My Moment

There is one person that I rarely speak of, but this is a person I see everyday of my life.  I hear his laugh, I catch a glimpse of his eyes, I witness his "entertainer" character often.  I see this person... in my daughter.
Six years ago he began his journey on a different path... a path of abuse.  Drugs, alcohol, prescription medications, you name it.  Through his battle of addiction there were several long period gaps in the relationship between him and my daughter.  He would disappear then occasionally pop back in claiming to be clean, but I knew him.  I knew him clean and sober and I KNEW when he wasn't.  Incident after incident of putting our daughter in situations that I don't care to reminisce, I had no choice but to stop his visitations with her all together.  After another year of not seeing her, he took me to court.  He stood before our judge, sweating, squirming, stuttering, oozing of Meth.  Nonetheless pled his case.  Then it was my turn.  I naively assumed it was an open and shut case, figured I'd do the normal routine, give him a hug goodbye, tell him to be safe, wish him luck, then go home to my daughter.  Life as usual for us.  I waited for the judge to rule. I was told I would be turning my daughter over to him at 3pm that afternoon or I would be facing 30 days in jail!  Shock, disbelief and panic stormed through every pore of my body!  I couldn't speak.  After a moment I recovered enough to ask for an explanation.  She boldly stated that our initial court order allowed him state code visitations, her hands were tied. I was violating his rights.  Was this happening?  This woman had the power to find me in contempt of our court order if I didn't follow through with her ruling.  Tears came. I cried, I  pleaded with the her, but she didn't budge.  I knew she had seen it all.  To her I was no different then the typical jaded baby mama that was using our child to get back at him for whatever reason.  I was a docket on her calendar, just another case number, another file on her bench to get through.
I was terrified of the consequence.  Me in jail?  Away from my daughter.  I'd lose my job.  I'd lose everything we had.  My mind raced.  This wasn't happening.  I started plotting my plan, prioritizing what I needed to do once I got out of the court room.  I made my decision, I would agree to the visitation, get out of the courtroom, finalize my plan and deal with the consequences later.  The mother in me surfaced with force.  My tears turned to ice, my head lifted.  I remember taking the deepest breath just before I told her to take me to jail.  I vividly remember the look on her face.  Her eyes squinting with confusion, quickly turning to annoyance, as if I was a child challenging her.  We had what felt like an eternity stare-down, like a chess player, trying to figure out my motive of that move and what my next move was going to be.  I didn't have a next move.  I broke the silence, but I never let my eyes drop from her stare.  I blurted out "would you let him take your child"?  Silence.  I slowly saw the transformation in her eyes.   The no-bullshit judge melted into the woman she was, once the gavel was down and the black robe came off.  A Mother.  Was that enough?  Anxiety. Prayer. Plotting. Waiting. Answer me!!!  WAS IT ENOUGH???  It was.  In front of me was still a judge, but she was a mother as well.  She had a change of heart and allowed me two weeks to retain a lawyer to modify my court order.  Relief came. I thanked my Higher Power. I thanked the woman in front of me. I exhaled.
I followed through with what the judge ordered me.  Unfortunately he fell deeper.  His addiction turned to Heroin and it's coming up on another two years since he's seen our daughter.  As much as she wanted her father in her life, she refused to settle for a druggie dad.  She cut him out of her life, now goes by my last name, but never gave up hope for him.  I still kept in touch with him periodically, when he called, I answered.  I struggled with my role though.  What did God want me to do?  We are supposed to love everyone, not turn away those in need, right?  But where do you draw the line?  The line between supporting and enabling is a very thin and fragile line.  I wanted him better.  I'd do anything in my power to give my daughter her dad back.  I knew deep down I couldn't fix him, he needed help, but I couldn't disregard the "what if this time it's different" hope I still held on to.  With each failed attempt to get clean, my hope for him dwindled, he began to give up on himself as well and he fell lower than any human should have to witness another fall.  I set new boundaries, found peace with them.  He continued to check-in with me every so often, but each call left me broken, knowing he was at his end.  I knew I would soon receive the call that he was either dead or in jail.  That phone call came. 

It's been almost six months since that phone call and another stay in jail for him.  He was given the opportunity to do his time in a treatment facility setting.  His battle began.  I supported him as I could, we participated in requested tasks, but we knew that the first step in this treatment was not by his choice and we remained guarded.  I visited him and spoke with him weekly, I could hear the change and his progress, but I didn't trust it would continue once he was released from his sentence.  I began typing this post after receiving a package in the mail.  I knew who it was from before opening it, the return address gave it away.  Included was a long letter.  As I read it I questioned if someone else had written it, but I remembered this man.  I remember his thoughts.  I remembered his heart.  This was a man I once loved.  A man I once shared his last name.  I've missed him. I've longed for him.  Not in a romantic, hoping to revisit our past, as that ship has long sailed.  But just for a person I genuinely care for.  This was a man I desperately wanted for him to find his way back.  For himself...for his daughter.  As I finished the letter, I witnessed a changed man, a humbled heart, and a hopeful spirit.  A new, yet familiar man.
My normal self would usually refuse a smile or allow any feeling of this moment, in fear of another unhappy ending.  But in my new attempts towards progression... I'm allowing positivity.  Although I can't say I trust that he will continue on the path I hope for, I can say I am willing to allow myself to trust that this moment comes from a pure and genuine place.  I found myself in new territory.  What was I feeling?  It wasn't hope, it wasn't faith... just peace, contentment.  Regardless of the ending of this "story"... I am choosing today to allow happiness for THIS moment.
I am not the author of his story, I can't write what the final page will bring... but I am enthusiastic to continue reading his book.  Today I will stamp this page in my passport of life and remember my moment.