One of the hardest things is definitely moving on when there’s a missing piece from your life.
It’s hard to move on sometimes, it’s hard to accept someone wants nothing to do with you, it’s even harder when it’s a family member.
Sometimes in life you have to accept that it doesn’t matter how much you try, sometimes people just don’t want to be in your life anymore. It’s hard to understand how you can break off from family like that, pretend they never existed.
It hard not holding resentment against someone who has done you wrong but only has the ability to see where you did them wrong. It’s hard to believe people have no forgiveness or love for their family, too much pride to even compromise.
To me family is family, it breaks my heart that we have to live like this. That I’m missing out on special moments.
The hardest bit of all is seeing the affect it has on my family, we’ve been torn apart, yet we all try our best to put on a good front, pretend it doesn’t bother us. It does.
In some ways it would be easier for us all if the person was dead, not that I would wish that on them. Living in constant dread at the thoughts of the way life has turned upside down isn’t ideal, and holding on to hope for reconciliation is no way to live.
It turns out you can grow up with a person, know them all your life and still know nothing about who they really are. That’s the scariest bit of all. I look at them now and don’t even recognise the person they’ve become. Full of anger, bitterness and hatred towards the people who’ve always loved them. Yet we’d still forgive them in an instant if they needed us.
Part of me will always have hope, but deep down I know nothing will ever change. I lost a brother and a friend nearly 3 years ago, and I’m still trying to find a way to deal with that.