Hamilton Family Circus

Dear Jake-

Two years ago you and I were given the greatest gift imaginable. As I write this he is sleeping in the other room and you are off somewhere doing God knows what. In the past eight days you have spent a grand total of four hours with him. Half of that trying to figure out how to leave him without him getting too upset.

As I watched you hold him and cry last night, promising him that you would do better, I thought perhaps... just maybe... you could understand a little of what you were missing. Yet this evening, as almost every other day in the past eight, you were too tired to visit. You needed to stay home and "relax."

A friend of mine told me perhaps it is because you didn't want a child as badly as I. Perhaps you don't really miss what you were never really sure you wanted. Yet somehow, I don't think that is the case. Perhaps he was my heart's desire but when I saw you with him, when you were you and not the disease, you were just as in love with him as I.

But now, you are the disease. When I close my eyes I see you in a long dark tunnel. When you look around you, all you see is darkness and despair but if you look far enough, squint hard enough you will see a small light at the end of that tunnel. Every night before I go to bed and every morning when I wake up I pray that you find your way to that light. To that place of peace and happiness that you had a year ago.

But for now, I want you to know that somewhere in the past eight days, your son has learned what an oval is. And while he might confuse the triangle for the square, he knows that there is such a thing as both a triangle and a square and that, my friend, is living proof that I am living with one of the most amazing people I could ever imagine.

Some day, when he is grown, he will form his own opinion of you, and why you were not here. I hope that he, unlike me, is able to see that daddy had a disease and that disease took him away. Because right now, I'm struggling. There is a deep sadness within me and a deep despair at the loss of the man that just a year ago I thought would be in my life forever. I am struggling to understand how you could choose that life over this one and how the disease could "win" when just a year ago we thought we had it beaten.

So, in case I forget to tell you, through all the anger and the sadness and the tears, thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. You have given me the greatest gift I could ever imagine and I promise that I will take care of him in a way that I only wish you could. Someday, when you find your way to the light at the end of the tunnel, I hope it is not too late for him to forgive you for all that you missed.

Heather