Like most children of divorce, I used to think it was my fault. I blamed myself for not keeping my younger sister quite enough on car rides and crying when you used to yell. I blamed myself for being too weak. I felt guilty because you wanted boys but I, along with my sisters were a failed attempt. I thought I could fix your broken parts if I just made one more 100 on an exam. One more perfect score, one more chore finished before you asked, one more distraction in the car so my baby sister didn't wake you up from your nap.
My mother lived by the 'one more' rule just as I did. Make sure supper is always ready as soon as you get home, always foods that were your favorite. Make sure the children never fussed while you were watching T.V. One more diaper to change so you didn't have to. One more missed job opportunity so you could have the stay-at-home wife lifestyle you saw as a badge of honor. One more concession for your ego. One more silent night to stifle your anger. One more, one more, one more.
It was always one more, one more, one more. I was convinced that 'one more' would be the one that mattered, but in the end, the "one more" you ended up taking was a lover. I hate to even use that term because what you two had was not love. It was a disgusting attempt at lust and distrust. While your "perfect" family attended a function for underprivileged youth, you slept with her. You needed one more, right?
As things came to light, my mother attempted to fix things with the "one more" rule. One more concession to be made, and one more sacrifice to appease you, but it's never enough for you. You left us in the end without much pause. You had found a new hunting ground for your fabled one more.
When you left, I did miss you, it's true, but as I've grown older, I realized I never really missed you at all, I missed the false sense of normalcy, and the perfect family dynamic everyone saw. I missed the days when people wouldn't pity me. I miss those days a lot actually. I miss the days when people weren't afraid to ask me about you, and when my mother wasn't so alone. But, altogether I only really miss the days. I don't miss tiptoeing around you, or holding my breath so I could be quieter. I don't miss constantly worrying about disappointing you, and I certainly don't miss you. You were never a father, and you were never a husband.
You used us to build your perfect little world until your narcissism choked us so tightly we couldn't breathe. Then, when the damage was crippling, you left. Your completed project lying helpless in the dirt of the shame you brought our family and the emotional turmoil that haunts us to this day. While we were very much broken when you left, we were not killed, and that was your biggest mistake. Because of your neglect, we are stronger, wiser, and finally free from "one more's".