8 Years 1 Day

On Feb. 14^th, I found myself sipping hot coffee and eating a muffin in a coffee shop at the Los Angles International Airport. It was my 8^th wedding anniversary.  I was alone and some 2,200 miles away from the man I love.

But sitting beside him made me feel like we were contents apart so....

You see, I was taking an airplane back to Ohio for our Final Divorce Hearing.

Feb 15^th, my husband, okay so he was still my husband for at least a couple of hours, he met me at the bank. We signed over the cars and promised to meet in an hour at the courthouse.

One hour later he exits the elevator on floor three and hands me our son's Christmas stocking. It was a nice gesture. My mom made everyone in the family personalized crossed stitched stockings. Husband knew they meant a lot to us all. Guess I accidently left it behind during my - we have too much stuff and it's gonna cost me what? to ship this via the movers? - moments in December.

When we went in front of the judge, as hubby was suing me for divorce he and his lawyer went first.

Then my lawyers asked me, "Kathleen, do you agree with what [hubby] said?"

I responded with much confidence, "I believe [hubby] believes we are now incompatible ..." (I had counter sued him for "Irreconcilable differences" and the Judge had read these and the rest of my counter charges) I then looked up at the judge, "and so I agreed to give him a divorce." Okay, so the judge's eyes twinkled a little and was that small smile I saw?

There were only 5 questions to be answered.

The final one was, "What did you want your name to be changed to?"

Okay, so I proudly answered this question and I did get a noticeable smile from the judge.

"I want my name changed back to the name I was born with Kline, K-L-I-N-E."

The judge's oldest daughter hug out with my son hence the judge also knew that my kids and I would now be able to go under the same name again (the kids went by my maiden name, not their step-dad's) and there was a smidge of a smile from a lady who uses her married name. But there was a smidge of a smile none-the-less.

The Judge granted my request.

In the wake of the murder of my son my marriage was killed too.  But the love does not die just becuase the hubby is not able to stay married. I shall do my best to find the positive parts about this additional death, death of my marriage. I will. I will.

Oh well... at least now I will not be distracted by my marriage falling apart when it comes to standing up for my son at his murderer's trial. There's one good outcome. Right. There is one good thing. 

The murderer cannot take the love I feel for my son, nor the love I feel for my, now, ex-husband away from me. I will not give him that much control in my life. 

Some things he cannot distroy with in me. Amen

A Pregnant Pause

January 23^rd, 2012 saw another postponement of the trials. The Orange Blob ran out of money, really? And so he has applied for and been granted Public Defenders. 

February 2012 saw the setting of New Trial Dates: 

Mid-March for the Sister/Wife's Kidnapping trail.
September 10^th, 2012 for the Orange Blob.

Although we had family in Oklahoma in March, the Sister/Wife's trail has been postponed until the July Jury class and is looking to be held after the trial of the brother/husband's 9 charges have been dealt with.

Don't let this frustrate you. It is not really frustrating my family or me. The DA had said, originally, that he wanted to have the Sister/Wife's trail after - in case more charges can be laid upon her head etc. And so ... patient we will need to be.

It has been reported back to me that the Orange Blob is not thrilled with the court date being pushed back to 2-years and 2-days after he committed his murderous act. He is tired of being in the County Jail.

The Judge told the Orange Blob that he will be waiting and he will be allowing his new attorneys' the proper amount of time to mount a defense. I think the Judge is trying to help avoid an appeal. Gotta give the Judge props on that one.

So ... in the meantime I have a wonderful visitor resting at my home as My-New-Face-Of-Brave came home to my new house and she and my oldest daughter made it home on Easter morning. What a great gift.         

30-Days

• Day #1 of Thankfulness... For my wonderful children. Not just for what they do for me when I cannot do it for them.... Just for being my loving kids. They are fabulous Gifts from God.
• Day #2 of thankfulness -- I am thankful for starting the day with chest that is not as sore as yesterday.

•·         Day 3 -- I am thankful the raccoon did not get the kitten -- who is only an out of the house pet.

•·         Day # 4 of Thankfulness -- I am thankful for the strength and power of prayer...and this includes all on Facebook and within my church family --The River of Life Christian Center -- to pull together to pray for the sick, the down trodden, those in pain...even if they don't know them personally.

•·         Day 5 -- I am thankful for the peace of getting all of that extra fabric picked up by its owner, while remaining in good spirits with her. I am glad to have met her oh so many years ago.

•·         Day # 6 of Thankfulness -- I am thankful for learning, having the backwards opportunity of finding out whom my real friends are. And not losing them.

•·         Day #7of Thankfulness-- I am thankful for the simple things... Like my 7 hours of continual sleep last night, I didn't wake up once...this time! Thank you God!

•·         Day #8 of Thankfulness -- I am thankful for the opportunity, yesterday, to encourage the sweet stranger in her new walk of faith. She was baptized just Sunday :) and it was a treat to share with her.

•·         Day #9 of Thankfulness-- I am thankful for ...well I am having trouble picking just one thing.... Having a positive attitude and being able to hold onto it most of the time.

Unexpected Reminder of Love

I am posting 30-days of Thankfulness on my FaceBook page... and keeping up with my positive attitude and my attempt to share my "helpful" advice with others. After all I did not come to the knowledge I have all on my own, so I am determined to share it when the opportunities arise. But I will admit I do worry; I am not sure if it's getting old for some folks or if I miss the mark and folks are tired of my opinionated ways.  Just something I worry about in the back of my head while I trudge on.

Note to self: Worry so much not any more.

Just the other day a post came up:

"Someone should tell you how thankful they are for you and the great advice you are always giving."

Okay, I did say WOW out loud even if Betsy could not hear it through my iPad. Betsy did make me smile. But that was not the end to her giving.

"When I see the advice you give others I miss Ethan (this is my son who was murdered over a year ago)."

But she did not stop there...

"I remember when we used to go to school together he would always talk about his family and how much he loved you. And he was such a good listener and he too gave good advice."

Okay, so you've got it... that was her gift to me. Not even sure she knows it.

None of us parents know what are kids are saying to others when they are not in our presence. Guess I know now. He told others he loved us. WOW. I am beaming right now.

And I know, as I have seen the posts on his FB Wall where others have written how much they miss him, could use one of their long chats, because he always had good advice for them, how good of a listener he was, etc. I am such a proud mom. My children don't fall far from the tree.

I am, today and for the rest of my life, thankful for Betsy sharing things about my son with me. What a gift she has given me. Because it is one thing for a mom to know that her son loves her and another thing for others to tell her they know it too, especially his peers.

I love you too son, but you have most always known that.

Continued Destruction in the Wake

Hardship shakes the human spirit; shakes the confidence of man, woman and child alike.

Tragedy shakes families to their core. It destroys even strong families. But families dealing with other issues, like most of us all are daily, when the tragedy strikes -- they often crumble under the added pressure. Murder of one's child is too much here.

Husband, who's self imposed guilt and who has been growing increasingly distant in the last six months (since he sat beside me at the Preliminary Hearing of our son's murderer), came home a week ago and said, "I love you, but the last 30 days out on location have taught me I like being single."

Really! - Don't worry, I screamed this inside only.

I am sure he does.

Over the last 20 years I would have liked to take a week off of being a parent too, let alone a month here, six weeks there (in Germany),eight weeks somewhere else, wherever my company sends me to. But no, I have stayed committed to being the responsible one. Kept my word. Kept my promise.

Wow.

Why is it so easy for some to throw up their hands? Give up? Give in?

Don't get me wrong... I bet taking the easy road would be great. Carefree. Dismiss those around you so you don't have to feel the weight of them counting on you even a little bit. ... Wait, I will only have to imagine this as I have not been afforded this opportunity in my life.  I still have two beauties that need their mom. They need one solid person to not throw in the towel. Not that I have not desired this many a day over the last year, let alone over the last 20. But it's just not a realistic option.

One year 30 days later the wake of the murderer is still killing things.

Chickenpox Scars

I looked down at my arm this morning, and one of my numerous Chickenpox scars shone in the morning’s light. As I touched it, it made me smile. You see… my son brought home Chickenpox to the family, well to most of the family… everyone except his father – Ethan did this for his birthday (May 21^st), then the last day of school in kindergarten… 15 years ago.

As I remember, I smile more, because I fondly remember I cuddled with him as he needed comforting and two weeks later I called my own mom, “Why didn’t you tell me I hadn’t had the Chickenpox?” I asked at the age of 32! My mother said between gah-fahs, “Your sister had them last year too.”

Nice mom, nice.

But, as I mentioned, I was not the only one to get them. Every two weeks it was someone new. My newborn came up with a rash… at a month and a half… then my 4-year-old broke out with them and then… as if we had not had them long enough… my newborn broke out with a full set of bumps and poxs. The only one in the house without them that fall was my kids’ dad.  And I was not the only parent either. “Chris’ dad” came down with them too. He has the scars to prove, I mean remember, the end of his boy’s kindergarten year too. We laughed and compared scars way back then.

Who would have thought that a childhood illness visited on an adult could bring smiles? Not me. Until this year I had not ever looked upon my pox marks as anything but something that happened when my oldest was turning 6. But alas… it is just another reminder that I am blessed to carry with me everywhere I go that reminds me how lucky I was to be his mom. And how ironic to be reminded the same week he would have celebrated his 20^th!

But May 21^st will forever, at least for as long as I live, be a day that I am able to celebrate the fact that I was made a mommy on that day for the first time in 1991. And no one can take that away from me. Not even a murderous bastard.

Here’s to being a mom.

Brave – I Have a Renewed Insight & Definition

I would like to say that Friday April 22^nd was the most difficult day of my life, but I would be underestimating the past and that to come; although it was the Preliminary Hearing of the guy accused of my son's murder. Okay... It was nearly indescribably painful to listen to the 2 police officers testify to how they came to know where to find my son and then how they found him. I knew the how... just hard to hear aloud... yah know.

Even more difficult for my husband and I to lay our eyes on the murderous orange blob for the very first time in our entire lives; my youngest, who had met the "neighbor" knew what to expect. If I had lasers in my eyes he would have wholes bored in the back of his balding head.  He was curtly instructed to, "not look over that way," by the bailiff right after he sat in the first courtroom.

Difficult again, was after lunch when his mother asked permission to shake my hand and say how sorry she was.... She and parts of his family sat behind us all day in the courtroom. They did try to be nice, hard as it was to bridge the gap. Reality is they did not do the deeds... that 6 foot 5-ish fella wearing a 6x orange blob outfit including the orange socks and crocks did the raping, kidnapping, murder, etc. So I shall be grateful, or try to be, that they were showing, and have been, that they are truly sorry for our loss. I gotta give them that. Because on the other hand I cannot imagine being his mom - an ordained Pastor and having to come to terms with this.

Difficult was listening to my not-quite-daughter-in-law recount the day's events. Oh my ... it went on longer than I had come to think. I shan't give away all... although it is now public record... don't know how to get the words she said out of my head and on to this screen... but suffice to say that during the victim's impact statement I will include words like - you raping my son's gal in the shed where he lay unable to move... unable to get up and help her... is torture of the young man for the hours (5 or 6 or more) that lead up to his death.

But you should have seen her up there on that stand! WOW. She is my new face of brave. I think I actually saw her picture there in the dictionary beside the word BRAVE just the other day. Our 5 foot 3 inch slightly built powerhouse faced her abuser again. And she will have to come face to face with him during the actual trial...AGAIN, but she is a trooper and has the moxie to do it. And for what she testified to... what she endured... the where-with-all and survival instincts she possessed... she is, at the age of 18, much more of a woman than I think I can ever be. I say that with the utmost respect for all who have endured and survived!

A Bit of Relief - The orange blob was successfully bond over for trial on 1 count of Murder in the First Degree, 4 counts of Rape, 1 count of kidnapping, 1 count of illegal possession of a firearm (you know, convicted child molesters can't have guns), 1 count of possession of a controlled substance and 1 count of sales of said controlled substance - which his lawyers tried to say that my kids (okay she's mine now, God and Ethan left her in my hands) were there for and had been purchasing Meth from him... and the Drug Officer said, with much confidence, "No. No. None of the  txts between the accused and the victims were about drugs; we have the transcripts. Furthermore the txt are record of the sales he did do."

So... a bunch of Motions for this and for that... including some "oh the death penalty should be taken off the table" - NOT - will go on for a while. DA is expecting to push for a September trial date. Only time will tell when I get to see the face of brave put the nails in the orange blob's coffin.  

Six Degrees From Elizabeth Taylor

If we start with Elizabeth Taylor as the base... then 1 degree out is her husband Richard Burton; then 2^nd degree is Burton's nephew - Guy M.; then 3^rd degree is Guy was my boyfriend -- Pete's, roommate in 1987/1988 and for a stretch there Guy was my roommate as well. So there you have it ... 3 1/2 degrees.

With Miss Taylor's passing I felt compelled to drop Guy a note. Both of the men had spoken so fondly of her. But the last time I saw Guy was February 24 years ago ... He had invited me to Pete's birthday celebration, as a surprise. Guy was trying to get us back together. But none-the-less the 20 plus year span makes it hard to know exactly where to start looking for Guy. I am not sure if he is still in the states or if he moved, as was his plan back then, back to London? 

I did try Facebook. Not sure I ever spelled that bloke's last name correctly and yes a couple of possibilities did come up. "Did the aspiring actor who worked in construction take up photography?"  If so... that man could very well be the guy I am looking for. But no, I did not poke this fella on Facebook instead I bit the bullet and looked up my ex-boyfriend's name and found him.

You got it, I sent the ex-boyfriend a message. First time we will have shared words in ohhhhhh 22-ish years. In the photo Pete looks so much the same it was fun to just see that he is looking happy and since I'd never wished him ill-will upon nor after our breakup it is great to see people who stay fondly in our hearts looking like they might be doing well.

I am wondering though: 1-Will he acknowledge my note? 2- Does he even keep in touch with Guy still? 3- Hence would he know how to get a hold of our ex-roomy?

Then the worry comes across my mind...should I have contacted him at all? Will my contacting him be so out of the blue that it causes him heart ache? But heck no! Naw! Peeeeshaw. I did not mean that much to him... I say this knowing that our hearts were intertwined at one point, but that was so long ago. I sigh deeply. Should I have clicked on the "Send" button?

I hope the boldness that had attracted him to me so many years ago is not a disruption in his life. Only time will tell.

It is Not Just WHAT You Say….

Learning to speak nicer to folks is not an easy thing to do... have you ever noticed?

Whether it is you who needs to learn not to snap at others or not to bark at others or learning not to yell all the time, you name it, it's difficult to change your own standard behaviors;  let alone help others in your family change their's.

Not only is it because "it" is the way you/they are used to speaking to people, but it is often how you/they were spoken to as a child when similar situations popped up. After all... we do learn by example and our folks are our main teachers.

As many of you may know, stress makes for shorter tempers and in my household we've had our share of stress added to our lives in the last 6 month...  and just about three weeks ago we - Dad, me (as the mediator), and our oldest daughter, age 18 - have agreed that the two of them will try their darn best  to NOT Purposely antagonize each other.

And by the grace of God and the two outstanding efforts of my hubby and my daughter it's working! And the biggest surprises are coming from my ex-Sergeant of a husband! You see... he is actually changing his tone of voice AND how he says things to our daughters!  Yep it is not only effecting how he speaks to the one but both!

Okay, I am still kindly filling in the words he is leaving out of the first run-through of sentences, but then he is actually changing his tone of voice and what comes out of his mouth. I am so proud of this change of behavior... I am beaming.

See... It's true: it's not just "what" you say, but how you say it.

So glad (step)-Dad loves our kids enough to make this change with us. Enter Text Here

It's Too Much, Sorry

In the last 6 months I have come to experience such a level of pain… one I never thought to prepare myself for… (Big Sigh here; hope it is not too loud in your ears.)

You see, I can usually deal with things I have practiced dealing with, run seniors through my mind, you know…? But I have been so unprepared for the death of my son, let alone the murder of my son.  Hurts so much there are times I don’t think I am going to survive it. Oh wait; maybe I shouldn’t have said that out loud.

It has been the small things that break me down … Like moving the furniture around in the living room -- I used to just go ask my son to come help me move it. It’s not real heavy but it is helpful to have a strapping 6 foot 2 inch athletic boy help momma. Plus the reality is I loved having him help me, do things with me.  It took so much longer for me to get the room moved around this time, even with my youngest daughter’s help. It was all of the breaks I had to take as I waited for her to leave the room and then I would sink to the carpet and cry my bloody eyes out.

Debilitating bouts of sadness; just debilitating.

That same day my big sister called… I wasn’t hiding my tears, heartbreak, sadness, etc. from her… but that was the last day I allowed it to be shown to anyone else full force.

She was so scared and worried, because she did not know how to console me, she had tried, but there are just times when the grief wins out. After she said good-bye to me… she called our daddy and now they were both worrying over me and my grief.

The reality is -- my grief is too much for most people --  to know what to do with. I realized it that day.

A few months later, while chaperoning my 17-year-old daughter to an Occupational Health injury recheck the doc overheard us say something about the fact that her brother had passed away.

He shared with us the loss of his little girl and then asked, “You ever notice your grief is too much for others to handle?”

You could have bowled me over with a feather. It was the first time I had heard anyone who knew how we were feeling.

He’s right. Many people care, but when they ask you ‘how are thing going?’ they don’t want to know the truth. Folks want us to smile, say things are alright, even when they are not. – Good days and bad days… you know!

Folks want to help us, they want to make ‘it’ better, but they don’t know what to do for us. And our immense boughts of grief despair them.

But the grieving family members can’t and I do mean can’t continue to stuff the grief down into their soul. We have to be allowed to openly grieve so we can get to the spot breathing does not hurt us as much. Let your friends and loved ones grieve, openly. It will help them the most, at times.

And remember… it’s okay… it’s too much for us too.

Counting Blessings, Even the Small Ones

Many times it seems folks are looking for the "Big" things in life … to recognize them as blessings, but the little ones should not be overlooked. Let me explain:

Admittedly, I have held education – formal or informal – as a key to success beyond the minimum. Hence I have encouraged my children to gain and obtain an education beyond their high school years – whether it be at a college or via military service. I have not asked them to do anything I would not do myself; I have lead by example with my college education, hard work, on-the-job trraining, etc. and their dad has lead (and inspired) with his service in the Army (Srgt. L). And even though our son is no different than most teens spreading their wings… he hit a few bumps in the road, but there were signs that he was finding his path. But as he was attending to family business 900 miles from me it was difficult to know his daily activities, not to mention he was 19, and I have raised my kids to be independently dependent so I was not on his daily call momma list (shucks).

I did my best to be encouraging and supportive in the positive areas of his burgeoning adulthood. He was taken from the family in September and with all of the goings on that surround a loss no one in the extended family could confirm that he was enrolled in school at the time of his death… so I let that uncertainty lay aside… after all… what did it really matter … he was gone now.

Slowly go forward 5 ½ months when I was speaking with his stepmom and for some reason… on this day ... we both were on the same page and figured out who to call to see if he was in school – something we both figured he had been in but…. She gave me the school’s phone number and I made call. And to our joy the school confirmed that my son was, in fact, attending Night School.

I posted a note on his Facebook page as I am beaming with additional pride at my son’s efforts in life and wanted to share it with his friends and our family. His girlfriend posts, "Oh now he is going to be pissed off… he didn’t want you to know. He wanted to surprise you so you could be proud of him."

Well, proud of my son I am, have been, and am again for ever single effort he put forth that was getting him farther down the road to manhood. Yes, my boy is dead. Yes, it took me 5 ½ months to get conformation that he was, in fact, in school, but even in a week when the court stuff had a hick-up and caused a lot of confusion (and a bit of pain) I was given this information about my son. I shall be able to forever beam with pride because my son was, once again, stepping up to the plate, doing what is hoped for him and improving his standing in life with his own efforts. A small blessing on a day I needed reinvigerated. Thank you to my son and to God for that one.

The One Addiction … Without A Cure

A smile covers my face, even now some 19 years after I was infected, hooked and yes, unsuspected addicted.

Just about 18 years ago I was standing in a childhood friend’s living room. I was blessed with my second child in my belly and my first on my hip. I remember delivering a hand-made newborn garment to her. It was Janet’s request as the one gift she hand not received and she had remembered how my mother was talented in this venue. I remember Janet saying to me, “In high school you said you never wanted children… and now look at you… you are going to be the mother of two in just a little while,” this mother of one was shaking her head, smiling and had a bit of amazement filing her eyes.

I didn’t and still don’t remember saying I didn’t want kids, but heck-fire, in high school, like many of us gals, and guys too, I knew I was not ready to become a mom. At 18 I was not mature enough, did not know where I was headed in life and was afraid to even hold my niece or nephew for fear I would break them. As it was I waited until I was 27, the age my parents’ stopped having kids, before I had my first and 32 when I had my last. Told my dad when I informed him I was pregnant, again at 31 1/2, “I always do things about the time yah’ll stopped doing them.”

But when I said that to my dad I had not realized my addiction was well underway. I was blind to my own addiction, as many addicts are, so it seems. 

It was not until 14-years into my addiction that I began to see glimpses of it. But I was still blind to it. In denial, maybe, but reality is I could not see what it was from where I stood. Eighteen years in, though, I was without a doubt fully addicted and I knew it. 

How scared I was. I was filled with anxiety, again, as the source of my addiction was removed from my day to day life. Oh the withdrawals! I longed for the sight, the sound or even the smell of it to help me through the day. I just knew that if I could smell something a kin to it I might, might, and I do mean might make it through the day. But a day did not go by without my body, my mind, my soul, every fiber of my being yearning for that which was missing from my life.

I remember calling my mom; poor woman had to deal with me, her youngest, 2,200 miles away, on the phone, in tears, going through withdrawals.

“Momma you lied to me!” I managed to say between sobs.

“How?” she was concerned she had lied – not a word I would use to describe my mother.

“You never told me I would be addicted to my kids! I need them in my life. I want them home. I can’t take this.”

“Oh honey, they will be back. They just need to prove to themselves that their father is not up to being a father,” I could hear her heart breaking with each word. It was only then, some 25 years after I had left, that she admitted, "It was very difficult on me when you left." The sadness that swelled in her heart was not hidden from her voice.

Days later, when my tears seemed to dry for a minute or two and some sanity was regained, I realized – addicted I was, addicted I am. I realized that no one ever told us as we grew up that becoming addicted to our kids was a possible side affect of pregnancy. Oh sure they talked about “Empty Nest Syndrome” but they never told me I would be addicted.

It is said that admitting one is addicted is the first step to breaking the addiction. But I will not be going to rehab. I can’t help but beam with pride when I admit -- my children are the addiction I don’t ever want to be cured of.

Counting the Days, Like all Mothers Do

14 days

    My body began telling me you were with me

120 days

    My body told everyone who’s eyes fell upon us you were with me

5 month

    My first pictures of you, via ultrasound

9 months

    You joined us all on the outside

30 days

    You were sleeping through the night

120 days

    Teething began

6 months

    Crawling began

9 and a half months

   The pride shown on your face, pulling yourself up to a standing position

10 months

   The walking has started

   The words began too

5 years 3 months

   Kindergarten

5 years 8 months

   Your first crush -- Sarah

10 years 4 months

   You stood up for momma and your sisters

12 years 9 months

   We welcomed someone new into our lives

16 years

    Your first broken heart

18 years

    Struggling for your independence

18 years 10 months

    You asked permission to bring her home

19 years, to the date

    You graduated from high school

19 years 10 days

     You brought your girl home to meet us

19 years 110 days

     Someone took you from us, from me

60 days

      It is still so difficult, I am numb

      I hate my new reality

5 months

      Another postponed preliminary hearing, this time it was Mother Nature

7 months 14 days

   I pray the preliminary hearing comes to pass this time

   I miss you with every fiber of my being, Lovie

Groundhog Day... Not Just in February

The most life-altering day of my life … was not the day any of my three kids were born. I sheepishly admit to having a great set of genes and being blessed with short deliveries (sorry to all of the moms who have had long painful deliveries) although up until September of 2010 I will admit these were at the top of my mommy list.

It was not the day I found out my mom had cancer nor the day my middle child had an anaphylactic reaction to a bee sting and our stay in Children’s Hospital. Nope it’s a toss up, but it all has to do with my first born: The day I found out he had been murdered, the day of his funeral or the day I picked up his ashes.

It is truly a toss up.

Yah, we aren’t meant to bury our children. We’ve all grown up knowing that phrase. But the reality is – some of us parents end up doing just that. But is it the worst day? No.

I think it is the day I found out my son had been murdered that tops my list now. It turned out to be a kin to the 1993 movie “Groundhog Day” staring Bill Murray.

Every time I had to repeat it to: to my husband – I kind of blurted it out over the phone – and to the kids’ step-mom. I txted the family pastor while waiting for my husband to pick me up from work: “How do you go about planning a memorial service? I am sure Ethan’s friends will want to say good-bye.” And then I had to tell my girls.

I had called the school, requested they pull all three of the girls out of class and have them ready to come home, letting the school know that their dad was on the way to pick them up.

Before dad could get out of the driveway the oldest girl was home for lunch. I had lost track of time. Dad escorted her into the house. She surveyed the room: the two pastors sat on one side of the room, nana and papa stood nearby. My girl knew something was up.

By the time dad returned with the two younger teens the mood was beyond somber. It was some time later I had to call my daddy and tell him too. I let him tell my sisters and my mom. I’d had enough.

Groundhog day… not just February 2^nd.