June 6, 1992 - Before arriving at the church, I tried to call the pastor from Hartland to see if he was ready to walk me from the car. I tried five times. No one answered.
Finally at 9:15 A.M., I decided to take a chance and drove by the church. Precious minutes with the boys had already been lost. As I drove into the parking lot, I could see that they were there and their mother had left. While walking to the playground area, I noticed that the boys' mother had allowed them to bring toys with them for the first time ever during a visitation. Seeing the boys, again, was like seeing them brought back from the dead.
I wanted to say so much, but felt overwhelmed. I had to control it by allowing the boys to share what they wanted with me. The conversations were about anything and everything. Both wanted to talk simultaneously. I simply listened to them.
Among the toys they brought was their stone collection. I will always remember this, because as they talked about finding each and every stone. Meanwhile, my thoughts were on having been denied the time together to build memories.
I tried to ignore the references they made to their mother, but it was nearly impossible. This included comments like her intent to move to DeForest in August and her blaming me for having to rush them to visitations. It struck me as interesting that they had nothing pleasant to say about her. Choosing not to say anything when she came up in the conversation was the only way to go on to topics that were important to the relationship between the boys and me.
Shortly before leaving what seemed like only minutes with the boys, I spoke to the pastor about the possibility of moving the visitation to the Madison area. The boys' move to DeForest, if accurate, would make this important. He volunteered to help find someone to supervise visitations.
I was in the car and on the way out of the drive at 11:45 A.M. to avoid the boys' mother. It was hard leaving fifteen minutes early from the visitation, but it was necessary to help prevent her from making any false allegations against me ever again. Her lies had already proven devastating to the boys and me through the very fact that our lives and relationship depended on a supervised visitation.
On my way home, thoughts of all the minutes I missed and were continuing to be stolen from the boys' lives, because their mother refused to bring them fifteen minutes early and arrive fifteen minutes after a visitation, nagged at me. This, like all the other time with them, could never be replaced.
I also thought about Oliver mentioning that his mother had decided to bring went on vacations without them. They were never taken on vacations for their sake. It was ironic, since the trial judge had used that as one criterion for awarding her custody and providing substantial financial awards through the divorce. But after all, he had her perjury to use as his credibility.
Oliver had also mentioned that he wanted to know the truth about the divorce. He does not understand it considering that the result made no sense to reality. My feeling is that he does not deserve to be left wondering what had gone wrong in his life with all the circumstances placed maliciously on him through no fault of his own. The boys had the right to know what had been done to them and know who the persons were that are responsible. No one could take that away from them. Someday, when they wanted the information, it would there.