Two Years!

 I cannot believe it has been two years since I have written a word here.  

I had intended to end the blog at ten years, and I guess I did but I had not intended to just leave it dangling.  I had actually planned to spend the last year writing about all the positive changes and ways that I had grown through this tragedy.  I wanted to leave you with hope and inspiration and possibly take the notes and details recorded here and create a book for posterity.  Best laid plans...  None of that has happened.  

Life began to get in the way and actually when I consider that I realize that is a good thing.  Good, as in I have leaned on this blog in my worst times.  Turned to it when I had no one else or I had worn out those that would sit still to listen.  Good, as in maybe I haven't been here because I didn't need it as much and I have started to live more and think about all this less.  Not Brian, Paxton or Kara - no I still think of them all the time but "this".  The nightmare tragedy, the unfairness, the way things were left, the bitterness and anger of not ever knowing what did happen since I do not believe what they said happened.  That -- that all-consuming, life altering tragedy I feel I have somewhat left behind. Finally. I am able to actually mentally and emotionally engage in living again without that dominating my every single day.  I have always engaged physically but believe me it was NEVER off my mind and inside emotionally I was still screaming.  Going to church, smiling and carrying on as if nothing was wrong and screaming inside.  Going to the grocery store, out to eat with friends or on vacation and all the while my body one place and my heart and mind with "them".  I am a survivor.  Skills I learned as the child of two alcoholics have taught me how to "compartmentalize".  Shut down my own personal needs and keep putting one foot in front of the other and doing what was expected of me. Regardless of how I felt or what was going on in my life - just put it aside and do what I need to do.  Sick or well I continued to just "do" what was expected of me.  Always.  I went ot work sick and in pain.  I took care of a husband and three kids, did laundry, cooked dinner, chauffeured them back and forth, went to see about my mother, kept my sister's child while she was in nursing school, whatever was needed - sick or well. It wasn't a conscious choice. It was just how it always had to be.  And actually, it was such a normal, natural response until I didn't even realize I was doing that.  I just did it.  Like breathing.  I remember the first time my daughter in law Marie came to visit us after she and my son got together.  I had just had double surgery.  I had my gall bladder removed and a two-inch chunk cut out of my right breast.  And when everyone got there my daughter and her family and my son and Marie, I got up out of the bed and started fixing them something to eat. My daughter in law almost fainted.   She said "What in the world is going on?  Didn't you just get out of the hospital?!"  She told me later, "That was absolutely crazy to me, but the craziest part was that no one else seemed to notice or think anything of it! It's like it was expected!"  And truthfully, until she said something I myself had not noticed anything was wrong with it.  So am I able to compartmentalize and keep on doing what I need to be doing - oh yes.  And I have called on that bazaar skill so many times during the horror of the last twelve years.  And when I think about how I was expected to lose three members of my family in the most tragic and horrifying way and then get up every morning and get my sister her medication, fix her breakfast, make our lunches to take to the clinic for the day, gather up my computer, two purses, two lunches, bottled water, her four inch binder, then drive in Atlanta traffic to take my sister to the bone marrow clinic and sit there for six plus hours a day, every day, keep up with appointments to eight different doctors, and run her all over the city of Atlanta to those appointments, take her for CT scans, UV light treatments, bloodwork, X-rays, Radiation treatments,  keep up with a regimen of 28 prescriptions, listen to instructions, give the P.A. a full report of her condition daily, prepare meals according to what her bloodwork said she needed and keep her diabetes as much under control as possible, do all the cooking, and laundry for four people and keep her in a germ-free, bacteria-free environment.  That's a tall order for someone young and at their best.  And after my day with her was completed, I would then go upstairs and pull out my computer, sign on to work and do the remaining hours of my workday that was not done at the clinic or in the parking lot or in the lab or radiology dept. while I was waiting.  And at night when my day was done, I would retire to my closet close the door, sit in the floor and break.  I would cry in the shower.  I would cry in the car when I had a few minutes in it alone.  But I did not, could not, sit in a bone marrow clinic surrounded by pitiful sick people hooked up to I.V.'s running nuclear waste into their veins while they tried desperately to cling to life.  I sat like a Zombie, but rest assured, I did not cry.  I have sat there in that clinic and seriously contemplated suicide while smiling to a doctor and taking notes for what they expected from me next. 

I think about that now and realize how absolutely bazaar that sounds.

And I say all that to let you know how I could have absolutely gone through the first ten years doing what was expected of me all the while dying inside.  

But these past two years I have realized I am for the most part present in my life.  God has been faithful and good even in the midst of all of this.  Admittedly, I could not always see it but that did not mean He wasn't there.  

These last two years have not all been good and I have been distracted and for some reason could not write.  I lost my sister and my best friend two years ago and that kind of stopped me dead in my tracks.  She fought hard and I thank God that all that we both went through bought her ten more years.  The doctors never expected that.  She was the poster child for the bone marrow transplant treatment.  (I personally would NEVER recommend it even so.) And it was not the leukemia that took her, it was liver cancer from the leukemia treatments. It was awful and it was tragic and I miss her so much every day and yet I am so thankful that God allowed her to watch her grandchildren grow for ten more years.  Her first one, Ellen turned 18 the week before she died.  I am thankful that I had her ten extra years and most thankful for the fact that I had her with me daily for the first six months after all of this happened.  It seemed like tragedy on top of tragedy at the time and I could not see that it was actually a gift.  But I know now I would not have survived it if it hadn't been for her and me having a purpose that was larger than myself.  

So that is the first gift that I recognized.

I have become closer to Brian's older two children that I'd lost close contact with after their parent's divorce.  I was never allowed to see them and the only time I had was when Brian chose to share his four days a month with us.  I could not get close to them or really even get to know them like that.  He only got four days, and I felt terrible even asking for any of that.  He had 48 days out of 365 to be a father to his children, to let them get to know him, teach them any values or be a part of their lives - and so he cherished every precious moment of it. So, getting to know them and be a part of their grown lives now has been such a gift.

At the time this tragedy took place, I had three children of my own, three in-law children, and Paxton made my eighth grandchild --so 14 children.  I lost three and yet today, I set my Thanksgiving table for 30.  I also have a stepdaughter, son in law and two children, a stepson and daughter in law and two children. I have been graciously blessed with children.

I hesitantly and sadly left my home and church of 23 years and moved here where I was a total stranger and yet miraculously felt totally at home within a few months.  I was an hour from my sister instead of two.  Thirty minutes from my best friend of 67 years instead of 2 hours.  I am a 30-minute drive from my son's two daughters that I have never been able to be close to, and now we have developed a wonderful and precious relationship.

For the first time in our almost 50 years together, my husband and I have the precious gift of time together.  We walked into the marriage to three children.  It took both of us working long hours and driving long distances in bad traffic to make ends meet and consequently, we have really never had time together to just be with each other.  We have traveled some.  We have bought a camper and have camped together and enjoyed God's beautiful nature.  We have hiked.  We visit botanical gardens. We drive up to the mountains just for the day. We take picnic lunches and spend an afternoon at a park, we're slowing down some of our physical activities, but we still do everything together, we shop, we cook, we play board games or card games and watch movies more but still we do everything together and that has been such a gift.

I have had the gift of a friendship with Kara's mom.  She miraculously moved to within 15 miles of us and we have been able to spend precious time together - sharing a meal, celebrating a birthday or seeing a funny movie together. We share memories and our love for our children and grandchild and a pain that no one else on earth can share with us besides each other.

I have a wonderful church family that made me feel totally at home five minutes after we walked in the door and have made truly close friends that are like family to me.

God has truly been so good to me.  Even in the face of all the tragedy, when I could not see or feel Him, when I was railing at Him and confused by Him, I always knew the one thing that could make this all worse that I absolutely could not survive --was if I lost Him.  And even when I did not think He was there for me - He was carefully planning all of the above for me.

There is hope.  Life truly can come back.  It's not the same but it's good even so.  I am so thankful that even when I couldn't see Him, God never left me. 

And He won't leave you either.

Kara Brittany Sebben Miller

Today Kara would have been 40 years old.  I'm certain she could have amazed people with that fact since I know she absolutely would not have looked her age.  It has been ten years since we lost her and I still cannot believe that fact.  

Had she been here to celebrate this milestone birthday, I'm sure she would have really enjoyed a funny 40th birthday party complete with Over The Hill balloons and a basket full of "old age" necessities like: Arthritis Strength Tylenol, denture cream, Preparation H, and some really thick ugly reading glasses. We would have had fun messing with her and she would have delighted in every minute of it. 

I remember in 2013 she and I planned Brian's 40th and she had a ball thinking up all of the ugly 40 themed stuff we could do.  From the Over The Hill cake to the walker placed in front of his chair.  She had a delightful child-like sense of humor even while surprising us all with the level of maturity it took to take on two teenagers when they married.  

Brian had his oldest when he was 18 and there were 11 years between he and Kara.  That put her being stepmom to an 18-year-old when she was a babe herself at 24.  I worried about that a lot.  I did not see how on earth that would work.  Ashley turned 13 less than two weeks after they married and two teenagers at any age is difficult - two teenagers that aren't yours at 24...impossible.

How would they respect her at her age?  Would they resent her?  Would they look at her as a kid too?  They were valid concerns. It was, as they say, complicated. Ashley had basically grown up having only her dad when she was at his house.  How would she do with another female in the house?  Would she be jealous? Competitive? Resentful?  Probably.  It sounded like a disaster waiting to happen to me from the beginning.  She would barely be old enough for teenagers today at 40 but 15 years ago. No.  I'd lived a long time and seen a lot and I simply could not see it working out 30 days.

But as she tended to do from day one - she shocked me with her maturity, patience and determination. She took Ashley on like she was hers.  She helped her paint her room with hot pink splatter paint and black and white decor.  She colored and fixed her hair and showed her how to get the results she wanted with her hair when she fixed it herself.  When she turned 13, she gave her a grown-up birthday party and bought her new cute teenage clothes and a little make up kit and showed her how to apply it. Instead of competition, I think Ashley saw her as a new 'big sister'. She looked up to her and depended on her for fashion and beauty advice.  It was amazing to watch.

She seemed to know instinctively exactly how to win them both over by becoming their friend instead of a stepmom and authority over them. That is not to say that they still didn't give them both a fit - they did.  They were still teenagers.  Then I worried about her and what they were doing to her!  I knew teenagers and their typical response to this situation, but they never seemed to blame her, dislike her or resent her or if they did, I never heard of it and never saw evidence of it.  

When Paxton came along, she was so good with him.  She was so careful about what she fed him.  She didn't buy his baby food in jars, but instead got a food processor and cooked and made his baby food from fresh, preservative-free ingredients. She was kind, loving and patient with him.  She sang to him and danced with him and enjoyed every minute of him.  And though you'd think after thinking she'd never be a mother, that she would have been a little selfish with him never letting him leave her side, but she said she had had a wonderful childhood relationship with her grandparents and wanted the same for him.  She said babies needed all the love they could get and she freely let us keep him and was the sole reason that we were able to enjoy him to the level we did.

I was never allowed to have that kind of relationship with any of my other grandchildren and was only allowed to see Brian's other two when he would bring them over and share his meager four days a month with us.  I had the love of that baby absolutely because of her and her alone. And for that I am eternally grateful.

I love you. I miss you. I am so thankful for you.  Happy 40th birthday Kara.

The Tenth Anniversary

 It is almost impossible to believe that it has been ten long years since the day that changed so many lives forever. 

What surprises me is that this still seems so fresh sometimes and never far from my thoughts.  It is better in so many ways.  I get on with life.  I enjoy things again something I couldn't imagine just a few years ago.  I don't want to die every day anymore.  We went out of town again for this anniversary and I'd like to say after ten years we really enjoyed the trip.  Subconsciously, I'm sure it was meant to be a distraction (yeah, I'm still pulling that) but of course you are not going to just let the ten-year anniversary just slide. But thank God, it didn't wreck me.  I've had quite a year and that may be why.  My heart was elsewhere.  My sister and my best friend died just 31 days shy of her ten-year anniversary of being diagnosed with Leukemia.  She was the one person that never forgot the day; never failed to acknowledge it with me and always knew my heart.  She had a long hard road and it about killed all of us.  I still cannot imagine how I will live life without her.

We had to have our 12-year-old dog put down three weeks before she died.  And she was the one that had gotten him for us after we lost the kids.  I was so busy trying to help with her and so grieved over her until I barely had the brain cells and emotional bandwidth to share with that loss.  So, he did not get the grief that he deserved.  He too, had a rough year and my heart was broken but my time and attention belonged to her.

And I have finished my second draft of the book. I was hoping to have it completed by the tenth anniversary, but her illness took priority.  

I can't believe that this is also the ten-year anniversary of this blog.  No way when I started this would I have ever believed I would still be doing this ten years later.  Could not imagine living ten years actually.  But it truly has been a lifeline to me.  It has given me a place to grieve, to love, to process all that this has been.  I have lived in anonymity for going on 8 years since we moved here. Doing so has given me peace and a chance at a normal life but keeping secrets is very destructive and it has kept me feeling isolated and alone in this.  The blog has been my main source of how I've dealt with it all because of that.  My family all tired of hearing about it long ago.  I have a new church family and new neighbors and new friends and none of them know.  So, there is no talking it over with them or hashing out some new scenario or talking about Brian or how the baby has been on my heart all day.  I was able to talk to my sister on rare occasions, but she has had so much on her until I felt guilty bringing up my junk so most times I didn't.  Sometimes I can talk to my granddaughter.  She is always willing to listen but I feel like she is not the appropriate person to be unloading on.  My husband still listens as he is a captive audience, bless his heart, but I see his eyes glaze over the minute I mention anything about it.  And sometimes I have Kara's mom, but it is hard for us to talk about it too.  Even though I know that she feels the same things that I do and she would be the one person that would understand still grieving at the ten-year mark. She is a mother.  So, I know she does. And we are better.  So much better.  Both of us.  But we know for sure now the truth that we both I'm sure suspected from the beginning --this is forever.  

Most of my church family eight years in, do not even know we've lost a child or grandchild if you can believe that.  I can't answer the questions that are sure to follow so I literally hide the biggest thing that ever happened in my life.  Talk about an elephant in the room! I feel like I am the biggest liar ever.  Pulling off this deception but I cannot risk the fallout, so I still have not let it out.  I feel like a dog not acknowledging my children.  And it feels like I'm choking to death sometimes trying to keep it in.  I feel like if I could just let it all out, just be honest about who I really am what I've lost and grieve openly for my children --I would feel so free. But it isn't just me involved.  Donald loves the church and if it turned out like I fear - he'd lose that too.  We just cannot take anymore loss.  I know I'm not being very trusting but that comes from experience.  It seems like it's kind of too late to tell it now like that ship has sailed.  

This blog has been pretty much my only outlet.  

  

Today would have been their 15th Anniversary

 It's so hard to believe.  Fifteen years ago, today they walked down my driveway to a flower-covered gazebo, surrounded by all their friends and family and promised "to love, honor and cherish till death do you part..."  Little did we know death would part them just a short five years later. 

They were out celebrating their fifth anniversary the last time I kept Paxton, and he sang "Haddy Dirtday" to me.  It's been a long, hard ten years and I've aged a lot more than 10 birthdays worth.

Ten long years riddled with sadness and loss.  

And May 27th, I lost my sister. One month and one day shy of her 10-year anniversary of being diagnosed with leukemia.  She managed to beat the leukemia but the effects of bone marrow transplant and the resulting Graft Versus Host Disease took a full eight years and October 2023 she was diagnosed with stage four liver cancer --- one of the side effects of all of the previous treatments. 

Grieving her has been different but every grief is.  Sad to say but after the "Freight Train" plowed through my life not much can top that.  But it was an awful loss or should I say another awful loss.  She has been my best friend all of my life and she and I have been through so much together.  I feel like I lost a huge part of who I am and I'm not sure in fact who I am without her.  She was my rock and has been such a huge encourager and my true north.  It was a horrific final month. Leaving us all with mixed emotions.  Seeing her like she was and knowing she could never get any better literally made it a relief when death finally came.  And I do look at things differently now.  The world is in such an awful mess now until I truly feel she is the lucky one.  And she knew that too. 

And as much as I've thought I knew all there was to know about grieving and loss - I find that I am still falling into a deep ditch of denial.  I have not faced the loss yet and it's been over a month.  I am hiding from it with useless, mindless activities the only difference is that now I recognize it for what it is - and still cannot seem to do anything about it.  I am afraid to look it full in the face.  As I said it has been ten years of many losses and I just don't know how much more I can stand.  

I'm sure, that I had experienced some of the grief ahead of time during the eight months that we knew about the cancer and found out there was to be no treatment and during that last month I was there with her several times a week and the last week, every day. I saw and experienced the worst that I have ever seen, and I will carry that vision with me till I am with her again.  But it makes me know one thing though and I can put that question to rest. I have always felt very guilty and always worried that I should have gone to see Brian, Kara and Paxton at the Coroner's office to say my goodbyes and tell them I loved them.  But I just could not. I felt like such a coward, but my survival instinct kept me from it.  I wasn't sure I would survive it anyway but always knew if I ever had to look at them, I would not. I have often been sorry I didn't go and grieved wishing that I had.

No.  I do not.  

I am glad that the last memory I have of them is sweet and the last picture I have of them all in my mind is one I want to treasure.  The one I have of her will haunt me forever and I had no choice but to be there and face it because I had to be there for her as best I could.  I ran away from the horror of seeing them, but I could not run from this.  

Losing her was and is awful because I will miss her in my life for the rest of my life.  But the death, the grieving, the inner feelings they are all so different.  God has given me the strength I prayed for. And for that I am eternally grateful.  

What does not kill you absolutely does make you stronger.

March madness

Yesterday would have been Brian's 51st birthday and though I did as I have for the last nine years, I had two weeks of funk prior to his actual birthday.  And it took me until almost the day of his birthday to realize what was causing it.  It was just an overwhelming sadness that there appeared to be no reason for --until I remembered it was yet again March.  I felt it but there was a little something different this year in that although the sadness was there when I realized it and acknowledged it --I just let it come. I sat with it, I let it wash over me, I gave it a little space in my life.  But I didn't let it overtake me.  I didn't cry.  And once I recognized it and let it have its space, I was good.  And on the actual day of his birthday, I had a relatively normal average day.  

That was huge. 

Ten years since the last birthday that I ever got to spend with him; a milestone and yet it was a pretty good day.  Four people contacted me and acknowledged it and let me know they were thinking of me and that was so nice but there was no sadness surrounding it.  I mentioned it casually and remembered him of course but it didn't consume my day or my emotions.

Last week I dreamed about him.  A pretty rare thing though I'm not sure why.  I always long to dream of him but just don't.  But last week was also a first in that I dreamed about him, and it was just a normal day with him in the dream.  Usually in any dreams I have had of him, I seem to know that he is really gone even though I am with him.  I want to talk to him at length.  I want to ask questions.  I want to relish every second of my time with him and it always seems to fly too quickly.  It always seems like 'unfinished business' or like I want to hold onto him because subconsciously I am aware that my time with him is rare and limited.  But not this time.  This time the dream was just an average everyday dream that he was a part of.  Like when he was living, and I spent an average day with him.  I didn't think about missing him or losing him or needing to hold him there for just a few minutes longer.  We went about an average day, and he just happened to be a part of it.  That was huge to me.  Just huge.  It felt normal for the first time in so many years.  I awoke.  I remembered the dream.  And it did not make me sad.  I didn't feel that terrible longing.  It did not dominate the next several days or even that day! 

Of course, even though both of those things are big, I have lived with grief long enough to know not to take that as an indication that this is over for good and that his next birthday won't just wreck me or that the next time, I dream of him I won't again cry for the day and be sad for days on end.  But it does indicate that though grief comes, goes and then comes back again I now know too that when it shows progress and heads in a direction of healing it may circle back a time or two but praise God, it gets there eventually.  So it is still cause for feeling hopeful and optimistic.  

I just had a friend describe it pretty accurately.  She said that grief kind of moves in a 'figure 8' fashion.  And she should know, she lost her husband and soul mate after 25 years of marriage to a heart attack almost 20 years ago.  So she is seeing it from a 20-year perspective.  And that sounds about right.  It moves upward like it is going in the right direction for a while.  You come to a high place and think you are completely out of the weeds and then it starts across and then back down crisscrossing, flirts with the bottom and then starts back up again. 

You move through it one small accomplishment at a time.  It is still there but you've conquered one milestone - at first, they are small milestones like the first time you can casually walk past their favorite food in the grocery store and just go on with your shopping.  Then one day you can look at their picture and it doesn't make you cry.  And pretty soon you remember something amusing they said or did and you actually begin to laugh about it.  So, they are baby steps for sure. Then one day you hit a bigger milestone -- like a dream that doesn't wreck you.  

And sure, you may wind and twist about and still have your unexpected small things that cause a meltdown, but you find that one day when you least expect it --you realize you've conquered a birthday!  

 

2014 - 2024 --Ten Years! How is that possible?

I find it almost impossible to believe that we are now going into our tenth year since we lost Brian, Kara and Paxton. No way did I think that we still would not know the truth about what happened 10 years later.

Ten Years!  

And I'm not sure but I think ten years is long enough.  I think I am going to make this my final year of posting on the blog.  Seems like a good time to say goodbye.  And finally cease with logging my thoughts, emotions and grief over this tremendous loss.  In ten years I should have told the story, processed the grief, learned the lessons, uncovered the insights.  Told our side of how this horrific tragedy along with the speedy determination of murder/suicide has affected us.  Let anyone that never knew him, know who Brian was before the tragic day that now defined his life. I should have revealed the injustices we faced through law enforcement, let anyone that cared know why we never believed this story and told you of the inconsistencies and loose ends that we knew about that no one else ever heard. 

I have beat that dead horse enough already and there is very little left to say about all of that that has not already been said.

So, in this 10th and final year, I hope to spend our time together telling how I have healed even through the ups and downs.  Letting you  know how my faith survived in spite of what seemed to me like insurmountable odds.  I want you to know the lessons I've learned through catastrophic grief. I want to tell you what insights God has revealed to me through this and how I have grown through this.  I hope to let you know what good has come in spite of this and what good may have come because of this.  And I am sure as we go through 2024 - our last year together I will still be learning and growing and hope to pass on those things that may benefit you as well.  

I want to let you know what I have done that has worked to help me through this and what I have tried that has not.  And let you know how I have hopefully helped others because of this so should you ever face a tragedy that you think you cannot survive you might remember that I did and you can know which paths to take and which to avoid.  And that you might know going in that though it will be hard and it may seem impossible - if I could survive it, so can you.

I want you to know that your faith will be tested beyond what you ever thought possible and though it may not look the same as it used to -- it can survive.  It can even strengthen and grow.  I want you to understand that sometimes God can be right there with you, holding you, protecting you and you can still be unaware of it in that moment.  It was always the absolute most important thing to me from day one of this that my faith survive.  

I want you to know how your relationship with grief changes over time and that was something I could not know until I had walked with it and lived in it ten years.  Some things you only learn from seeing them in the rear view mirror.  Some lessons and some insights can only be seen from a distance.  And you need that perspective to see them clearly.

I want to update you this year on chronic, sporadic depression - and the ups and downs of grief ten years out.

Over these ten years if you've followed me here you've likely already realized one thing you may not have already known -- that grief could last ten long years. Even that is a lesson that could benefit you one day. When you wonder as I did - if this is normal.  When you are discouraged, confused and find yourself asking on a regular basis: What's wrong with me?  Am I going crazy?  When will this ever end?

And I want you to know that for the most part of this ten long years it remained the second most important thing to me that someday we would find out the truth about what happened.  And I want you to know where I stand with that today ten years later.

So hopefully, I can spend the next several months relating all of this in hindsight and if it has helped you or helped you see things like this in a different perspective then I have accomplished what I set out to do.

Here's wishing you all a happy and healthy 2024!  

Catastrophic Grief Makes You Crazy

It really does.  

Need proof?

Crazy - like keeping an open, half drank Pepsi in your fridge for two years and only tossing it as you move.  (Hey, at least I didn't pack it.)

Crazy - like tripping over a houseful of toys scattered everywhere for six months after there was no one under 40 that even visited. (And sadly, yes, I will cop to the fact that did pack some of them.)

Crazy - like getting that "deer in the headlights" look every time someone asks how many kids I have.

Crazy - like nine years later still not knowing how to answer that question. 

Crazy - like when I finally tell someone I lost my son, I never say "and my grandson and my daughter in law" which makes me feel awful but I know if I do there will be questions that I can't answer.

Crazy - like breaking off the closest friendship you've ever had - screaming that you never want to hear from her ever again.  And then crying because you miss her so much - for nine years.

Crazy - like bursting into tears in Walmart when you pass by baby shoes, Hot Wheels cars, pumpkin pie, eggnog, a box of Rice Krispie Treats or losing it in the checkout line over a pack of Skittles. 

Crazy - like postponing an appointment with a surgeon made for the 24th of August.  A surgeon! 

Crazy - like having a hard time planning or doing anything on the 23rd of any month because in my mind I have 12 anniversaries of their death every year.  Yeah - that's crazy.

Crazy - like unconsciously looking up and noting the time at 3:15 (March 15) on any clock I pass every single day and stopping to think about Brian

Crazy - like noticing the numbers 315 on phone numbers, signs, car tags, addresses etc.

Crazy - like stalking and snapping pictures of a total stranger in Chick Fil A because he looks so much like Brian till its spooky.  Realizing that's crazy and doing it anyway.

Crazy - like thinking every single dark haired girl with Italian features on TV looks just like Kara

Crazy - like seeing a man that looks like Brian going into a store and actually seriously wondering what Brian was doing in South Carolina! Because for just a moment I forgot - five years after he died.

Crazy - like going into a funk and crying on and off the entire month of March --for nine years.

Crazy - like waking up at or close to 4:00 A.M. almost every single morning for nine long years - when you are retired!

Crazy - like binge-watching crime shows trying to find a scenario that fits or a similar scenario that disproves the story we were given.

Crazy. 

It makes you just plain crazy.