Wise Mr Owl how many times can a heart be broken and put back together before it doesnt work.

When my grandmother died, I was the one that went and bought her a dress to be buried in.  Not my father....not my aunt.  I knew what Grandma liked and I wanted to do it.  Kind of like our last shopping trip.  See my grandmother was a pretty awesome grandma.  I remember our first shopping trip we flew into Chicago for one day.  She had me do chores around the house so I could have spending money.  We went to the mall bought some clothes and came home.  I loved it.  So this in my eyes was my last shopping trip with Grandma.

When I brought the dress over for my Aunt to give to the funeral home.  I told her that I would like to see Grandma get buried with one of her cameos.  She loved her cameos and collected them.


I went through Grandma's cameos to find the one that looked great on the dress I got her.  I picked one out and put it on the dress.  This is all I did.

The day before our announcement/celebration lunch, I get a call from my father.  I am excited.  In about a day I get to tell my father he is going to be a grandpa.  However he had other plans.  I guess my aunt had phoned him and told him that several cameos were missing.  He then begin to tell me 'I know how you are' and 'you expect things so you just take with out thinking'.  He just continued on and on again.  I was in the middle of Sam's club crying hysterical as my father raked me over the hot coals.  Finally Shane had had enough and took the phone from me.  He told my father in the calmest way that only Shane has that "this was enough".    I was so angry, confused, hurt and a spectrum of feelings that I had enough.  I grabbed the phone back and told him that I didn't do it and Happy Grandfathers day and hung up on him.  I called him back to tell him that I will not be spoken that way again and all he had to say was "If I ever see Shane again he is dead!"  I then hung up.

So I have to ask how many times can a father hurt their child without caring.  Without trying to make it right.  Without.....feeling.  Once again my heart is shattered.  The man that is my father has once again hurt me and left me wounded.  How many more times can a heart be surrendered up on a skewer for the flames.  How many times can it be gnashed at and ripped at.  How many?!?!?!?!