I know I keep coming back to this, but it weighs heavy. My daughter ran away from home. It was in the middle of the night. I suffer from a debilitating back disease and sometimes I have to call for help from my bed. This night it was 4am. I am writing this exactly as it happened. This is exactly what I felt. My son came to help me that night. It didn’t take long, a pain pill, some water and some repositioning. He walked out of my room and came yelling back. He had checked his phone and found this missive from my daughter. She was leaving our home to go live with her boyfriend at his family’s home. Done. Just like that. No goodbyes. No explanations. And no last hug. Just you won’t do any longer.
It broke me. Obviously, it tore me apart. But right now I want to unpack just what it did to my son. This is the man in her life who practically raised her. They were best friends. She would always say, “When I get married, I want you to walk me down the aisle.” All of that was gone, now. My son and I sat down in our den and cried. We knew where she was. If I tried hard enough, I could find the asshole’s address. But to what end?
I have tried to tell her the damage she’s done. But there’s nothing there, at least no one I used to know. When she was little, we called her by a nickname; it suited her. Once she started dating this guy, she wanted to be called by her full name. sometimes, this is how I put it into perspective: this new, changed person killed my little girl. I can’t find a trace.
This past weekend we got into a fight about how she was treating her grandparents. It was a complete waste of time. I had forgotten just who it was I was talking to. I forgot where I stood. I don’t think I will make that mistake again.