Promise

Our tale spun wildly and filled the bleak pages of time,

Days went swiftly by and nights lingered long past the hand of which was longer.

It all changed so fast as if there were no today…..no yesterdays,

No memories to make us stronger.

Demons that stole their way home,

They dwelled in the darkest of hours and in the furthest crevices of your mind.

While they ate freely of what was left of my heart,

They devoured the soul of a man that once was kind.

I gave more than what was needed and placed you high,

Upon that silver lined pedestal that matched your beasts of burden and needs.

You reached out for help by lashing and finding blame,

But, I knew you were only searching for answers among the brambles and weeds.

You sought answers to the riddle that plagued you in the midst of anger and turmoil,

Questions that only left you blind to all and unforgiving.

The one thing that I could not fight against was hidden inside you,

Black, cold and unrelenting shadows that brought forth another being.

You spoke of seeing and walking among the hills of Hell,

How the higher being left you cold and afraid.

How the hourly torment continued in front of you,

How you exclaimed you would eventually sleep in the bed you made.

The conflict of moral obligations met those who had other plans,

Directions and means that you never saw an acceptable reason for.

You placed such high hopes in your final gallant return,

Only to find on that paved road home that you faced a much harsher war.

Casualties lay around like the discards of the Autumn winds,

As the wounded stood searching for the direction in which to point the blame.

Many you could not face without fear you made the wrong choice,

The unmerciful self guilt stemmed from those who desperately called to the saviors by name.

Shattered dreams callously met you at every wink of dawn,

Whispered gratitude went unheard and fell scattered on the ground.

Once was, faced the brutal reflection that tears had left in the wake of night,

 Blood was without warning blinded by the hurt you projected, was the only sound.

Judged by all man and not that of what you believed,

It sat stubbornly waiting out Father Time like that of rusted coffin nails.

Time ticking loudly as your faith and love slowly bled out,

Gently beckoning you with the promise of peace and safety from where the light hails.

Your fall to the bottom came so swift,

And I watched helplessly as your hands reached out but, didn’t want to hold on.

I reached out to grab you and pull you back from that dark corner, in which you preferred,

Only to find you slipped and the beast had triumphed and won.

All that is left is a cold steel heart,

Which remains upon my breast where your head used to lay.

A reminder of what was, what is and, what will forever be,

Now just a taunting memory that haunts me every day.

Now I find I must face my own mirrored fear,

Thrown among the unanswered and broken pieces of what used to be.

I lie awake in the silence that loneliness and heartache provides,

Trying to understand all that you just couldn’t see.

I smile sometimes when you still come around,

Whether it be in dreams or a forgotten memory.

I cry when the pain twists my heart into pieces,

Reminding me of the pain you must have felt and we just couldn’t see.

Now as I lay thinking of a suitable place of honor,

I wonder if you found the peace of which you sought for so long.

I wonder if you feel me like I feel you,

And if you have finally forgiven all that was wronged.

Sometimes I wake with tears wondering how I could let you fall,

Even when the spoken promise whispers to me that I held on as long as I could.

I often think of you when the unrelenting hand passes the witching hour,

And of how forgiveness suddenly went from never to should.

I miss the way you laughed with your entire being,

A sound which had become a faded thing.

I miss the way you called me mommy,

I miss the smile your presence would always bring.

A fallen angel you thought you had become,

A used soldier of misfortune you once stated bold,

A man of conviction and great promises is always what I saw,

Among the heart of gold you kept so closely guarded from the cold.

Now I wander the mountain where you planned to retire your days,

And linger fondly over the good times and tremble still of those which were bad.

I still seek the answers you wanted and are now mine to bear,

All while trying to understand that you didn’t really mean to be so mad.

Broken I try to rebuild a life I of which I do not know,

And salvage what was left among the debris that we called our refuge.

A place now where you no longer belong,

A shelter of which my heart can heal from War’s fiery deluge.

Hopeful peace found you at the moment you broke,

A smile I heard, painted the etched lines of your face.

How I wished I had helped what you chose for redemption,

How I wished I could have seen the return of self grace.

There are days where I sit in wonder of the many facets of change,

How life is a fickle thing with plans of her own and one must pick up the slack.

Some days are filled with loneliness and some twinkle with hope,

Mostly these days, I yearn with the thought of how I just want you back.

A promise made a promise broke,

Seems to be the moral of our story with no boundaries that end.

But the promises that were made by both of us,

Still be the empty garden that I will tend.

A rose for the love that grew without fail,

A lily to remind me of the strength you gave when I had none.

Water to calm that burning flame you called a soldier’s burden,

Will be the chosen way to say goodbye by your sons.

As the stones that roll sing about unwanted truth,

I whisper a lullaby of which you would always lean in to hear.

I say a prayer every night in hopes that peace wrapped you in its arms,

Hoping that loved ones past were now near.

Saying goodbye was always a phrase of which we never said,

You said it meant that you weren’t coming back and that would never be true.

I find it hard now to spill forth the false words that mean forever,

It was the one thing I never learned how to do.

We will carry on as I promised,

Although it will never be the same again without you here.

A promise I will somehow keep in the same earnest fervor as they were spoken,

I will fulfill the wishes for the children you held so dear.

I’m so sorry for everything that went wrong,

How I wish we just could have simply had a chance.

But Life isn’t without it’s takings we learned,

And sometimes you’re left with no choice but, to take the lead in the dance.

I hope that someday I will see you again,

Laughing and telling me how that water gave the prize you fought for.

It gives me comfort knowing you will be there,

When my time begins to knock at the door.

I promise I will keep trying,

No matter how hard it may seem to do just that.

I will place the words into the world as promised,

In hopes that someone can be saved from their world you said was black.

You planted seeds that I am forever grateful for,

Ones that grow every day and on their way to becoming ones you would be proud of.

Ones that miss you terribly,

As we watch your stars twinkle above.

I don’t know if I can say a parting out loud,

It seems to be my biggest challenge to date.

How does one say I love you with all the pain surrounding it,

And get the point across that I have become to hate.

I know that I must learn to let go and say farewell,

Finally closing a chapter that was still unwritten and due.

I know I must learn to set you free now,

But you must learn to let go of me too.

Fly away now, my once fallen angel

And find your own way that you so desperately seek.

Lay down your guns, mighty warrior, and open your eyes

Life’s heavy shackles have broken and now you are finally free……………

In the Aftermath........

Angel Protecting Entrance

Panteon Delores, Mexico City

I know.........

I just walked away, didn't I?

I lost everything after he died. I sort of shut down and while I was at it, just shut down the world around me....it seemed too loud, too cold, abrasive and, way too overwhelming. It's been a hell of a year. I could give you a dozen analogies but, it truly is like walking on a tight wire with a set of heavy weights. You spend so much time fighting to keep upright and follow a straight line when in reality....you are wobbling, going side to side due to the weight of the problems and, scrambling to keep from sinking down or falling off. I had been shut out, shut in, doors slammed in my face and the cards shuffled once more on what our identity as a family was. The coldest reality was trying to figure out who we were without him since our existence was based on his service, his injuries and his story. I didn't know how much our lives revolved around him and that everything else was just a forethought. Once they are gone, you are left with "what do I do now?". It seems weird that I no longer have to fight the system, remind about medications although I still think I do when I see the clock or spend three hours a day trying to wake him up and another four, trying to get him to go to bed. We were with him on a daily basis. It had the same echoes of familiarity as them coming out of service, retiring, med-boarded etc and not knowing who they were anymore. It was hard to look in the mirror and face ourselves as regular people; not that family of a wounded warrior. It was just... gone. In a minute.
Grief has been my best friend of sorts as far as my mind and heart goes. He stays all night, doesn't complain, opens his visit with a mournful sigh and pitiful laugh when you remember a funny memory. He kind of slips in without making a fuss or big show of "Here's Johnnnnnnny!" and climbs into bed with you while you watch the shadows creep around your bedroom. He lies there quietly in that cold, dark bed of heartaches and regrets with you while the icy hands of loneliness caress you while you try to find the elusive sleep you so desperately seek. He keeps the lights low, whispers softly and keeps the covers easily accessible so you can pull them over your head. He holds my hand when the tears start, quietly allows me the time I need to get it out and, stays with me when my heart hurts. Patient he is, with me, especially on those moments where you can't breathe. He just sits and waits. He doesn't fuss about the puffy eyes you hide from crying so others won't see, he doesn't make any comments that you look like utter crap when your nose is all snotty and red from the crying jag you had from an all night-er. Yes, Grief keeps a steady vigil while you read a letter over and over again until it threatens to fall apart from the creases you keep folding and unfolding. He doesn't mind what you're wearing, doesn't fuss if you don't eat or that your absolutely just broken inside. He is with you all the same.

Guilt can also be a bitch.......

A cruel....malicious....unrelenting.... nasty....son of a bitch.

 
The kind who creeps up when your smile is a thousand watts and shuts it down while laughing at you as you stumble and fall in the dark. He is there as a reminder when things *seem* to be going OK and when those moments of "I am doing this, Honey!! I am doing it for you and with you!" hit you like a freight train. There with you, as you watch your child run on the playground with his friends at school. Squealing and whooping with so much joy and a laugh that could make the hardest crack up; all while knowing his father will never see that. The tears...when your other son tells you how much he misses Daddy and how he wants to be a doctor in the military....Yeah, Guilt is a hard ass when he wants to be especially in those moments where you wish nothing more than him there with you, seeing what you are witnessing and feeling that moment in it's entirety. He is a reminder that I am without him. He is that daily dose of the bitch slap into reality when you wake from a good dream where I see and talk to him, that he isn't truly there. Grief's a bastard. Then when it's really bad, he creeps up quickly when you least expect it and sometimes brings along his side kick, Guilt. 

Fucking Guilt.......

 Yeah, I said it. When we say as Caregivers, family and wives etc, that we don't "get" our Veterans sometimes? We know they have it but, we don't quite understand the who's, the when's, and the why's? You will if they die. Not all of it but, to a major degree you understand more in the aftermath. I don't honestly know any other way to say it that will make it pretty or sugar coat it.....it simply is what it is. It is harsh, bittersweet and cruel to finally understand a majority of it when they're gone. All the buried secrets uncovered, the lies harbored finally released, the full extent of what War can do to a man, finally reveals itself in a way that drops you to your knees. It will swallow you up like a big, gaping, black hole and, not release you no matter how much you're kicking and screaming. You fluctuate between being stunned at the revelation or shocked as hell you didn't get it before. You wonder how you could be so dumb, how you were so blind that you missed it before and, that you knew them like the back of your hand so how did you miss this? How could I not understand to the full extent while he was alive? It was the one thing that keeps them from smiling, having joy in its fullest or what kept them from sleeping peacefully. It kept them from saving themselves.

Guilt....the nastiest and biggest demon our Veterans face post-war home and carry on their backs. It is the one Demon we can't soothe, or banish from their hearts...no matter how much we hold on and love them. Mix that with regrets, loss, moral challenges/conflicts, and the adrenaline they seek to replace the daily pucker factor and rush they were so used to....it's one of the hardest things to battle in my opinion. In my mind....I know now there wasn't anything I could do to relieve that. I get told this all the time but, damn.....reminding myself over and over again and accepting it is a challenge in itself. My heart has been overloaded on acceptance of some things these days but, that one? It might take a while and maybe never......

Then you get pissed...... 

Pissed, that you didn't see it coming, pissed that they didn't want to lay their burdens on you when you were offering and pleading to share the weight of their demons. Pissed because they didn't give you a chance to help them. Irate, because you are so confused  because it wasn't their time to go. Infuriating moments on a daily schedule, when you think about "what if it was his time?". Why now? Why let us love at all? Pissed, because you were able to save him before but, enraged that you still hear his pleas of "why didn't you just let me go when I tried before?" in the middle of a meltdown. Hurt and angry because you constantly replay that in your head and wonder if you did something wrong by doing the right thing? Incensed, that we were not enough to want to live for. Was I selfish by holding on to him or was he for not wanting to stay?

Anger.....it's a bitch too.

Guilt with anger, because you promised everything would be alright and you would see them through. I know that I kept every single promise I made him except for my wanting him not to become a statistic in a VA drawer. The anger in myself for failing is inevitable I know....but, damn....he knew for a fact he could always count on me and that I kept my promises. How could he leave so fast? Infuriated....they didn't see you when you were right there. Pissed, because instead of taking you up on it, they back away into the shadows alone and choose between the two of you. Incensed, when the reality hits that he chose death. Anger surges daily because you feel you didn't do enough or try to understand the why's. You know it's not their fault but friends....friends who had information, concerns and witnessed things....never said a word. It's not their place, it wasn't their job but, I feel like they just stood by and let him go. You get so pissed because the hurt sometimes is just too much to deal with. Enraged that you couldn't do a single. God. damn. thing. to save them.......

Yes, Guilt and Grief......

the Good and Evil twins....

the great bastards of our human emotions as we know it.

I overheard a conversation the other day of a young twenty something talking to a buddy of his about him being turned down and bummed out by it to the point he didn't want to go to his college classes. He seemed relatively down and out but, I could tell his ego was hurting more. So his friend replied that he didn't know anything until a man is turned down by a woman he really didn't even like. "I didn't like this chick but, she was available. Guess what? I ask her out and she had the nerve to tell me no." He considered this turn down as the "ultimate slap" in the face and to his manhood. It was especially hard for him to accept this turn down since he honestly didn't care for her. I had my hands clenched out in front of me, hoping for that split second my body would overstep it's normal boundaries, disregard my shaking legs and let courage step in to beat the hell out of them. Not that I would ever do that but, just so you get the gist of it.
I so badly wanted to say "You really don't know an injured or broken heart until you lay one to rest. You don't know what losing is like or what being turned down "ultimately" until your best friend and partner chooses death over you." That....That, is the ultimate turn down. There isn't a man or woman alive who could dare say that so and so turned them down and it hurt or, that the person they love chose another person to replace them....and be any where near the pain that the knowledge of death winning, brings into your life. Oh, to be that young..................

But, each loss is painful isn't it? A different kind of loss...different for each person. So who am I to judge right?

Between these feelings, I seem to be divided in finding comfort in them as they have been around for a while or... spend the rest of my time fighting them off. When I feel my smile fading, I try to quickly regain the control of it again. Sometimes I smile and it feels like my face is going to shatter from just the pure energy I had to force to do it. When those breathless moments hit you when something reminds you of them, you fight to just grasp a tiny bit of air. Yes......fighting seems to be a never ending action when it comes to PTSD, TBI, Suicide and the Aftermath of it all. I don't want to fight anymore....I can't fight anymore. I just....can not fight.

I headed West back in the Summer as I was accepted into the Hyper-Baric treatment program in Boulder, CO. It was a great experience and one that I am eternally grateful for not just for that treatment but, in the future. I met so many nice people, especially the wounded veterans coming in. I felt terrible trying to get myself better but, I couldn't just lay down and quit. My doctor's weren't paying attention with their chemo drugs and kept piling more on and on. I couldn't keep going like that. Between that and all the issues death brings, I more than likely would have died from a combination of all plus a broken heart. Sounds exaggerated but, it wasn't. I know that now, and was told that. It was good to get off all medications, wean myself off of the multiple steroids and, to start trying healthier approaches that I had not considered. I love that there are more options for me than what limited resources we had back home. I was now a single mother and provider, I had no choice but, to take care of my kids and myself. While there are many slackers, I couldn't just choose option B of "I don't want to do this anymore!".
Home wasn't home any more. It was a prison that had terrifying echoes that resounded off every little thing in there. It was heavy...so heavy that people didn't like coming in there. I couldn't breathe, relax or sleep. Eating a meal was a challenge for me. Relatives were pretty damn bad. Some friends....even worse. It was an earth shattering time and I am still reeling. Some days are better than others; some really bad when some of his demons come looking for a fight. I could deal with the lies, I could deal with his mistakes but, what I could not handle was to look back to see how his world was spiraling out of control and knowing there was nothing I could have done. How was I to know when he hid it so damn well? What I had been able to do just wasn't enough it seems and I am still not satisfied with that knowledge.
I just could not deal with the aftermath of how our family was. To see my children who did nothing wrong, punished or to see them scared killed me. There isn't a thing I wouldn't do if it meant taking that punishment for them and ensuring that we were going to be ok. The unfolding of the truths about his death, friends who seemed to always need us but, weren't there when it came our time to ask for help was a hard blow. The pain that comes with the realization that certain family members turned their grief into pure malice and hate, further broke me. For a while, I thought back on every detail wondering what I had done to cause these people to act this way or did I not give them a chance? No, it started immediately and ran it's course. Churches....I know not all of them are bad but, some were worse than any Westboro member I could compare to them. Bibles were left with horrible, hateful notes, passages highlighted to ensure that you "got" their message whether you wanted to or not, and who could forget how many told me he went to Hell because of the stigma of suicide? Nothing says "we care" like complete strangers at your door wanting to pray for your husband's soul that now "rests in the hands of Satan".

The Ever Lasting Fight With Religion......

I read the Seven Stages of Grief or whatever that book was. I'll admit it...I half-assed skipped through it and didn't even want to read it. I was never one for self-help type books and I didn't need a book to tell me how to grieve. I spent a lot of years with people telling me how I should do this or that. I wasn't going to define my feelings based on what a book said I should feel. The one thing that struck me was it didn't mention the struggles of one's self and suddenly being faced with a religious conflict. I worried....I panicked, and there were days where it was all I could think of. I began to read all these notes and started thinking....what if? You never really stop to think about disregarding what you believe in and were taught, until it's right there smacking you around. I remembered my husband telling me how he struggled with his moral convictions while in Iraq. We have all had our moments in our lives where we question our beliefs or possibly are angered with God or whoever you believe in; could put you in such hard times? Never though, have I witnessed a simple man break down because he felt like God just left him. He told me one night when he needed to "unload", how War showed him that mankind was cruel, relentlessness in their efforts to pursue what they may or may not think what is right anymore.....He told me how it changed and shook him to his very core of every thing he read, learned in the bible and what his grandparent's taught him. I told him he had to forgive. He wasn't left and if anything? He was there with him, helping and guiding him with the ones who were treated. They may not have come back if not for that partnership. But.....it was never truly about how many came home....it was always about the ones that didn't. I understand now....how it must have felt to have that conviction ripped from you. My best friend uses the analogy of "baptism by fire" and I could only imagine that's what he faced. How, what people think that is right or wrong and not really knowing the true meaning of anything, shatters what you believe in or know. How, it hurt to be faced with people who blamed you for something you didn't even do.....Yeah, I understand so much now. I lived with "What if......???" every single hour on the hour. It's Hell; pure Hell and torture.  Then I said no......

No, it can't be....... 

I don't and will not believe that. There are too many things that have happened to me since his Death that points in the other direction. Inner conflicts of the doctrines of religion should be one of the stages of grief. No one seems to mention that but, who hasn't wondered about a loved one passing and just as you worried about them alive, you worry if they made it to the pearly whites? I still worry he is alone, or scared....fearful that I wasn't there to meet him and help him. I even worried about what if he got lost? I wasn't there to help. I worry all the time about him....but, I know in my heart he is at peace. He struggled for a long time and while I never understand what happened.....I now know he was in a lot of pain; physical and mental. So much pain.... the kind that a human should never have to endure. How the hell he hid it from everyone was just....dumbfounding. I found out more after he passed and try to incorporate that to help me deal with the fact he's gone. There are days where I swear I hear him but, running towards that voice leads me to an empty room and deflated hopes. 
 I rarely talk about religion or politics, you know that! It is though, my personal belief, that religion doesn't get to have the last say when War is involved. It's War. What happens as a result of it as far the soldiers that battled in it, isn't religion's decision to determine whether they are worthy of saving or....falling. No, most religions say the Lord is a forgiving and merciful one. I still hold on to that. He was a good man, one who has given his shirt and coat off his back to someone in need, rescue and help someone, give money when they had none. One who followed his beliefs even when he and God had their issues to work out between them. I can be blamed for a lot of things but, I can't be blamed for not making him understand that God didn't leave him out there. I understand, accept that and, the fact it was something he and so many others like him have to work out. How can anyone be expected to change that way of thinking once it's in the mind of a lost, discarded shell of a man that he once was?
I have struggled with the grieving process. I won't lie. I think it's a combination of a lot of things. Death growing up, death of friends and loved ones, being shied away from that pain by my parents, or having a husband who thought you were so strong that crying was beneath you. Tragedy has struck me quite a few times and I realized that I never learned how to cope with death. I used to be quite fearful of it but, somehow I am not anymore. I am learning as much as I can and looking into so many other options for learning new coping skills. I learned all my life to hold my feelings inward like a closely guarded treasure that you were afraid would get stolen. It doesn't mean I don't have any or am cold....I am exactly the opposite. Sometimes, I love and feel too much that those emotions from others are then mine. It makes it living hell when this happens because I never know how I am feeling. I am probably grieving the wrong way to some people but, is there really a set formula one has to follow to be considered "appropriate"?

I avoid Facebook most days, weeks, well.... months. I haven't been there unless it's to check on something or speak to a friend. Some days I want to yell and say "Learn to appreciate even the roughtimes because Dammit! It can be gone just like that!" but, that isn't fair for me to lash out nor do I want to be that reminder again that it could happen to you. I was that for almost 8 months and still to this day, I get emails stating this blog helped them but, that it scares you because our story is similar to that of what you go through now. "You don't want to be me".....I get it. Trust me, I don't want this either. I don't mind the emails but, there are so many like myself and husband out there.....we saw it every day. We weren't the only ones. Those of us who are advocates pushed....pushed for recognition of the 22 a day, more programs to help us to win the War that was brought home, tried to put out there what we were trying, accomplishing and failing at. All in hopes, that it might help someone following us. There are many of us who helped others with statistics, brought forth failing programs (or lack of) and boldly pushed the news when it came to misconduct of the military, VA hospitals and employees and, yes, even the Civilian side of it. 

We were there...

The whole time.  

 Our story is no different than the rest of you.....

    The one similarity between us all is

       we just hope for a different ending.......

I feel like I don't belong anymore there. I feel like I let a ton of people down and well, things have changed so drastically just in over a year or more that I feel what we have been through isn't what the current situation is. I know I am loved, and blessed to have such a wonderful and tight knit community but, I am ashamed still. Not of my husband and not of his post war injuries that were sustained. I am ashamed because I couldn't save him. Yes, before people email me and comment...I am doing counseling. I take things one at a time and hour by hour. I focus every day on my kids and have gotten back to basics with my family. Hell, I am trying to get back to basics with me. It's a challenge but, I am working on it every minute of the day. Another obstacle is to learn to forgive everyone involved or who weren't involved enough, especially those who will never say they're sorry for what they have done. Learning to forgive myself is a major battle that I will fight. Forgiveness....such a simple word but, one of the hardest to put into motion.

I don't know the answers because who really learns to even consider these items in a marriage to someone you thought would always be there? This wasn't something that they teach you, warn you about or prepare you for. In our story, we were supposed to end on a mountain top, in our cozy front porch rocking chairs trying to shoot warnings shots at the kids because they want to drop off the grand-babies. At least, that was his story for us. 

How I wish things could have been different. 

For some reason this blog hit 277,000 plus views just this year and in a way....I hate that. Why? Because if you are here, it means that you are looking for answers that I can't give you. I hate that anyone should have to look for help when the help should be there all the time. I know the sheer desperation though, and the feeling of being all alone trying to hold up the world. Many of you have reached out and told me how his story saved them or helped them in some other way. For that, I am grateful. Many of you know his motto was "If we could just save one, Mommy". Well, I think he accomplished that. I just wish he knew. We were a good team on this endeavor. I was the pen that put it to life and he was the one living it. I am ever grateful for that support but, I am more grateful that this blog helps in some way and so very proud of the Veterans who have found their way and saved themselves. 

I haven't been able to write since the last post. I don't know if it was just writer's block or perhaps, my heart isn't in this fight anymore. I don't know. It feels good to have written this much and just put it all out there. Thank you so much for all the love, support and kindness that you have shown me. It means the world to me and my boys. We will get back on our feet....somehow we always do. Just this time, was a much harder fall and one that will take us a while to climb back up. If I had to end this post with any advice....it would be, keep fighting. Let them know every. single. day. how much you love them and even when the days are dark....find at least one positive thing to say to each other.  Talk.....communication is that important. While I know the struggles all too well, there are moments when I realize it just wasn't that important that he was messy, or that I held so much resentment inside towards him for things he just simply could not help. I am brave enough to admit that was my fault. Honestly...I don't think I even knew I had resentment until it was gone. Count each accomplishment no matter the size, as a big win and dammit...celebrate it. Try to remember that no matter how much you do for them? They don't sometimes understand nor can they reciprocate. It's just not cognitively there anymore to do so among their injuries.. Sometimes, we as spouses, loved ones and family harbor ill feelings when in reality? It's what we do to show our love, so how can we fault our Veterans if they simply just don't "get" it? Stand your ground no matter how hard it gets, if you truly love them. When I started to falter and lose strength, it's when he gave up on me. I don't want this to happen to someone else. Let go of those resentments and change the regrets into doing them. Share your story....you never know who will read it and change their world. 

Love is a Bitch Too,