Fandango’s provocative question this week is
What’s the hardest decision you’ve ever had to make? What made the decision so difficult?
The hardest decision has always been calling time on a beloved pet. I’ve already written about that, and Fandango has too. It’s a painful and heart wrenching choice, but we put our pets first, not ourselves, but that does not take the grief, or guilt, away, and time just numbs it a little.
But for today, something else:
After my divorce was finalised, I decided to leave my job, friends and family to move in with a single Dad who had custody of his two young sons.
The relationship lasted almost 8 years, and the only good thing that really came out of it was my fostering experience. I would not change that for anything.
There were signs that I was being used from the very first day of my arrival and the next few months, by which time I had grown fond of the boys and did not want to desert them as their mother had done.
This of course was used against me, but in 1988 enough was enough and I made plans to leave.
It took a year, as I first had to get myself well from a nervous breakdown and then find somewhere to go, what to take, and try to save a little money as my savings had all gone years before. My boss continued to be supportive, especially as she had to employ someone to take my place.
My brother agreed to take me and the dog in as my parents were not in a position to help me other than their support and love, so in March 1989, I packed the kids off to school telling them I wouldn’t be there when they got home (but omitting I wasn’t coming back this time), cleaned the house, did the laundry, prepared a meal, and my brother, a friend and my Dad pulled up in the van mid morning.
I left 2 letters: one to the boys emphasising it was not their fault and that I no longer had any feelings for their Dad who certainly had none for me, and one for him.
He rang my parents when he got home demanding to talk to me, but my Dad said I wasn’t living there, but he would pass on a message.
I called him and he was very tearful about ‘everything was gone’ and ‘who was going to look after the kids?’ as his mother had refused (she was always happy they went to hers after school anyway as she conveniently lived opposite) and his ex-wife also wouldn’t help him out as she was working.
It was a hard decision to make because two now teenagers were involved, but it was unfair to expect them to live in an atmosphere of animosity, anger and resentment.
He had no respect for me and worse, I had little for myself.
It was hard to accept that I had been such a fool, that I had stayed so long because of my sense of responsibility and now had another failed partnership behind me.
However, had I stayed, I don’t think I’d be here today.