Serious Writers Block

When I first began this blog I barely knew what a blog was.  To me, it started as an online journal.  Private at first and I had always intended for it to stay that way.  To me, it was a way to process all that had happened, all we had been told, all that we had lost, all that we couldn't talk about, all that I needed to get out of me.  I seemed to be "filled" to overflowing with emotions that I could not get out. Anger, confusion, deep, all-consuming sadness.  And there were so many questions hanging in midair that had nowhere to fall. 

I was also caring for my sister and sitting in the bone marrow clinic 5 days a week from 6 to 12 hours a day and trying to work my job in the evenings after things settled down.  I could not get a counselor to even answer my calls but if I had, there were not enough hours in the day to see one.  So this was "my" self-care my own answer to therapy.  This was my safe place to fall.  When the day was done with my sister and she was settled, when my work hours were logged, when everyone was fed and the kitchen straightened up - this was my time.  My time to cry, to talk about Brian, to express my confusion and scream out my anger, to question, to process - right here.  I looked forward to my time with my writing like a lifeline.  Nothing could make me skip it. It was key to my survival.  

I was so angry at the whole mess until I couldn't stand myself.  I was throwing terrible temper fits.  Screaming and throwing things and snapping at all the people I loved. All I could think about was how could anyone that really knew Brian ever, ever believe he did this.  It was all consuming.  And it was killing me that none of his accusers even knew him nor did they make the effort to even try.  After the official determination even those that had known him suddenly seemed to forget the person that he had always been, the dad he had always been. Never once in his entire life had he ever laid a hand on any woman not even the wife that tormented him for 18 years. 

All of his talents, his work ethic and abilities, his quick wit and keen sense of humor, all of his comical antics and practical jokes, his dedication to learning the bible prophecies, his love and dedication to his children for over 20 years --all of his previous life, any and all good he had ever done had been laid to waste. Erased in a moment even sadly, by some that knew him best. 

I decided I could not allow the general public to just believe what they were told about him without ever having known him or given him the chance to defend himself.  Although I had not wanted to make my pain, my anger and my devastation public and lay myself vulnerable to the biased scrutiny and wrath of the general public. And I knew from what people were saying on public forums I was opening myself up to the possibility of more pain and judgment - but I was Brian's mom.  Still - Brian's Mom. Now and forever and if I were his only ally and only defender then I would take it public and if I accomplished nothing else the general public would at least know a little of the Brian I knew.  I refused to let him be thought of only as a monster tried and found guilty in a court of public opinion without ever giving him a chance at a defense.  He may carry that title as I'm sure he will but some small part of me hoped and prayed that they would read enough of who he was to us before that god-awful August day erased all the good in his life.  Maybe if even, one would see him as a person with feelings, as an employee with goals, as a funny, talented, hard-working single dad trying to be both mom and dad to two children alone for 12 years, as my funny, goofy loving son, as a betrayed, devastated husband that lost his home, his wife, his children and his confidence in one fell swoop. If I could bring him to life for even one person and let them see him, know him before that day - then I had to try.

That one day erased his future.  I couldn't stand idly by and let it erase his past as well.  I couldn't stand knowing that all that he was up to that day counted for nothing.

I kept thinking of how it would feel if I were accused of some terrible, tragic crime that I did not commit and how awful it would be for everyone to believe I was guilty.  And I thought how I would at least be comforted in knowing that those people that loved me and knew me best would stand by me and would "know" without a shadow of a doubt that I was innocent.  I would know that no matter what the public thought the people closest to me, in my inner circle who knew who I had been up to that day -- to those people --I would not need to prove my innocence.  I would assume that my previous life, my history with them, all that I stood for and all that I had ever done right in my life --would be proof enough.  And I thought about who I was - Brian's mom - having to look him in the face someday and tell him I believed he was capable of something so horrific.  The person that knew him best; the one that knew all his faults, his fears, his weaknesses, his strengths, his beliefs, his good side, his moody side --all of him.  I just kept thinking about how he would feel to know I believed he was guilty.  I knew him.  The public didn't know him, but I knew him.  I had to stand up for him.  I had to be his voice.  I had to let others know a little of the person I knew then they could judge at least a little more fairly.  

At a bare minimum I hope I have done that.  

The blog began to take on a life of its own.  It was my way of processing.  It was my way of letting others know Brian.  It was my way of honoring and remembering all that Kara and Paxton were to me.  It was my first way of communicating with Kara's mom when I wanted desperately to contact her but was afraid to call.  I didn't know what was right and I wanted to be respectful and give her - her space always painfully aware of what she was going through and that in her eyes we, my family caused her pain.  I was also aware of the possibility of anger and even hatred at all of us. I so wanted to let her know how devastated I was for her and her family's loss.  When she asked my daughter if she could read the blog - it did what I never expected, it opened the door to a friendship.  And in some strange way she found comfort in what I wrote.  So, I wrote. And while I had spent my entire life writing suddenly that was all I could write. And now...well I can't even seem to write here either. Not sure if writing will ever come back to me.  I pray that it will.  In the meantime, I will just always be thankful that before it left me, I would be introduced to Praise and Worship music, I would find a dear friend in Kara's mom, she would find some comfort in my written word, and I could find peace and solace as I always have --in words right here.  

Four Years

I just realized this is my first post of 2018.

So hard to believe it has been four years now.  I keep thinking back to our first Grief-Share meeting.  The lady running the meeting Susan had lost her beautiful son to an automobile accident and it had been "four years" right where we are now.  I remember she and her husband both teared up as they told their story of the loss of their precious son --Garrett.  For some reason I was terrified by that.  I was in so much pain and panic and all I could think about was when will I get some relief.  Their tears told me what I now know to be the truth - there is no relief.  It is less intense - yes, but you could hardly call that relief.  The deep, abiding pain is ever-present.  Four years later there is not a single day that goes by that they are not all on my mind.  Not all day - but everyday.

The first year I would have never have expected to still be playing scenarios over in my head constantly.  That first year I was incredibly naive as I had nothing to compare this to.  I thought "if" I lived through that first year that surely by four years I would have incorporated even this horrific loss into my life and begun to heal and move forward and find that "beauty from ashes" that everyone speaks of.  But the truth is - I didn't think I'd live through it.  Like I said on my very first post, I figured I would just try and postpone the inevitable as long as possible. Which brings me to what keeps me up nights now - the fact that I never saw any of them.  I never went to the house, never went to the scene - not even still four years later can I even drive down the street or go into the area.  I never went to the coroners office.  I never went to the funeral home except to make the arrangements but never to see them.  They were all cremated and it is my understanding that none of us ever saw any of them.

That seems so wrong. More so everyday.

The guilt at times totally consumes me.  I feel like I just walked away and deserted them, left them all alone. Abandoned them. It seems wrong and it seems weird for a mother not to want to see and touch and say "goodbye" to her child --but the human survival instinct is soooooo strong.  I had no reason to ever know how strong.  But it is so strong that even when you want to die - you still "try" to live?  How does that happen?

And I knew.  Absolutely knew.  That I could not survive that. I am a weak coward I know but I knew I could never "see" any of them and continue to live.  I could not look at the terror of this full in face and ever get that picture out of my head.  I could not look at that finality, that unfathomable horror. That all by itself would have killed me.  And killing me instantly vs dying of this horrific sadness and the terror that would bring on --are two different things.

This way - the cowardly way, at least there was a chance I'd survive it.  There of course is no closure but it allows me to live with the illusion - when I need it - that it is not really true.  Good or bad you survive it the best you can.

But it kills me still.

I can't complete this and not recognize Kara here.

Tomorrow would have been Kara's 34th birthday.  Four years later the hurt is so raw because her beautiful life was cut short by the unimaginable.

I texted with her Mom the day before the four year anniversary.  We have an unusual bond and strange relationship I guess.  But we seem to find comfort in each other.  She is the one and only person that feels this loss with me from a mother's perspective.  And so still we cling to each other.  So this is for you.

Kara Brittany Miller

Happy Birthday my pretty girl.  We all miss you so much.