When You Can Do Nothing But Heal--Part 1

They accused me of murder.

When all the tests results were in and the investigation finished, the final conclusion for his death was the first conclusion--massive heart attack resulting from blockage in the artery in the front of the heart often referred to as "The Widow Maker" because...it makes widows.

But to them, I wasn't his widow. I was his killer.

He had chosen to move out.
He had chosen to pursue divorce.
He had chosen to tell our kids God can fix anything...except our marriage.

But surely if I had not been too hard to live with....
...too demanding...
...too difficult...
...too unappreciative...
...too...to blame....
he would have never made those choices.

Yep. He was dead, and it was my fault.

And believe it or not, it got worse from there, but then, I had only been their daughter-in-law for 19 years. What can you expect? Right.

I was utterly stunned at how cruel they were and the horrific accusations they made.

That was two years ago.

In the two years since, they have asked to see the children, asked to talk to the children, asked about the children. Sometimes they ask about me. They have sent the children gifts, and even sent some to me. Whether they are being nice or being conniving, I don't know. Because of the horrible things they did and said, I assume the worse.

What they have not done in those two years is apologize.

There has been no mention of any of it, and if I even act like I am about to broach the subject, the conversation is abruptly ended. If there is remorse, no evidence of it has seeped into my world.

Still, the fact remains these are the grandparents of my children, and I want my children to have an option of a relationship with them, so I endeavor to keep a relationship with them.

Next week is Grandfather's birthday, and I must say, of all the grandparents (four total), he has been the most open to relationship. He initiates conversation, sent me a birthday card, and talks long. I've always enjoyed our conversations. He was a huge blessing after my dad died. He and Dad liked the same country music, and talking to him helped fill the Dad-size hole in my heart. But I confess, for him to make the accusations he made, for him to be as deceitful and he was, broke my heart in ways my words cannot express. The choices he made and the relationships he chose and abandoned had a devestating effect.

And he is not going to do anything to fix it.

None of them are.

There will be no apologies.
There will be no attempts to explain.
There will be no recognition of the pain they caused.

Ever.

And there is no way I can change that. In fact, there is nothing I can do about it at all...except heal.