The Apology Too Late
Without Prejudice
I began my stories as my brother wanted me to write. I had written a newsletter for him, for his Franchisees. 49 of them.
He loved it.
He said
" It's good, you are good, write" ( He tends to talk in staccato my sweet younger brother. )
When I asked him what I was supposed to write about, he said, my ex. A Ned Kelly kind of a man,
" Write the story about Paris " . It had always been my brothers favourite story of my ex.
So I did. And then the floodgates opened and I wrote and wrote and wrote. Long nights, longer days.
It was cathartic, it was frightening, it was me and it was wonderful.
I had been wronged by my ex. Treating me like shit and mocking me. Ensuring I was to get no money for property settlement after her death left me devastated and in shock.
The Apology,
(Or too little and too late)
(And if you think talking about him in my stories is a " bit repetitive " M. Too fucking bad !)
I loved him well enough and he me. I may have been only 17 when I married, but I wanted to be married and have a big family.
We had 21 years together and the way it ended was ugly and bitter. We had lost our youngest child and he moved back home " To be of comfort to the family " he said.
Nothing was less comforting and after counselling ( me ) and five awful months of nadir after her death I told him to " Get out "
And yesterday after being divorced for 23 years my daughter tells me only now. what he felt and said.
" I was a shit to your Mother" he said to my grown child.
" I treated her worse than anybody should ever have been treated"
" I was a bastard, a terrible husband "
" No wonder she left me ( sic) "
Well that's just great.
After living in limbo for all that time I finally felt acknowledged as a wife, worker, Mother of his 4 children.
I am a women of faith and supposed to forgive my enemies.
Fuck that, I am going to sue him for a million and I'll win.
Rick with a silent P !
I began my stories as my brother wanted me to write. I had written a newsletter for him, for his Franchisees. 49 of them.
He loved it.
He said
" It's good, you are good, write" ( He tends to talk in staccato my sweet younger brother. )
When I asked him what I was supposed to write about, he said, my ex. A Ned Kelly kind of a man,
" Write the story about Paris " . It had always been my brothers favourite story of my ex.
So I did. And then the floodgates opened and I wrote and wrote and wrote. Long nights, longer days.
It was cathartic, it was frightening, it was me and it was wonderful.
I had been wronged by my ex. Treating me like shit and mocking me. Ensuring I was to get no money for property settlement after her death left me devastated and in shock.
The Apology,
(Or too little and too late)
(And if you think talking about him in my stories is a " bit repetitive " M. Too fucking bad !)
I loved him well enough and he me. I may have been only 17 when I married, but I wanted to be married and have a big family.
We had 21 years together and the way it ended was ugly and bitter. We had lost our youngest child and he moved back home " To be of comfort to the family " he said.
Nothing was less comforting and after counselling ( me ) and five awful months of nadir after her death I told him to " Get out "
And yesterday after being divorced for 23 years my daughter tells me only now. what he felt and said.
" I was a shit to your Mother" he said to my grown child.
" I treated her worse than anybody should ever have been treated"
" I was a bastard, a terrible husband "
" No wonder she left me ( sic) "
Well that's just great.
After living in limbo for all that time I finally felt acknowledged as a wife, worker, Mother of his 4 children.
I am a women of faith and supposed to forgive my enemies.
Fuck that, I am going to sue him for a million and I'll win.
Rick with a silent P !
