The door slammed. The voice in virulent vitriol faded as he stepped into his future.
The months of argument and violence were now behind him. His departure was not a smooth take off, not a calm embarking but rather a departure of violent aggression as his intentions were mad clear.
In the previous months even years things had come to a head. The violent outburst had come more often, the children cringing in bedrooms was apparent and his need to bring it all to an end as peacefully as he could for fear of more extreme outcomes being realised.
The attraction they both felt in the early years had long faded. Now there was a combative interaction each evening. Usually they fought over money and his poor showing as a husband and provider.
He had been away on the weekend with one of the boys at a sporting event. On the way home he decided he would drop his son off and then leave.
He knew he could go to his sisters and it was there he made his stand. He called his older children and told them he was leaving their mother. They agreed it was a good thing and why hadn’t he done it earlier.
Over the next few days he told all his children and arranged a place to live.
It was to be a rocky passage for him. Departing was one thing surviving the rocky choppy seas that were before him would be another.
There would be days when the sailing would be almost life threatening, when after the tears of his younger children settled the access to them would be barred on every occasion.
Trying to be the father he knew he was he tried to see his kids, invited them for dinner and organised weekend outings.
Initially the young ones were happy to spend time with him but when it became apparent to them that such outings were to be met with their mother’s vitriol they re-thought that idea.
It became impossible for them to spend time with him as their mother would subject them to a third degree interrogation about the evening and about what was said.
But every journey has its moments and he persevered never losing sight of who he was and how much they needed him.
There were days when his journey was like striding against the strongest tide, when nothing seemed to go his way. But he never lost sight of his goal. A life of freedom, a life for himself and a life where his children knew they could rely on him.
It took him a lot of years from his moment of departure to feel he was at peace with his past. He knew you didn’t forget but you didn’t let it run your life.
In time, with his departure, still fresh in his mind he grew into the man he was. A man whose biggest and best decision was to depart a life that would have killed him by now.
He settled down at his back fence and looked at what he called his ‘ocean’ view and was pleased he departed when he did.
Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2016/04/14/tale-weaver-61-departure/
Morpethroad 