Emma stabs daddy’s pictures/end of 2013

I made the mistake of walking out with momma to the store to buy a Super Big Gulp. I had pictures I had printed splattered all over the walls only to return to the debris of what was left.

“With a tired knife you slashed my daddy’s legacy. What my daddy was proud of, what he created to the last paintings he gave me before his death. He bequeathed to me that last slice of his life. You knew Emma my daddy died only last month. You saw me peel myself until there was nothing left but a stain of blood. Did you think to breathe, to pray, until the violent urge passed?

You pillaged with your pirate heart with your hook, you sliced all my dead daddy’s pictures. You were a calloused brute, sacrificing my heart to your selfish rage, to the ragged “Id”. I struggle to forgive you, you exhumed your grandpa’s body, to put it in your words, “to devastate me” all over again to terrify me, you severed me from my childhood, impaled reducing it to spit. You have committed a crime, throwing the “good ol’ days” into a pyre taking the scissors to deliberately wound trust to butcher me as an animal leaving me to rot in the fields to glorify the flies, butchering, clubbing my grief, my overpowering anguish. How can things ever be the same between us? Something as hard as death stands as a warrior between us.

I am dumbfounded, mute, branded by your cruelty. Are you a wild animal running through the jungles with naked emotion? Lying to yourself that you are a feral child nursed by wolves uncivilized a cyclone, a shark, a snake with fangs to poison me with hatred. What is especially savage is taking what is sacred to another without regard or thought. I don’t feel sorry for you the excuses you always us, “I am bipolar”. Does it excuse your barbarism, your inhumanity? It justifies everything. Some things cannot be justified, forgiven or excused, the wounds that had healed you graffitied the scars. My daddy is dead, you knew that when you stripped his face away. “Are you proud?” If I am not your mother, than who am I? A dog in the street something you crushed out of boredom for years? I kept the pictures they were my treasure my parent’s wedding picture, our family pictures I will never be that young you threw the pieces into the wind the final pieces of my life and scattered them a smug contentment you sat in the trash you created out of my memories you riddled me with bullets.”

I took Emma to the Pact unit and she was hospitalized for a few days. I have forgiven her. She told me she did it because of her grief.

________________________________________________________

“Fear not, for I have redeemed you;

I have called you by your name;

You are Mine.

When you pass through the rivers, I will

Be with you;

And through the rivers they shall not

Overflow you.

When you walk through the fire you shall

Not be burned.

Nor shall the flame scorch you.

For I am the Lord your God.”

(Isaiah 43:1-3)