I have said that this has been a momentous year. While I was healing through the balm of the forgiveness which I embraced last winter, even going to church and whispering prayers that I would never contemplate Sharon again and that God would protect the well being of my boys even while He allowed me to get past them, things happened that roiled my emotions again.
So I related three painful little vignettes here from my interminable divorce, a horrible story relating to each of my three then-minor sons. Divorce is a barbaric proceeding in America and the pain of losing children to PAS is a raw open wound.
I almost always call Sharon's number on holidays to leave a message for my sons who are under 21. I ask them how they are doing in school, tell them that I would love to take them to lunch at a nearby restaurant, and say that I love them. Then I go to that restaurant at noon and order lunch for myself and one or two phantoms.
Seven years ago on Columbus Day, Dr. Victor Elion of Fairfax, a charlatan psychologist in my opinion, suspended my visitation over NOTHING, after Sharon called him to complain that I had brought one child back from visitation tired. I didn't see nor speak to any of my sons again for well over 90 days.
I won't bore you with all that went on during those incredible three months before a court finally heard the merits of this extra-judicial suspension and ordered visitation to resume immediately, but this is an extremely painful memory, even today. This period effectively killed my relationship with my children.
On Columbus Day 2008, I called Sharon's number to leave a message for my under-21 children. Her address in Arlington and this phone number are the ONLY links I have to my children in the whole WORLD. I still persist in calling them and writing them there although they never answer or return my calls, or communicate with me in any way.
A recording came on that said the number had been disconnected. I drove over there to knock on the door to ask for them. Sharon had moved. The house was empty. The for-sale sign out front said "Under Contract."
I always knew this day would arrive someday. I don't expect I'll ever have a way to reach any of my children again.