It's tax season again, and I sat down tonight and began working on my taxes. As I was working through the dependents questions, one hit me right in the heart. The question asks if you had a child die the year before. You don't give that question much thought if you have never been to a child's funeral. That question made me stop and think about how fortunate I am to select no. And how not all of us are quite so lucky. The guilt that ate as me, when I selected no, knowing that a year ago my sister had to select yes.
It has been almost a year since Nora was arrested for the 1st Degree murder of my nephew John. If you know us, you know all too well what happened to our baby. If not, you can scan back through several of my other blogs and get a pretty good representation of the nightmare our family has been living in.
It's hard to not think about Nora. I have a very vivid imagination, and when I see her face in mugshots I picture all of the horrible things she may have done to John in his final moments on this earth. I hate sharing these things, because I know how they affect Angela, and the rest of my family. I know that those thoughts run through their heads enough that they don't need my constant written reminder. But I share these things so that people can try to imagine the horrors she put our baby through. Why she deserves nothing less than to rot in a jail cell for the rest of her natural life. Why she never deserves the right to get outside of those walls, and possibly hurt another child, or even have children of her own. If a one year old set her off to the point she murdered him with the flick of a wrist, imagine a completely defenseless new born?
These are the constant bombardment of thoughts we have been left to cope with as we face a looming trial. There is also that gut wrenching fear of the unknown that will become known to us during the trial. The things we've seen so far...the things we know, but don't know details about...and the things we are most afraid to hear...sitting in a file taunting our heart every single day. Just when it feels like you have started to make some emotional progress, there is a phone call...a picture...some sad song that puts you right back in that hospital room. Or today...tax returns.
I keep waiting for the day that I sit down to write one of these blogs and that heavy, racing heart feeling won't fill my chest. The feeling of doom that seems to seep in whenever I think about John won't sit over me like a dark cloud. I wonder if that will go away once everything is over with Nora? Or if there is just so much trauma left behind by what she did to our baby, that it never goes away?
I feel like we are losing our baby to the awfulness of his passing sometimes. I have to fight so hard to get to the good memories. Our thoughts are always preoccupied with justice, and he deserves nothing less. But his smile is fading. His rolls so distant from our finger tips. He soft sweet cheeks have gone so far from our lips. I want to feel his soft plushy warm body in my arms. I crave it in my soul. And it hurts so much to know that his Mommy craves that even more than we do.
When I think about Angela not having her baby to hold every night, I come right back to the person that took that from her. I used to think I was a compassionate person, but then life happened. Life in prison will never bring our baby back, but it will damn sure keep other babies safe. I hope with all my being, she gets nothing less.
It has been almost a year since Nora was arrested for the 1st Degree murder of my nephew John. If you know us, you know all too well what happened to our baby. If not, you can scan back through several of my other blogs and get a pretty good representation of the nightmare our family has been living in.
Photo Courtesy - MichelleRusell.com
It's hard to not think about Nora. I have a very vivid imagination, and when I see her face in mugshots I picture all of the horrible things she may have done to John in his final moments on this earth. I hate sharing these things, because I know how they affect Angela, and the rest of my family. I know that those thoughts run through their heads enough that they don't need my constant written reminder. But I share these things so that people can try to imagine the horrors she put our baby through. Why she deserves nothing less than to rot in a jail cell for the rest of her natural life. Why she never deserves the right to get outside of those walls, and possibly hurt another child, or even have children of her own. If a one year old set her off to the point she murdered him with the flick of a wrist, imagine a completely defenseless new born?
These are the constant bombardment of thoughts we have been left to cope with as we face a looming trial. There is also that gut wrenching fear of the unknown that will become known to us during the trial. The things we've seen so far...the things we know, but don't know details about...and the things we are most afraid to hear...sitting in a file taunting our heart every single day. Just when it feels like you have started to make some emotional progress, there is a phone call...a picture...some sad song that puts you right back in that hospital room. Or today...tax returns.
I keep waiting for the day that I sit down to write one of these blogs and that heavy, racing heart feeling won't fill my chest. The feeling of doom that seems to seep in whenever I think about John won't sit over me like a dark cloud. I wonder if that will go away once everything is over with Nora? Or if there is just so much trauma left behind by what she did to our baby, that it never goes away?
I feel like we are losing our baby to the awfulness of his passing sometimes. I have to fight so hard to get to the good memories. Our thoughts are always preoccupied with justice, and he deserves nothing less. But his smile is fading. His rolls so distant from our finger tips. He soft sweet cheeks have gone so far from our lips. I want to feel his soft plushy warm body in my arms. I crave it in my soul. And it hurts so much to know that his Mommy craves that even more than we do.
When I think about Angela not having her baby to hold every night, I come right back to the person that took that from her. I used to think I was a compassionate person, but then life happened. Life in prison will never bring our baby back, but it will damn sure keep other babies safe. I hope with all my being, she gets nothing less.
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