Nine Years...

Oh my gosh I cannot believe that today was nine years ago that they found my son, my daughter in law and my 2 1/2 year old grandson shot to death in their home - the home we helped them purchase three years prior.  How my husband and I now wonder and fear that somehow that contributed to this tragedy  

Nine years later that still sounds too bazaar to be real.  Nine years.  Never would I have imagined a grief that could last nine years and I am so thankful I did not know that then.  I can't help but think about where I was exactly nine years ago at this time of day.  I was sitting in church waiting for Sunday School to begin.  I was already calling Brian and then Kara worried about them because I had not heard anything from them and they had not shown up for the visit that he called me Friday evening to schedule.  By this time, I had called both at least twice.  This time 9:50 am Sunday morning August 24, 2014 - I was still blissfully unaware of the freight train that was about to plow through my life and the lives of so many others.  Innocently, I was only slightly concerned that no one answered my calls and that they never showed up the day before because they could have gotten tied up at the birthday party they were to attend first.  I am unaware at this time that they never attended the birthday party for the six year old next door and that the carefully chosen and beautifully wrapped gift was sitting abandoned on their coffee table in their living room.  I was as yet unaware that Kara's mom had been actively trying to reach them at this point for more than 24 hours.  And she was unaware that her birthday would be the last time that she would ever hear her precious daughter's voice.  And that her birthdays from this day forward would never be an occasion to celebrate but a reminder of that birthday.  Brian's oldest son's birthday was the 25th and so at a very young age, his future birthdays will only be a reminder of his worst birthday.

One hour before, I had been in my closet obsessing over which shoes to wear and wondering what I could have for dinner when Brian and Kara finally made it over Sunday evening as that was the backup plan. Feeling a little concern I still refused to give in to the panic that was quietly making its way from the pit of my stomach to my throat where it threatened to strangle me as I suddenly recalled the strange incident that happened Saturday morning at exactly 4:00 AM  when I sat straight up in bed from a sound sleep and burst into tears for no known reason.  There was a reason that was yet unknown to me. And after I remembered that the panic was hard to hold back.  I tried several more times to call during the fifteen minute break between Sunday School and church.  I even left a desperate message for Brian that said, whatever was going on he needed to call and let me know they were okay or I was sending the police - which I assumed would prompt an irritated but immediate response.  It did not.  

After church several members were going to go grab a burger and enjoy an hour or so of fellowship. Chiding me for the panic I felt they finally convinced us to go. I could not keep my mind on anything.  I kept trying to call.  While waiting for my meal I thought to call my brother who lived just a few miles from Brian to see if he would run by and check on things.  He did and called me back to say that both cars were in the driveway but he could not get anyone to the door.  By now I was in a full blown panic attack and the friends we were sitting with insisted they drive us over and put my mind at ease.  I refused.  I knew - without knowing, that it would not put my mind at ease and I wanted to put off knowing as long as I could.  If I didn't go and didn't know I could live in my blissful innocence a little longer. 

Then I called my daughter.  She and Brian were very close and Kara was like the sister she never had.  I knew if they had just gone with friends somewhere she would know.  She assured me since they'd been going to the little girls next door's birthday on Saturday they probably just stepped next door for a bit.  That eased my mind just a tiny bit and she said she was close and could be there in ten minutes and she'd call me when she got in touch with them.  Then she mentioned that Kara's mom had also called her to see if she knew where they could be.  Twenty minutes or so passed as I sat on pins and needles and she called - and now I detected panic in her voice too.  She said, “something is wrong.  No one is coming to the door and I cannot see any movement inside the house.”  She confirmed that both cars were still in the driveway and that she thought they may have been gone with friends until she realized Paxton's car seat was still in the back of Kara's car.  She said she went next door and talked to the neighbor and not only were they not there but that they never showed up for the birthday party on Saturday like they'd planned.  She then said she noticed that the one and only ground level window behind the shrubs was "open" just a little.  It looked locked but had not been pushed all the way down so it would appear locked but was actually open.  She said, "Mom, Brian would never leave a window open and unlocked."  We both knew he was a fanatic about locking doors. She asked if she should climb in and check the house.  I said, much louder than was necessary - "NO! Absolutely not."  She said, "Well, what do I do now Mom?  I'm worried something is wrong."  I told her to call Paulding County police and I repeated, "no matter what  - Do not go in that house.”  It was at that point I knew. Then I asked her to put her husband on the phone and I repeated to him - "David, do not let her go in that house!"  

By that time our friend and my husband had arrived at Brian’s house.  They dropped me and his wife off and went to ease my mind.  I sat wringing my hands and praying for a miracle.  When I had not heard back from my husband or my daughter I knew something bad was wrong.  I called both and got no answer. I knew they did not want to tell me on the phone. My husband finally answered and said I'm on my way home.  I screamed “What?  What is it?”  He said, it's bad but I will talk to you when I get home.  I looked up to see our preacher coming in the door.  I knew they had called him to get here as fast as he could.  I remember screaming at him "What is it?  What has happened?"  He kept saying, "I don't know.  I don't know.  I just know it's bad."  At that, my legs buckled and I hit the floor and started screaming.  A lot after that was a blur.  I don't know if it was ten minutes or two hours and I don't remember when or how just that I looked up and my bedroom where I had retreated to was full of the women from the church, my husband, my daughter and eventually Brian's two oldest children as they made their way from Carrollton and Jasper.  

All I could think about was wishing I could go back.  Praying I would wake from this horrific nightmare and go back to the morning when shoes were my biggest concern.  Back to the innocence of life before nothing would ever be the same again.  Back to the Sundays when Paxton and I played hide and seek behind the throw pillows and pushed his firetruck back and forth across the den floor.  Back to when Brian's birthday was a celebration for my youngest son and not a week of crying and depression.  Back to family Christmases again with all of its crazy scheduling issues around ex-wives time constraints.  Back to July a few days before my birthday and the last time I was able to keep Paxton before my sister got out of the hospital and Paxton was singing "Haddy Dirtday" to me while Brian and Kara were out celebrating their 5th wedding anniversary.  Back to blissful, innocence before grief took over my life and my faith was tested beyond what I ever imagined.  Back to before in my grief and anger I pushed away my best friend of over 30 years. Back to before we became "those people" to the community we'd been a part of for 23 years. And before we had to leave our church of over 20 years, our home, our neighbors, our friends, my daughter and moved 100 miles away to a life of isolation and anonymity simply to be able to try and survive what I was sure would eventually kill me.

I have survived it.  Nine years today.  Thank God.  It still hurts of course and always will but with God's help I am better.  Better than I ever thought I'd be.  The move and the anonymity were hard but they were the only way I survived and not only survived but in many ways thrived too.  We have a new church, new home, new friends, new church family, rekindled our relationship with grandchildren that have lived over 100 miles away all of their lives.  Kara's mom and I have developed a relationship that even we don’t understand. And though we no longer have Christmas like we used to - thanks to the request that first year of Brian's only daughter, we have a huge wonderful, family Thanksgivings and we now let Christmas be what it should be - a celebration of Christs birth.  We have great grandchildren that we love and enjoy and though we will never stop loving or missing the ones we lost we try to rest in knowing they are actually better off than we are and we look forward to seeing them all again someday soon.