Parenting

The Rock

I would have to say that weekend for both of us was pretty great.  It’s really all I needed to be happy.  Not the vacation, him.  I never understood why he didn’t get that. I never understood why any of the men in my relationships never got that.  It was never about the houses or gifts or vacations.  It was never about money.  It was always, always, always just about them.  Their time, their attention, their commitment to making the couple a top priority.  Yes there was life responsibilities, yes there was kid drama, yes their were every day struggles, but it had to be us against the world.  And that meant a time commitment.  Something I guess Jolly Guy, along with other’s weren’t willing to do.  I didn’t want a ring, I didn’t want anything that money could buy  I wanted time.  I wanted safety,  I wanted security.  And all of that comes from the connectivity of the two people involved.  I felt connected to Jolly Guy after that vacation, but as all vacation attitudes, it quickly faded when real life set back in.  Things were status quo for a while then tragedy hit.  The phone rang one night around 3am.  I didn’t hear it at first being I was asleep and slept with ear plugs because Jolly Guy had sleep apnea and it was horrendous.  It rang again and my heart skipped a beat as I answered the phone.  It was Gingham.  In a panic.  “Something’s wrong with our daughter.”  I felt my body go cold.  “What happened?” I asked.  Keeping my calm, in control, crisis voice.  “She must have taken something, she’s not coherent, she fell out of bed and hit her head and is bleeding, what should I do?”  He was nervous and agitated and I could tell something else had been going on, but he didn’t want to get into it over the phone at 3am.  “Go to the emergency room, I’m on my way”  I said with ease.  “You are over three hours away, you don’t have to come.” He said shakily into the phone.  “I’m on my way” I stated again.  I told Jolly guy what was happening and in the middle of the night, I got into my car and drove off.  I drove three hours thinking the most awful things and playing over all the years of trouble we had with my daughter.  I went through scene after scene of what I would find when I arrived.  I stopped one time to go to the bathroom and for another cup of coffee and arrived about 7:15am.  I waltzed into the ER as if I knew where I was going.  She was still there and as I walked in I could see Gingham breathe a sigh of relief.  The Calvary had arrived.  I maneuvered with the doctors and nurses with grace and precision as I had done so many times before.  I asked all the questions that were pertinent, I asked things that I could see made Gingham look at me in awe.  It was like knowing how to ride a bike, once you’ve done it, you always know how.  They admitted her to ICU and she was in bad shape.  I told Gingham to go home and get some sleep and I would stay with her.  He did and hugged me hard.  “I’m really glad you’re here”  He said as I could see tears well up in his eyes.  Gingham was always a very emotional man.  He had great feeing and great heart, especially when it came to his daughters, but I could tell he was scared.  It was scary, but as I have said many times before; I am who you want next to you in ANY crisis situation.  I get shit done.  I can also, for some reason, not get emotional.  I am not the woman who cries, that can’t think, that is unsure of what to do next.  I am the rock.  And I knew it.  And everyone else knew it.  Unfortunately, crisis mode was where I lived, where I shined, where I was at my best.  I wish that wasn’t the case, but it was.  I had no idea how much I would need to call upon that strength in the next few weeks, but fate did.

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