The Saga of Christina – Finding Herself - Finding Family

Episode 15 and a half – Finding out Dan is a fine man

The current mindset of the writer is verging on morose. Blindsided by a disloyal husband, when I swore for decades I’d never marry, yet was stupid enough to over ride that bit of wisdom to immediately be kicked in the teeth for it, within weeks of the override. However, having been given my walking papers, I am now wild and free, on the street, after calling him on his dishonesty backfired and instead of begging for forgiveness, the unfortunate soul told me to get the hell out.

With 40+ years of Army under his belt and all the resultant Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome on top of it, he is due to retire out. The counselor at the Military Family Resource Centre (MFRC) told me its common for the ‘member’ to act irrationally, even become dangerous. Well, my husband is as irrational as they come now, and I’ve been told that since he returned from 2 months away on assignment elsewhere, on Sunday, I should steer clear of him and find other places to stay until calmer heads prevail.

So, since I’m the one that is feeling like I’ve just had open heart surgery as an outpatient, I am honouring myself while I wait for him to clear out for a few days so I can pack, by spending  time with the people in my life who are important to me. Since I am being informed that I am losing my vehicle as well, I am making the most of my time as a set adrift soul by travelling between the homes of my various children and friends who need me themselves, or who are there for me.

The first night, I was caught in a huge traffic jam for hours and wound up driving past an accident scene where folks were having a worse day than I. And between leaving for the highway and arriving at my destination, my hostess informed me that her beloved dog, Serena, had a stroke and had to be put down before I got there. Did we ever need each other to get through that night!

The second night, was spent on Saltspring, where a loving daughter held me as I cried and who bolstered me with promises of help, of a place to stay to get through the next day. Grace reassured me, talked me down off the mountaintop of doom and gloom as that was all I could feel, my sails ripped from my masts, my hull smashed out from under me. She reminded me that I’d been trying to lose weight and that I’d lost a good 198 lbs.

The third night was spent in the company of Avona and her sister Lynda, a single mom with two cute and cantankerous little boys. It was so lovely to be able to stay on the couch and hear the sounds of a normal little family in their mundane day to day routines. I got lots of hugs, spent some one on one time with Avona, getting more and more grounded by the hug, and the next day, started the decision of where to go by sunset.

At the risk of being fragile to a son who doesn't understand what his mom is up against, I bit the bullet and headed up to Qualicum Bay to spend a day with my son, Dan. I didn’t know what to expect, but Grace had said that she and Dan had been talking about me and he was looking forward to seeing me up his way for a visit. With Mr. WronG bowing out, he had become the androcentric male of the family and I wanted time with him, in spite of the risk of being misunderstood or having my feelings tramped upon, as he had been famous for, in years previous as he was growing up.

 When I got there we texted a bit about how to get to a local rock quarry where there is no traffic and I was pretty safe to camp. He wasn’t able to have a house guest because he was couch surfing up there himself, staying with his best friend while there was some animal sitting for him to do so the next best thing was to help me set up a camp nearby. I was hesitant and slightly fearful. The quarry was vast and multilayered and overgrown. In my sad shape, I felt all the fear and anguish I’d ever felt as a 13 year old girl, thrown out on the street by her insane mother all over again, so disappointed in myself that at 54, I was in no better shape, but out on the street again, looking at houses where people had beds they knew they were getting to in a little while.  I cried my heart out with Dan . He’d ridden out from the house nearby on his dirtbike and brought along a beautiful spaghetti dinner and a bag with some cherries and a golden kiwi. Then he said something that just made me cry all over again, but this time out of appreciation of the love of my son. He said ‘Mom, I’ll set up your tent and air mattress for you. We’ll park the Ford this way and put the tent over there and between the ditch and the gully you’ll be safely hemmed in with the fire on the other side. Then after he set up the tent, he rounded up round firestones, made a lovely small fire and bushwacked to find more wood, using the light of his Iphone.

The thing that really got me though, when he said that he would help me get set up was ‘Mom, I’ll stay with you as long as you want, and I won’t leave until you fall asleep, and I’ll go to the house and set the alarm and bring you coffee at 7:00 in the morning.’

And he did. We had a beautiful fire. I sat on the minibike like a queen as he built the fire up over and over and we talked. He set up his ipod with nice music and we watched the fire and he helped me ground, helped me process, helped me grieve. I could have written my intentions on a slip of paper and set it ablaze, but there are other fires where I can attend to the necessary healing rituals to move me past this, as is the way of my people. But this time, I was just happy to be alone in that cleared out, overgrown rock quarry, with my 25 year old beautiful, loving son. Finally, I told him I was exhausted. Hadn't slept much in days, spending most of the night staring at dark ceilings looking for some sign of light. Dan then crawled into the tent, just like old times, and asked for a back scratch, just like old times, and I did just like old times. After a while, we talked some more and then I told him it was okay for him to go. He slipped out of the tent, zipped me in, and walked the minibike up the hill so that he wasn’t too noisy leaving. When did my holy terror become so thoughtful? Then in a little while, my cell phone buzzed from under my pillow, a text had arrived. “Made it home safe, Mom. Love you.”

Today, we had breakfast, I took him to a job interview and we had some sushi for lunch. We went dutch and it was the first meal I’d eaten since Thursday’s disastrous news killed my appetite. We went back to where he is staying and he fixed the duct tape on the roof, filled my water bottles and stocked me up with ice. As I sat there, wondering where I would go tonight, he said ‘Why don’t you go to see Grace again?’ to which I replied, ‘Because I don’t want to spend another $42.” And he handed me $20, saying “Now you only need $22.”

I can’t help feeling like this is the gift that is coming out of this spiritual experience that is pushing all my buttons of worthlessness and abandonment. I have splendid, healthy, capable adults for children who love me. I also can’t help but feel that somewhere in the twisted recesses of the mind of a man who claimed he loved me one day, and didn’t the next, there is a soupcon of jealousy motivating his resentment, because now that he’s shot himself in the foot and run off the only person who knows him better than anyone, he doesn’t have this kind of genuine, unconditional love in his life at all.

“Mom, I’ll stay here with you until you fall asleep. And I’ll even bring you coffee the way you like it in the morning.”

I may be homeless and feeling lost, but if I continue to take things day by day, I know I will wade through  this mire of unknowns and I will emerge on the other side with an intact self esteem, and dare I say, be even better, even more independent, than I have ever been before.

If only I hadn’t gotten that job and hadn’t discovered that stuff on WronG’s laptop, I know now, I wouldn’t be so proud of my children and friends.

Silver linings… bathing me in their golden light. I am healing.

I hope, in my heart of hearts, that the catalyst to all this does serious healing too.