The Show Must Go On

Some dreams you wake from and don’t remember. Others you remember and think WFT? This one is clear, at least the theme is clear to me and it’s no wonder, clearly relates to what I’m feeling right now.

There was a volunteer corps, putting on a show – small scale, just for each other. We had a string of power cords put together for each segment. We had done a run through that went pretty smoothly and we were ready for the live show – the real deal. And Action! That’s when every person wanted to step in and put their own spin on it. Someone adding a segment but couldn’t find the right connection cords, unplugging something that was already finished, interrupting the flow to add their own little impression or personal touch. When we got to the menu board, in the middle of filming someone steps in with a pen and starts changing the prices – we’re having a special, now only ½ of what it was before. Isn’t this exciting, I want to be a part of the show. Absolute mayhem. I stood back amused, as I am now and allowed it. Like I am now.

I was ready for the production in June, when he went home AMA the first time.

I was ready for production in July when I couldn’t stand the thought of being manipulated into moving something (again) hither and yon. Make a fucking decision to live well.

I was ready the day he called that his truck had broken down and he expected me to drop everything I was doing and come. To do what? Push the fucker home? You need a tow truck (which he eventually came to the conclusion on and got one).

I was ready when I got the last call “This is Linda. Your dad…” Is he in the hospital again or did someone find him dead?

I was ready when I left his hospital room, touched his foot and knew this was the last dance (for me at least).

I was ready when I took the morning off and went to the court house to file for his committal.

I have learned however that sometimes I may be ready, but the dance has just begun and you have to allow all the players their part.

Dancers. Dance. (waltz music).

What I have wanted all my life was Daddy. The Daddy I had from birth to about 4, when his precious baby was born. There certainly was room for 2 of us and I have almost always adored my little sister. You play the hand that is dealt. I may not understand why I have experienced the lessons that I have, but I am sure as certain grateful for the knowledge it resulted in by enduring the fire.

It has giving me a quick wit, easy identification system and fast evaluation, solution identification system. I ascertain a situation, weight all the parts and see the best course of action – in relation to every person involved – before most people have recognized the situation. It’s both a blessing and a curse. I have been frustrated by this for years, yet it’s also amusing to me to suggest a solution that is best for everyone, offer the best course of action – and then I am more or less told “we’re going to do this instead”, to which I am obligated to answer OK, let’s try that. When you’re all finished dicking around most often someone makes the suggestion I made months ago as if it were their own idea and blow me off like I was some kind of raving lunatic.

Meanwhile, I’m going to be over here living my life as best I can and taking care of and loving on my child – as a parent is supposed to do.

I allow it. I have even learned that interrupting the flow often delays the process to reach the conclusion I’ve already suggested or put into action. Let’s Dance.

In this instance, as in many, I have become the villain. People have to have something to fight against. I learned long ago it’s a better use of energy to fight FOR something, than to fight against it. He has made a complete mess of things and needs a hand up – which I’ve extended. He’s now the hot potato that nobody wants to crack open and pour butter on. Yet, because he is incapable of accepting the responsibility for what he’s done he has pointed the finger and made me the dirty rotten scoundrel child of his who (shocker) asked the community at large to hold him accountable for his choices. <sigh> “It’s all her fault”. <laughter> Exactly what I was expecting and in almost the same order.

I leave for the beach Friday night. I will be gone for 10 days. My responsibility at this moment is to find a place for Wiley to be while I am gone and to make sure my son and Lily have housing and a little money. I will also be available for the court decision and to pull the trigger if allowed, to get him into therapy/retirement/whatever after the evaluations are complete and a recommendation is made. That is the role I have assumed.

Da da da da da. Dum dum. Dum dum. Dum dum. Shall we waltz?

I hold no ill will for my father. Despite our history. His situation weighs heavily on my heart. I let go of the Daddy dreams a long time ago. I will move mountains to take care of my son.

God is my Father. Jesus is my Savior. He has always provided for my needs. Usually at the last possible second of when I thought I was on the chopping block. And so I wait upon the Lord. Everything is happening in His perfect timing. Amen.


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