My husband was out of town for work last week.

He rarely travels for his job so this was somewhat of an anomaly.

He didn’t call home.

Not.

Once.

I really don’t understand this.

I mean I! Really! Don’t!!

I could maybe – maybe – understand him not calling me. (Though not really. We are still married, living in the same house and raising children together.) But let’s say I could understand him not calling me. After all, it’s not as if our relationship is all warm and fuzzy. More roomate and tolerate.

But his children?

His…

Children??

He didn’t call them even once.

He was gone a week.

When he got home, I asked him why he didn’t call.

He said,

“It didn’t occur to me.”

It didn’t “occur” to him?

When you are married to an addict or alcoholic, the decision to leave is a long, windy, emotionally charged one.

It’s not as simple as I myself would have believed had I not come to live it.

Guilt, grief, anger, fear, resentment….

Hope!

They are all there.

Sometimes at the very same time.

But now I see.

What I fear leaving.

Has already left me.