The Day Has Come

“Know this, live by this: all things pass, all sadness heals, and all moment’s are lived once. No matter who you are and what you’ve done.” Author: r.m. drake

I can’t believe I’m writing these words

Tomorrow I’m going to see my daughter.

It’s been six years. Almost to the day.

Six years ago this nightmare began. Six years of grief, questions, loss, shock and looking inward. Wondering how she is. How is my sweet grandson? Missing our relationship. Missing the conversations I wanted to have with her. Missing her wedding. Birthdays that passed quietly.

Missing her.

And now…tomorrow, I will see her for the first time. I will be in the same room with her. I have so much to say and so many questions? Will I be able to say it? What if I say too much? Maybe it will be awkward. Maybe we’ll cry. I don’t know. And honestly, I’m afraid to imagine it too much. I don’t want to have any expectations. I just want to be in the moment and meet her wherever she is. I can’t wait to just see her face…

I’m scared.

Not just nervous. Scared..

My stomach is in tangles. I kind of want to freeze time. I’ve waited so long, and now I have tomorrow with her. I haven’t had a tomorrow with my daughter in six years. What if I screw this up or say the wrong thing? What if she remembers why she left and carries residual resentment towards me ….and then she leaves again? Will my heart be able to take it? I’m not sure.

I’m walking into a moment that might heal, or might reopen. I don’t know.

The only thing I know for certain, is that my girl is here in Nashville and she wants to see me tomorrow. And I am going to show up for her - for both of us.

I’ve used this space to share my journey with other parents who know this kind of loss. I’ve been completely raw sharing how estrangement rearranges your entire world. Everything you thought you were sure of no longer exists. Ive shared my journey of self reflection and introspection - through my darkest times when I felt completely lost and hopeless. I guess I’m writing tonight because for the first time I am full of hope. Quiet, patient, and humble hope. When our estrangement began I couldn’t imagine her being absent from my life for even a few months. I remember reading other stories from parents who had been estranged for years and I thought “no way”…. As months turned to years, I had to accept that she was gone and realize that she may never decide to come back. Ambiguous grief. Prolonged grief. It changes you. And now, after six years, there is tomorrow.

To you I say, Keep waiting. There is always hope. Quiet, patient, humble hope. It is possible to carry grief and hope at the same time.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

But for now, please just hold a little space for me. For her. For whatever tomorrow brings.