A small notice before I start. This isn’t another essay written by a broken hearted lad because his Bonnie Las walked out on him after only six months and his world collapsed as he slips into darkness.

IT’S NOT

I assure it is not. I see why that would put the reader off. Six months? Are you freakin’ kidding me? So the dame left and you are all alone, depression hits in. You sleep for a week with a picture of her next to you on the pillow. Not even mom’s homemade chocolate chip cookies, you’re favorite, can pull you out of the six month tragedy funk. But, life goes on. Time heals all wounds.. Well, not all. And that is where this tale comes from. Seeing as it is Valentines Day month and all the lovely couples will be out doing themselves from the previous year. If there was a previous year. But, I could forever skip this cupids month. Here is why.

As a kid growing up we all have aspirations to do great things when we become adults. We all look forward to a certain day, for the ladies it is their wedding day. For the gents it’s flying to the moon as an astronaut or chasing the bad guys as a cop like in your favorite movie. Come to think of it I don’t remember what I wanted so as a child.

I grew up in a nasty, abusive Christian cult. I am the first born out of six children. Yes, to the same parents. All I can remember is that my brother was so hyperactive. He had ADD and ADHD, plus some. He was a handful. There wasn’t much attention on me at all. And when it was I was being punished for something fucking stupid. Then I went right back to doing whatever I did as a kid. My mind has blocked many memories. But when my parents left the cult, my mother hooked up with a younger dude and left my father and all us kids. So yeah, broken home. As a teenager, discovering myself and who I was I remember I could not wait to have a family of my own. A girlfriend or wife to love forever. A child or two that would look up at me and call me daddy. I would be so much better than my father was. I couldn’t wait.

When I turned nineteen years old I met a girl who was beautiful. Her smile, green eyes and laugh were perfect. I went along that night to meet her because my best friend Dan was into her friend Natalie. But upon meeting her she knew right away I was my brother Jake’s sibling. Because my brother was well know and a huge asshole and womanizer, she wanted nothing to do with me. Thinking I was just like him. It took Dan and Natalie two hours to convince her to talk and see what happens. She agreed. I had her hooked within minutes. Making her laugh and smile. Sparks went off that night. At the end of the party she gave me her number and I gave her mine. She wrote,

“This night was amazing with you. Can’t wait to do it again.”

Chelsea on the night we first became serious, on her homecoming.

I rode home in the trunk of my friends two door honda that night squished and couldn’t breath, smiling the whole way home.

It was October of 2001 when we met and began talking. I however discontinued our engagement for almost two months because my so called best friends were trying to hook me up with this other lovely lady by the name of Ashley. She was older, and lived way closer so I indulged to the dismay of Chelsea. I also remember having both the ladies over at my apartment at the same time. I suppose I figured it was a trial run, to see who could grab my attention first and keep it. Yeah, I know, present me thinks past me was a complete asshole. Even though I was doing this I knew all along it was Chelsea. I was into her but wanted to clear my head, so I just went back to being me and stopped talking to them. Four months later in February of 2002 I called Chelsea and to my shock she gladly accepted. She had waited for me this whole time. We ended up talking on the phone for hours on end. Days even. On February 19th 2002 I remembering turning to her as she sat in the back of her best friends car, I sat shotgun and I asked her to be my girlfriend. Giggling and smiling she said yes.

I fell in love with her easily. Her radiance put a smile on my face everyday. I biked twenty miles round trip everyday to see her at her house and surprisingly became buff that summer. I was in love, pathetic and premature as it sounds, it’s true. I wanted to ravish her daily. But she made me wait six months before we had sex to see if I was the real deal or just after her for some booty. Well six months was nothing. I proved to her she was who I wanted. As amazing as the sex was, she came first. And that is when she fell in love with me. Oh, did I mention I was nineteen and she was only fifteen, only a four year difference, and yeah, I took on a whole lot of shit for that. I didn’t care. I loved her.

Seven years our relationship lasted. Through some nasty fights and breakups and getting back together we stayed strong. We moved into our first apartment. A two bedroom down in the city. She worked for a Chevy dealership and I worked for a Toyota dealership. We always talked about having a baby. We both wanted it. But try as we might, nothing was happening. On my birthday in April of 2005 we had a nasty fight. A huge blowout, few hours later had the best make-up sex. That’s when she became pregnant. A little shy of nine months later we had our daughter Charlotte LeeAnn. Our completion to our family. This was what I dreamed of. A family to take care of. To protect. I loved Chelsea and our baby girl so much it hurt. After her birth a very drugged mama rolled over and said, “I love you so much. Look what we made. Our baby girl.” I cried that day. Of happiness. This was my family. And they loved me.

But as all great things in life blossom, the happiness dies. Work was scarce for me. We lived in a very cramped side house next to a friend of hers. We fought a lot. She would spend many nights at her parents house with Charlotte while I racked my brain on how I to get my family and make everything ok again. But I couldn’t. Three months after our daughters birth, as I was coming home from job searching I had caught the last of her moving all her things out. She was leaving me and taking Charlotte too. I wasn’t allowed to see her. Chelsea, had such anger toward me. She became unhappy. Noticing most of her friends who had kids doing it single. But having a life too. That’s what she wanted. So, that’s she got. During this time all I wanted to was to see my daughter. I never had the chance to become a father, but she continued to deny me and played games with me. Told me to be at her parents at a certain time. When I showed up early she had left hours earlier telling me she forgot and it would have to happen another time. I was distraught. But never gave up hope of seeing my daughter. We went to court, counseling, and the judge ruled my baby stay with the mother and I received visitation only when the mother wanted. I accepted and came back a month later asking for more. This went on in the courts for a year. With no representation. Eventually I won fifty/fifty custody. My time was every thursday through Sunday. I began building my bond with my daughter.

My Girls. Charlotte and her mama.

A few years went by and she dated a few guys, none I agreed with, still being in love with her. I never began looking for another girl,and all I wanted was to be with my daughter and build a life with her. April of 2007 came around and Chelsea called me saying she missed me so much. She wanted our family back and so we gave it another shot. Thinking about this now, I laugh because I was so naive. I wanted to love her always, and I knew she loved me, soon realizing she didn’t want to be alone. I was naive and it showed. Her compassion for me was gone, no love, and it hurt. But I knew I needed to let her be and love her from a distance. So I called it off and let her go be her. Telling her we will be the best co-parents in the world. And we were. We raised our girl with few arguments. She ended up meeting someone and made me promise I’d be nice. She became pregnant again and Charlotte got a baby brother. Chelsea graduated from a prestige cosmetology school and landed a sweet job.

This part I’m about to write still clouds my mind. There was a lot that happened so fast I was in the dark. She kept me there for good reason, well she thought it was for good reason. I remember the day she was grumpy with me and I asked why. Apologizing, said explained how she found out her boyfriend, the father of her son was a closet heroin addict, discovering a spoon and heroin with a needle in her closet. Crying now, she claimed never having knowledge of it previously. I told her I trusted her with all my heart she will know what to do with the situation and our daughter. Throughout the first years of our daughters life she had made it real clear no drugs around our child. Not even pot. I agreed. So here was an opportunity to show me the same restraint. She smiled and hugged me. I left it at that. But as my previous essays written about addiction, heroin is evil. A seductress, and it sucked Chelsea in. She became a closeted heroin addict and I didn’t even catch on. She was deteriorating in front of me and I had no clue. With her stubborn anti-drug stance I always thought she would honor that.

On May 14, 2011 my soul mate and the mother of my daughter died of an accidental heroin overdose. And my heart broke. I never understood how she could have died when just the previous night we had a wonderful conversation. I was living with my fiance and her daughter, along with mine on the weekends in our apartment when I received the news. The day after her death I was admitted into the ER and diagnosed with major PTSD and anxiety. I could not breathe. My heart never once slowed down, I suffered physical heart pain for months after. My heart had broke. Amongst all the chaos with her funeral, getting myself together so I could get my four year old daughter back into a routine and into counseling and enrolled into kindergarten, my fiance called off our engagement, moving out only a few months later.

A picture collage of Chelsea our daughter made.

They say a person is six times more likely to suffer a heart attack the very next day after losing a loved one. During my stay in the ER my Dr had told me with the amount of emotional strain and pain I was dealing with I hadn’t suffered a heart attack. I looked at him and told him I should have because my heart was broken. Time wouldn’t heal this wound.

And time never has.

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Death is the greatest adventure.

2 Comment on “When Darkness Fell

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