If you had only known where you would be now. If you would have only known where you all would be after making that life-altering decision. You were so courageous. If you had known that in that moment of faith, that this is where you would be today, I know you wouldn’t have been as terrified out of your mind. I know you were frightened and alone, but look at the woman you have become. And who they would all become. In that fever ridden body in that police station, you were shaking and petrified of what he would do when he found out and now he’s gone forever. Oh my dear, if I could hold you and tell you everything would be okay. If I could hold you and tell you that you would soon understand that you no longer had to be unnerved every time you stepped outside, expecting to see him everywhere you went. You no long had to wrestle with anxious thoughts of what could happen.
You just wanted someone to believe you when you let the light in on what had happened to you. Everyone you cared about slammed the door in your face, as the truth poured out. Suddenly you feel more abandoned than you could have imagined. Then the shame crept in. As blame hit its blow from every person that you thought mattered, you retreated into that dark, foreign room and let the guilt eat at your soul. If I could only hold you and tell you it would be okay. That this war would end someday sooner than you could’ve imagined. That you would be accepted by those who chose you, even if the ones who bore you didn’t. Not because of what he had done or what you thought you had allowed to happen, but just because of you. That you would learn who and what family really means. If you knew that wholeness was not an alien, unimaginable, unattainable possibility, but a reality you would stand in, securely placed in a place of safety today. That the weight of the world no longer had to sit on your shoulders. That a love so deep would break down the walls and come crashing in to rescue you.
Darling, it wasn’t easy to say goodbye to everything and everyone you’ve ever known. It was hard saying goodbye that night as you packed a few things, trying not to crumble under the weight of every anxious thought creeping and rotting within you. It was difficult to imagine what life would become when you walked out those doors and when you left those you loved behind. But you knew the cycle of abuse had to end. That the destruction that wreaked havoc for those six years had to end, even if it meant doing the complicated thing. The pattern of misuse had to end. It couldn’t happen to anyone else or to you any longer.
A decade later, I can tell you my dear, that you couldn’t have began to even imagine who you would become. That restoration would come. That a new family would come. That the old family would come back too. That you would thrive, instead of survive. That you would enter a life of technicolor grace. That you would be made complete once again. That you were not damaged goods but a healing so deep would enter into every fiber of your very being. That you would be awakened to life in ways you never knew were possible. That a new song would be on your lips. That you would have a new name. That a freedom would arise within you and that you no longer would have to stay in that place of fear. That every tear would not be wasted, that the shadow of death no longer remained, by the redemptive hand of the One who makes all things new. That you would come alive to be who you were meant to be.
That you would forgive. And that it would set you free.
It doesn’t mean it’s been easy. Or will be easy. This journey you will begin will be full of obstacles, highs and lows, mountains to climb, and deep valleys that seem endless in their nature.
Less than 6 months ago, almost a decade later, you will get the closure you could have never anticipated. And suddenly the wondering ends. The uncertainty ends. No longer would you have to guess how they felt about you. No longer will you have to look at the past and think about what it could have been if you had never left. Sitting in the same room that the trauma happened in, on that couch next to his deathbed, with him looking a dwarf of the man he had been, everything came to halt and you will have to absorb the fact that it is over. The war is over. Let peace wash over you. Say goodbye to mistrust and the hazy years you once knew.
And hold on. The light will come.
About to be 26 year old you
P.S. The next few years for you will be hard. You’ll deal with court cases, disownment, summer school, college, and constant change around you. But you were never alone.
To the family who abandoned me: I forgive you.
To the father who abused me: I forgive you. Even from the grave, I forgive you. I wish you knew just how much I forgive you.
To the place of safety I spent my first 2 weeks in and the staff that welcomed me with open arms: thank you.
To the one who laid aside all the arguments and chose compassion to rescue me: thank you.
To the family who took me in even though it was scary: thank you.
To the bikers who protected me in that courtroom: thank you.
To the parents would later adopt me as an adult and love me unconditionally: thank you.
To the church would be soon become my community: thank you.
To the friends I needed along the way, those who’ve stayed and those who are gone: thank you.
To the people who helped processed it with me into the late night and walk with me through every step of my healing: thank you.
To the siblings who overcame just as much in their own ways too: thank you. I’m sorry you had to go through it too. I love so very much my darling brothers and sister.
To the God who never left or forsook me, who redeemed my story, who loved me to the Cross: thank you.