The judge gave Will temporary custody of both of my boys today. He talked to the boys and read the affidavits from both sides of the fence.
And he gave my boys up to Will. They’ll live in an RV with their father.
I don’t understand. I made my attorney repeat it to me a hundred times. It was like my brain wasn’t working. I didn’t even hear the judge after he said “Primary custody goes to Will…” Didn’t hear a word.
It’s not over. This was “only” a temporary custody hearing. But how likely is it for the judge to change his mind?
It doesn’t matter that the boys have seen Will verbally abuse me, physically abuse me, and possibly intuitively know he mentally and emotionally abused me because Will’s done the same to them. It doesn’t matter that we’ve dealt with Will’s alcoholism and anger as best we could. It doesn’t matter that I am the primary caregiver. Nothing matters. Nothing makes sense. Nothing is real.
I have all kinds of reasons for why the judge may have made this decision today. But you know what? I think it boils down to “Your mother is a lunatic. Your father is sane. You’re better off with the sane one.” I think I’ve lost my job as primary caregiver to my children. I think the fat lady sung today. I think it’s over.
After court, I brought Eddie home so we could pack his things. I was heartbroken, but I did pretty well overall. Yes, I cried with Eddie. It is hard acting stoic when my child is crying.
After we collected ourselves, we went about the business of packing his bags. I hated every second of it, but I got through it matter-of-factly. “Isn’t this shirt too small? … I don’t think this one is good for school, do you want to leave it here? … How about these boxers? … ”
Around 4, I called Will to tell him not to come to the house, that I would take Eddie to him. I had forgotten about my class tonight. No, I didn’t want to go to the class. I wanted to come home and cry and die and cry some more. But I had the feeling God wouldn’t take me to heaven because he’s got so much pain in store for me that I have to stay. I think he wants me to suffer.
I yelled at him tonight. I yelled at God. I told him that even HE couldn’t bear the pain of losing his son, that he brought his son back to life so he wouldn’t feel the pain. I know I’m wrong and that plenty of you out there want to correct my bible learnin’. Please resist the urge. I asked why he would ask something of me that he wasn’t willing to do himself.
No answer. I told you, God is not here.
I hope God’s absence in my home means that he’s doubly present with Eddie. And with Marc. I hope God curled up in bed beside Eddie tonight and is whispering “It’s going to be all right. Everything is going to be okay. Sleep, Eddie Boo, tomorrow is a new day.”
Eddie texted me late tonight, “i wanna go home…” with a crying emoticon beside it.
Dammit, how can I respond to that? I want him to come home too. I cried and choked for air. I wrote back anyway. “Hang in there, Eddie boo. It’s going to be all right. I love you and your brother too. Nothing and no space on the earth will EVER change that.”…”All you have to do is live this minute and then the next”…”Then the next.”…”You can do this, Eddie”…”love yourself”…”be strong”…”have faith”…”I love you more than my own life”…”I will do anything and everything in my power to erase your broken heart”…”And make sure you have two parents who you know beyond a shadow of a doubt”…”Are devoted to you”…”And love you”…”Everything will be okay”…”I love you. Dad loves you.”
I hope I am not lying to him. I hope everything will in fact be okay.