Independence Day

12 years ago today, right about this very moment, I was sitting on the deck at my house in Jasper, Oregon, making the decision to leave my fiance.  A great decision, but so hard.

My Mom had called to wish us a Happy 4th and when she asked me how The Fiance was, I paused for a moment and then said "He's horrible.  He is a miserable person.  He's terrible.  I cannot marry him."  This was somewhat of a shock to her because up until that point I had pretended to all that everything was wonderful in our sucky sucky life. 

That night I drove around in my Jeep and found myself in this little town with a great 4th of July celebration.  Families with picnic baskets going to watch the fireworks.  This was what I wanted.  A simple small-town existence.  Not this emotional, physical, financial, drug-infused mess.

After that phone call with my Mom, I called my brother and asked if I could come to visit.  He and his wife had a 6 month old baby and a dog that was about to be put down.  I made it to his house in time to go with him to the Vet and be with Gracey B. Allblack as she passed on.  We both cried so much her head was wet with our tears.  We went home and cried more.  I told him every horrible thing The Fiance had done and said to me and I knew that by telling my Brother all of that I could never go back.  I would be too embarrassed and that was what kept me from ever backing out of leaving.

I secretly found a new job in Portland.  I packed my things away and put more of his things out so the house didn't look empty because I didn't want my leaving to be such a big change.  I had to say goodbye to his two little girls.  Two girls who were going to be my only children.  I was going to be their Step-Mom and I was letting them down.  I was leaving them behind with a Piece of Shit for a Father.  They still had their Mom, but I worried about them.  I stayed longer than I should have because of them.  They were 7 and 5 and I gave them each a special gift.  They cried and cried.  Their Mom cried.  I cried.  For days and days I cried. 

The guilt I felt for weeks finally went away and the anger came.  Anger at myself for sticking myself in the situation.  Anger that I let someone say and do things to me that should not be done to another person one "cares" about.

I haven't really thought about that day much in these last twelve years.  I don't know why it's in my head today.  We spent the day with my In-laws and came back to our home town just as the local parade was ending.  In an hour and a half, we'll be able to sit on the lawn and watch the fireworks.  I got the simple, small-town existence I wanted and I love every bit of it.