Routine

I've never been much for routines.  Every day I try to Skype and read a story to my kids, but every day there is something going on that only serves to underscore how unnatural and wrong it is for a father and his children to interact across unnecessary miles, and unfeeling media.  I have been deployed many times, I have been away, and I have spent holidays, birthdays, and such in misery far away from friends and family, but never for a choice that I made, or an action I could have avoided.  Never for a purpose I designed.  I am thankful for something, anything that brings me closer to them in some form, but I am starting to hate anything that reminds me that I am now relegated to secondary parent. 
I have been pushed out of my true role by the whim of my former wife and her desire to relocate.  I am resentful of having to allow it and support it, without question or consideration for my sacrifice or the example I've established as a father and a provider.  My role now is to provide the lifestyle chosen by the one who so completely destroyed my life who's taken from me the only thing I ever held more important than my honor, but perhaps that's why she's done it.  Maybe she doesn't realize that she was part of it, but I think it's more than that.. 
I am forced to contemplate this new reality as incontrovertable, yet the capricious manner in which it has been executed by the state and representatives of law gives me pause like I've never experienced before.  How obtuse to so detachedly create and enforce policy so generally toxic to families.  Why is it legal for her to just take my children from me?  Who's justice is this? 
I will have to move the world to change it.  To function as a father and role model should, I will have to rearrange the way things are done, and prove myself worthy to people whose opinion matters not at all but for the context of their position in the law.  I know my conduct and example to my children has been above reproach, but some smug bastard in an office removed from comprehension of that passes judgement with my former spouse on how often I can see them, and for how long.  By what failure of conscience and integrity does a person feel they should determine my access and interaction with my children?  What flaw in character could possibly account for this?  It galls me to no end that she assumes entitlement to determine this.  I question how I ever trusted and loved her.  What kind of a person could do this to another?
My positive influence and parental guidance must now somehow be communicated across hundreds of miles through the barest minimal contact, and over the period of a few minutes a day to my beautiful daughters, who have begun to slip farther into their own routines and habits without me.  Eventually the conflict and resentment over the very thing I so desperately cling to as a lifeline of our relationship will break.  It will be all I can do to maintain my composure to preserve our relationship, but I must.  I have seen it all play out.
This should not be.  What perversion of justice requires that I should beg for time with my beloved children?  What twisted vehicle of fate throws me out from my own home, punishes for no wrong or impropriety and steals my children from me?
I am unable to express how deeply I revile this, my new life.