My youngest child recently had a birthday that took him beyond his twenty-first year. Now it is time for my children to contact me, if they ever care to, rather than for me to always be fruitlessly reaching out to them on every major holiday. They know where I live. (Their Mother refuses to give me their addresses, or indeed, any information at all about them.)
I last heard from any of them in 2007. I last saw any of them in 2006. That's PAS in the West.
Losing your children is devastating. The only thing that has allowed me to move on after years of personal devastation is a growing Christian belief. I attend church now frequently and reflect upon the inscrutable nature of faith.
I forgive them all, even the scumbag divorce lawyers who, in my opinion, preyed upon children and were the enablers of this family-wrecking.
Last month my oldest child had a birthday and I published the following fare-thee-well to him on FB. Those posts, limited to 220 characters, are necessarily short.
I remember Jimmy Lamberton dribbling down the pitch with two minutes to go in a scoreless championship game while being jostled by a midfielder, juking around a sweeper and scoring upon the previously unbeaten goalie. It was a beautiful run. He had just joined the McLean Sting, a select soccer team, which thus won the tourney. Happy birthday Jimmy Rogers and have a good and prosperous life. I'm going to miss you but I was blessed to be your father.