The saddest thing, by far, about this relationship ending is that it hasn’t left just one hole. It’s left three.
TWD’s youngest accidentally took a pair of my jeans when flying home after the holidays. There was some confusion with the laundry and well… teenagers are easily confused.
I don’t actually care about the jeans or the fact that I’ll never get them back now. What I care about is that fact that I’m not going to be there when TWD’s kids graduate from high school, that I’m not going to get to see prom pictures, that I’m not going to know if they end up becoming authors or veterinarians or video game designers.
I was looking forward to going on college visits with them and helping them edit their entrance essays. I was going to be the cool stepmom who sent them awesome care packages because it wasn’t all that long ago that she was in college herself, and secretly, because I knew it would make their father happy, I was going to work my hardest to convince them to go to college on the east coast.
But now I’ll never know. I’m shut out of their father’s life and out of necessity shut out of theirs.
I know I wasn’t always the most enthusiastic about them. I know there were awkward moments, there were jealous moment, there were moments when I wished they were more like me and less like their father. But there were also amazing moments. Moments when we laughed and laughed and laughed. Moments when I realized, if only just for an instant, that it wasn’t all about me.
I’m going to miss them.
I’ve been through break ups before. I know roughly how long it will take me to get over their father (give or take a few unprecedented variables) but I’ve never been through this before. I can’t help but wonder how long it will take me to get over them. Will I ever stop wondering what they’re up to? Ever stop hoping they’re okay? That they’re keeping their grades up so they’ll get into good schools? That they’re getting along with their younger siblings?
Heck, I was going to take them shopping to decorate their rooms in “our” new house!
I’ve been wearing makeup every day since the breakup to keep myself from downward spiraling into a hot mess of pajamas-all-day-and-raw-cookie-dough-for-every-meal. But I shouldn’t have bothered today because today was the day I wrote them each a letter to say goodbye and my mascara is now every place except my eyelashes.