I know you don’t read these anymore, but I can’t blame you for not wanting to. I hope you want to see how I’m processing.
The dust is starting to settle and the ring in my ears is beginning to fade. My face is covered in debris and I can hear the remaining walls fall around me.
It’s gone. Everything that I worked so hard for is destroyed. My home is gone. My children’s safe space and security is gone. The love of my life is gone. The family vacations I wanted to take are gone. The life I wanted to give my family is gone.
I didn’t hold the detonator, but I’m the one that planted the bombs.
But that doesn’t matter. Everything exploded and now everything is gone.
But my kids are still here, and they are begging their dad to keep fighting. They are begging their dad to rebuild.
And you are still here. It’s hard to see you through all of the dust, but I can hear your voice in the distance.
I want to rebuild. I have to rebuild. I must show up for my family and give them all the life that they deserve.
So I’m going to do hard things. When I feel like giving up on everything so the pain can go away, I will fight harder, knowing the pain is because of how much love there is.
The foundation is demolished. That life was never built correctly in the first place. We built on stilts, on a hill. It was bound to collapse at some point.
I don’t want that life rebuilt. I want to build the one that you deserve. I want to build the one my kids feel emotionally safe in again. I want to build the one that you know can never be shaken again.
So we have to start from the bottom and work our way up. The foundation is the most important part and if it’s not done right, and the time and care are not put into it, then it’s never going to fully be able to support the weight of the amount of love that the rest of the house will be built with.
So I see you.
And I know it’s going to be a tough fight. My hands are tied and I can only walk through small pathways to get to you. But I’ll be damned if I ever stop pushing forward. Every step I take is going to strengthen the foundation beneath us. I may not be able to do big things, but it’s the little things that make the foundation secure. I can see you faintly in the distance, walking slowly, pained from the damage that you have been through, hesitant to trust the foundation as it’s failed you in the past.
I hear you.
I trust you.
You have no more reason to lie to me.
I won’t question you when you talk to me. I won’t make assumptions on what you meant. I won’t try to control the situation.
So here we are. Starting over.
I’m here. I’m going to show up every day, especially on the hard days. I’m going to work with everything that I have to make sure that you finally feel safe with the foundation we will build together. And I hope that you see the hard work I am doing to make sure this foundation is going to be stronger.
I know I can sometimes start walking towards the edge to begin building the walls, but I know that’s not where you are. You can’t move far until you can trust the floor won’t give out. And that it is a safe space to move about.
And I pray that the time comes when you will want to look around, with me closer to you than I’ve ever been, and tell me “I’m ready for a roof.”
So here we are.
Hi, my name is Kyle and I would like to be your friend.