rest yet.My Mom, told me today, she doesn't want Lana back at her house. And if she could she would prosecute her~ I wrote this in my journal today:

What is the feeling that comes over you 
when you realize you are completely on your own?  
A feeling of sick density, 
a heaviness, a weight, a fear, 
convoluted inertia.  
Peril and aloneness.  

That your decision has forever altered your relationships 
with everyone who ever knew you.  
No one sees you the same way from this point on. 
 The perception that you were in control of your life, 
that you knew what you were doing, 
that you were on top, managing, 
is now replaced by perceptions that you are failing, 
you have made a big mistake, 
you will never be the same person, 
your life is over, 
you have no where to go,
 no one understands what you are doing.

When you are told by those who love you, 
who want to protect you, 
want to see only whets best for you, 
that you are being hurt beyond repair 
and it is them or her.  
What do you say?  
how do you feel?  
what do you do?

Don't feel bad for me, 
I am doing what I was taught, 
I am loving, nurturing, caring for, being responsible.  
I am putting into action all the commandments from Moses, 
all the volumes of Dr.Spock, MD, 
all the books on behavioral health and psychology, 
parenting magazines, 
everything everyone told me on how to be a good parent, 
a good person, and more.  
Much more.  
So much more.

For where I go, I must break all the rules, 
ignore all the commandments, 
exclude the parenting magazines, 
refute the precepts of discipline and structure.

My child does not fit these molds, 
for everything written that is bad, 
she does.  
Without will, 
without judgment, 
without premeditation, 
without conscience.

But then in a moment of lucidity, 
a stolen moment of reality, 
she is good, 
and loving and caring, 
and logical, and smart, 
and willing to be better.  
And cognizant of her misguided actions and thoughts.  
And wants to be the child she knows you want her to be.

But you are alone in this, 
not many will walk this walk with you.  
It is your 40 days and 40 nights.  

by CE, September 9, 2003
Grieving the Loss of the Dream