Ok….

I’m ready to talk about the broken window.

Unbeknown to everyone but M and Minn DD had been living here for 3 weeks. In separate rooms with no physical contact, I was trying to help him out again, against my better judgment.

I never claimed to have good judgment.

It would take me days of words and hours of pictures to describe what happened that night…but I’ll give you the only picture that makes him dead to me.

When I was five, my sister, six and my brother eight waited for my father to pick us for a movie. He told my mom he would come over and pick us up for a movie. She got us all dressed up and he never showed. He did that a lot.

For some reason that night I went downstairs to the kitchen and saw my mother with her back to me, facing the sink and gripping the edge of it so hard I thought her bones would shoot right through her skin.

She was sobbing…the first and last time I’ve ever seen her cry.

“Mommy? You ok?”

“The only thing I’m grateful for from that bastard is you three kids. Go back to bed India, Mommy’s fine.”

A few nights ago I did the same thing. I stood in front of my kitchen sink and squeezed the tile so tightly I thought I would crack it…and cried like there would be no tomorrow.

Low and behold…the sun did rise.

It only took me a decade to figure out that some people are just cruel.

I will never see my father again not even at his funeral. Unfortunately for Vance, he did something so cruel to me that he is now in the same category as my father.

I don’t hate Vance…I pity him.

I don’t know which is worse.