by Homeless T
Most nights after I've crawled into an upper bunk of the closet-sized room I share with three other aging, flatulent, homeless men--but before my 200 milligrams of Seroquel has put me down--I find myself buzzing within a bleak, preconscious mental space that is busily compiling all I have lost and have not learned, whether I will to consider it or not.
This twilight state shrouds my soul in oppression. Sadness--despair--impotence---overtake me, producing sensations similar to what others feel when they've lost someone dear to them to death: anger, denial, and frustration that I am powerless to bargain with Fate. In the end I must resign myself to a new role as a non-person, heartbroken yet utterly forgotten--like an insect in throes of dying, insignificant as a housefly. Of course, these words are a lot of dramatic piffle, but you can imagine.
But thank God, I've lost none of my best-loved ones to death. What was temporarily stolen was my relationship with my children, and my stature among long-standing friends and colleagues. Thanks to the industry of a brilliant horror writer, I found myself rewritten as a villain, and the new role had even me going for a while. But . . .
I was never violent with their mother--quite the opposite, she was fond of throwing and breaking heavy objects over my head, which stupidly I tolerated--but when she learned of the trumped-up offense against me (of injuring a policeman in April of 2007), she threw together a very effective "Violent-T" promotion, and her gullible attorney filed for the family's protection, ex parte against me, resulting in my ban from the family home. I wasn't invited to the hearing because such proceedings ban if a party 'provides imminent physical danger' to another. By the way, I supposedly opened a can of whip-ass on three 250-pound officers of the law. You know what a palooka I am.
I've never been dangerous to anybody, and abhor violence. This little lie was deeply dishonest, for I have never been dangerous to anybody (but myself, on occasion). Nonetheless, in December of 2009, the judge made permanent my ban from the family home in his Order, Judgment, and Decree that ended our marriage. Nor may I telephone or even speak directly to the alleged protected person, a real crock of cold injustice.
My kids must've felt I no longer loved them, or even think about them. This notion rips my heart in twain, and my brain still crumbles from law that authorized her to guard all of our former life like the proverbial dog in the manger--useless for anything but to deny accommodation to me.
I've never been dangerous to anybody, and abhor violence. This little lie was deeply dishonest, for I have never been dangerous to anybody (but myself, on occasion). Nonetheless, in December of 2009, the judge made permanent my ban from the family home in his Order, Judgment, and Decree that ended our marriage. Nor may I telephone or even speak directly to the alleged protected person, a real crock of cold injustice.
My kids must've felt I no longer loved them, or even think about them. This notion rips my heart in twain, and my brain still crumbles from law that authorized her to guard all of our former life like the proverbial dog in the manger--useless for anything but to deny accommodation to me.
If any of my children should read this, I plead now: realize that I miss you terribly; and when somehow, someway--by the grace of God, the Holy Virgin, or Lucifer--I get back on my feet, we will reacquaint ourselves with the civility, accomplishment, and family love you all deserve. I admire all of you--each vastly superior to your dad in some important way. You have grown into attractive, intelligent, and decent people.
I empathize with how your hearts must regard me now--at a comfortless arms-length. You must feel bewildered at best, and weary, weary of the flash-flooding poison at the mere mention of my name. Your mom is a woman of talent and power, both of which demand respect. She remakes the world in her image; but on our journey, she lost her faith in her partner.
I'm sorry guys, so sorry. I love you all more than you can know. I hurt over my lost Pater Familias role--and from having been tumbled into a bleak, wandering state. None of us can turn back, but please, let's try to make the best of what remains. You all have my unconditional love and support, and should ever I regain the needed wherewithal--I'm taking the whole family on a trip to Boblo!
Affectionately yours forever,
Tom Tasseff
And here's wisdom from the old geezer--this bit of common sense addressed to disengaging spouses, and any estranging couples who might be a-lurking:
Please don't work to poison the minds of your children against a former spouse. The pain that some work so doggedly to inflict, one upon the other, by any means possible--including badmouthing of the former partner, and hyperbolizing hurt to gain the sympathy of others--is too blackhearted to succeed for long. Karma will not abide undeserved wounds to go blameless.
The children you try so hard to disaffect eventually will understand that something important has been taken from them; and also, in time, that you chose to disfigure their paternity and cast it like waste into the gutter--for reasons of your insatiable anger, hatred, and spite--all of which, ironically, began as love . . . of some sort.
Should your effort to whip up grief ever succeed, the triumph will be hollow. It is the innocent family members who must bear the untruth you spin--not only concerning the absent parent, but to a degree, the distorted reflections of themselves. Children are, after all, half you and half me.
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