Daily Life, Writer's Blog

Opening up old wounds…

I received a letter in the post this morning from the Child Support Agency. Nothing strange there you may think, but my children are now in their late twenties.

My ex-husband was an alcoholic bully, even tempered and ok when he was sober but nasty and aggressive when he had sunk a few pints. We eventually divorced after one too many bruises and discoveries of him urinating in our six year old daughter’s wardrobe (for example) as she slept.

He was given numerous chances to change. When he was sober I begged him to get help, to save our marriage for the sake of our three beautiful children. Of course, I never broached the subject if a beer had passed his lips. Oh no. I kept quiet and as far out of the way as possible at those times.

The divorce was a bit of a farce. He would not allow me a divorce unless I admitted to being the guilty one. I took another on the chin, and stated I wanted the divorce and he was not at fault. He was more concerned at what outsiders may think than trying to save what could have been a good marriage. He fought hard when it came down to it. Not for custody of his children, but for material items such as the new Dyson we had recently purchased. His priorities were all materialistic. His children didn’t matter.

He had always frightened me just a little as a violent drunk but, when I found rented accommodation for myself and my little ones, he took to sitting outside in his car and simply watching the house late at night. I was always on the alert for a knock at the door which often never came. He just watched, waiting for who knows what.

Eventually, he asked if he could see the children and, when he secured himself a flat around the corner, requested they stay the night with him. He promised he wouldn’t have a drink when they were with him and I was happy for them to see him. They needed their father and maybe the time had come for him to take responsibility.

After a few months of weekend visits, my daughter told me she wanted to stay at home with me. She was eight years old and clearly upset. She cried lots and I told her she didn’t have to visit that week. My sons both went happily on their way and my daughter stayed with me.

A few weeks passed and one of my sons also said he didn’t want to visit and my daughter was still adamant she wanted to stay home. So, he took one of our sons and the other two remained behind with me. Within two hours he was back at my door with a sobbing little boy who didn’t want to stay with him on his own. This went on for a few weeks until none of the children wanted to go with him and they didn’t even want to talk to him at the door.

I didn’t quiz them too hard as I didn’t want to upset them but eventually, one morning at breakfast my daughter asked me why Daddy slept so much. Probing further, she had woken up in the night to find him as good as comatose (she couldnt wake him up and she was scared) and there were lots of cans on the floor. He was drunk when she had woken up from a bad dream and he had not been lucid enough to comfort her. This prompted stories from my boys who told me their daddy wouldn’t play with them when they visited him. He sat in front of the TV while they were in their rooms with some toys. They all sounded so sad when they relayed this to me.

Time passed, and the CSA became involved. I was awarded a small sum of money each week to help with raising my three children. I had a part time job which fit around their school but it didn’t pay much.

The child support money never came. He never paid me one penny and eventually he lost his job for being drunk at the wheel the morning after. As a financial consultant he had no means of travelling for work when they took away his drivers license. The debt, his debt, built up and the years passed by. I supported my children with part time work and benefits until they were old enough for me to take a full time job.

I received a letter from the CSA every month and then every six months to say that, even though he owed me well over £6000, he was not working and they had awarded me £0.00 for each child. The £6000 would have been helpful, of course, but I managed as best I could.

My parents and sometimes his parents, helped with clothes and little food parcels and gave the children pocket money but it felt wrong that he didn’t want to help support his children at all. The children received a birthday card from him each year with a few pounds inside but the handwriting was his mother’s. By this stage the children had not seen him for a few years and, as they grew up, the situation never changed. I suggested supervised visits but he was not interested and, in the end, aware that he was still a drunk, I gave up trying.

At the age of fifty he died as a result of his excessive drinking and the children’s feelings were really put to the test. There had always been the chance that he would fight to see them and seek help for his alcoholism but now there was no chance and they had never even known him. It was sad for those reasons and I felt so badly for them as they didn’t really know what or how to feel.

In the meantime we later discovered that his brother had ‘helped’ him to rewrite his will leaving his life insurance and any monies to his own daughter, my niece, and nothing to my children. He had always promised me, even calling my parents drunkenly one Christmas day to reiterate the fact, that there were a few thousand pounds for them when he died to make up for not being there when he was alive. It was unbelievable that he had changed his will in this way and his own children, whom he had abandoned and not supported over the years, were left with nothing.

So, today, as I opened the letter from the child support agency, I held my breath as I read the words that they had reviewed my case. Certain that there would be a few thousand pounds to share between my children now they had recovered what was rightly theirs, I read on.

The CSA were informing me not that they had recovered the money owed but that they were, after all these years, writing off my unpaid child maintenance as my ex husband had passed away.

Letting go of my held breath, I sighed, resigned to the fact that, even after death, he had been able to deal one more kick in the teeth to his children and that hurts way more than any of his physical violence ever could.

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Kite flying, Poem, Writer's Blog

Flight of the Kite

I cannot lie – I took this idea from a fellow poet as I loved the shape of some of her poems. Thank you for the inspiration, Kim from Writing In North Norfolk.

This is it in word format because my mobile formatting makes a mess of it..

Flight of the Kite

 

                                                              A

                                                            Kite

                                                       Flying High

                                                 Soaring in clouds

                                          A break in the blue sky

                                       Silently diving and swooping

                                     Tension on line, a dead stillness

                               Settling, its rhythm gentle, smooth,

                            Bobbing at the end of the line, just waits,

                        A pull, a twist of the wrist, send it diving low,

                          A wrist flick, a jerk, paint the sky with loops,

                            Repeat, making patterns, response fast,

                               Buzz from the line, hearing the winds,

                                  Slow the descent, landing begins,

                                     Gently, to grass, let it rest now,

                                          Its flight over, now ended,

                                             A long tail follows lazily,

                                                    Fluttering, it falls,

                                                      Flight doomed

                                                              Now folds,

                                                             Into

                                                               Its

                                                           Holdall.

                                                            Day Over

                                                                  A

                                                                    N

                                                                      O

                                                                        T

                                                                          H

                                                                            E

                                                                              R

                                                                                 *

                                                                                    W

                                                                                        I

                                                                                         L

                                                                                            L

                                                                                              *

                                                                                                 C

                                                                                                    O

                                                                                                        M

                                                                                                              E

                                                                                                                 *

                                                                                                                      S

                                                                                                                        O

                                                                                                                           O

                                                                                                                               N

                                                                                                                           **

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Daily Life, Poem, Writer's Blog

Remember

Remember, now, the laughter,
As we ran down to the sea,
Remember how we rolled down hills,
How carefree, then, we used to be.
***
Remember, now, the children,
How much love we had to give,
Remember, they still need your love,
There’s so much life you’ve yet to live.
***
Remember when you told me,
Forever, we would be,
Remember how we promised, then,
It would just be you and me.
***
Remember, now that life has changed,
I’ve had to leave too soon,
Remember, when you’re searching,
I’m the twinkle just beyond the moon.
***

Writer's Blog

Heaven’s Door

The time has come for me to leave,

I had to go away,

I feel your strength, to let me go,

I could not last another day.

***

I want you to remember,

To feel me by your side,

To know that though you can’t see me,

I’ll wander far and wide.

***

I’ll come and visit often,

Will watch you as you sleep,

Will hold your hand when times are tough,

Brush away the tears you weep.

***

And when you’re good and ready,

To face what lies beyond,

I’ll leave you to resume your life,

I will not linger on.

***

You’ll laugh aloud with someone new,

And know it will please me,

To see that you are moving on,

Heaven’s door will open to receive me.

***

Daily Life, Poem, Writer's Blog

Life’s Worth?

When kindness is mistaken for weakness,

When faced with a choice at your door,

When sadness comes knocking, the ones you must face,

Are those you thought worth living for.

***

You’ve given your all, when you were so alone,

Faced up to the wolf before death,

Foresaken so much just to clothe them and feed,

You’d offer your very last breath.

***

But with cards on the table, however they fall,

And given the chance to make right,

They’ve risen above all that paved them their way,

Uncaring, they’ll bid you goodnight.

***

You’re no more than some words which are written,

Across greetings cards, now, when they come,

No meaning, not heartfelt, out of habit inscribed,

The feeling less deep than is numb.

***

So when all’s been and gone your job’s done now,

The choices they make are their own,

You’ve done but your best, yet it’s not good enough,

For in the end, you’re always alone.

***

Writer's Blog

Kite

We do love a kite in our family.

writing in north norfolk

caught by the wind
entangled in a kite’s tail
a child’s laughter

Kim M. Russell, 5th April 2019

Related imageImage found on Wikipedia

My response to Carpe Diem #1641 a modern kigo: Kite

In a new episode, we have another modern kigo from Jane Reichhold’s Dictionary of Haiku.

watercolor class
the painted blue sky
becomes a kite

flying a kite
gulls above the beach stare
at the old couple

Jane Reichhold

View original post

Daily Life, Work, Writer's Blog

The IT Manager

I am the girl who you hope not to see,

Life can be dull when you work in IT,

If I’m at your door, there’s surely been strife,

Something’s not working, you can bet on your life.

Girl Working on a Computer

If I’m hovering nearby, then a system has crashed,

A workstation’s broken, your hopes will be dashed,

All thoughts of a good day, where your work gets ahead,

Will fly from the window, your desk you may dread.

***

If I am there now and the technician’s been by,

And still nothing’s working, my face may belie,

May give you a hint of the depth of the bad,

When I return with a smile, then you’re sure to be glad.

Girl Working on a Computer

For if all is well, all is good behind the scenes,

The servers are serving, most definitely means,

You have nothing to fear, your work will surely get done,

If I’ve walked away you can be sure problems are none.

***

For I am the girl, in her office resides,

Answering issues, and keeping an eye,

Certain that errors we can mostly contain,

If my presence is needed, of your life I’m a bane.

Girl Working on a Computer

For most everyday, the technician’s you’ll see,

Out and about fixing issues, you’ll not see me,

But don’t think I’m not working as I’m holding the reins,

Hoping to prevent you from suffering IT pains.

***