This week was one of those weeks that you dread to watch your child hurt so much, and whatever you tried to do you knew you couldn’t make it better. But at the same time the moment may have been good for her. I might be wrong, but then I’m the kind of person who tries to see the good in every situation.
I took my daughter to a memorial service to say goodbye to someone who was the only one that gave her the idea of what having a father was like. He was the only one who took the time to her when she was hurting, the only one who showed up before she went to the Mental Hospital. Took her to concerts, listened to her. Tried to understand her and often gave advice. It was her karate instructor, who passed away from a heart attack too young at the age of 41.
Breaking the news to her was difficult. Jenny was at a friends house spending the night when I found out. I texted her to see when she was coming home the next day because we needed to talk. She called to try to find out what was wrong, and I assured her she wasn’t in trouble, but it wasn’t something I thought was good to talk about on the phone.
After a long pause, she said, “Jorden passed didn’t he?” I remember the hair on my arms standing up and thinking, “How the hell did she know?” Quickly she got off the phone before I could respond and she said, “Okay” and hung up.
Jenny insisted on wanting to go to the memorial service, but being the protective mother that I am, looking for any and all excuses for her not to go. She got uptight with me, and said: “I have to go.” I knew what that meant. She never got to know her birth father. Never even had the chance to grieve for him when he died. I couldn’t take this away from her no matter how much I wanted to. So I agreed to take her, and she insisted on even speaking a few words at the service.
Walking into the funeral home we were greeted by the co owner. She hugged Jenny first and broke down. The hurt in her eyes caused all of us to become emotional. It was obvious both owners had a great relationship.
Jenny was the first to speak. I was worried how she would do and my hands were full with Pooh, not with any problem behaviors. He was just clingy to me. I don’t think he knew how to handle the emotions in the room since he’s such a happy boy. By the time I looked up, Jenny was walking up by the other owner for support.
Through Jenny’s tears, I listened to her speak. Her words were mature for her age. She put a lot of thought and feelings into her speaking then that’s when she talked about going to Mental Hospital. “All I wanted was for my step dad to say he loved me, and it was going to be okay. But he wasn’t even there. No one but one person other than mom came and that was Mr Jorden.” At that point I felt she was at the beginning stages of healing.
I can bet Jorden would have been proud. He was always teaching her about speaking up and she did.