Questions

Questions

For 18 years & 364 days I was blessed,
Now by some I am told it is a test.

To see if my faith is strong,
Or will I tell others to believe, I was wrong.

Was that all my daughters life was in the scheme,
Her loss leaving our lives with no meaning or theme.

A simple test as if it were a chess game,
between good & evil in His name.

Brutally taken by such an evil spawn,
Was my daughter's life just a pawn?

One who is manipulated, powerless & weak,
A mere peon so to speak.

Is that all her life meant to Him,
That she could be taken on such a whim?

For there was no miracle on that horrific night,
Her body bloody & lifeless after a courageous fight.

Her killer watched as she lay dying on the floor
Wasn't my beautiful daughter's life worthy of more?

Lisa's spirit visited me before she went on her way,
She wanted to let me know that she would be okay.

Lisa told me, Mom I was not alone you see,
The angels were right there beside me.

Now I must believe that Lisa's spirit is free,
Because of her kind heart she held that key.

How can I ever see the beauty of this life,
When the pain constantly cuts my heart like a knife?

Ironic that is, some might say,
As Lisa died the very same way.

As I walk through life behind my mask.
There are so many questions I must ask.

In Loving Memory of
Lisa Christine Maas

The Little Things

So many times in my life I have let the "little things" get passed me. They never seemed to be a big deal at the time. When I say "little things" I mean it in a way that everyone takes for granted. When you lose someone you love so much you start to remember all those little things you took for granted. And wishing that you could change it and hold onto it for just a little longer because now you know that those little things add up to big things that will never happen again in your life. Here are some of the little things I've been thinking of, holding my son's little hand crossing the street, wiping off a dirty face covered in chocolate, hearing a silly joke that makes no sense at all and wishing you laughed at the time. Watching him jump on the trampoline and saying "mom, mom, watch this" and closing your eyes because you were so scared that he'd get hurt and saying oh that was great, wishing now that you did get to see the sommersault in mid-air! Wishing you stayed home more often when he was sick but you couldn't cause you had to work. There are so many little things and then the big things start tumbling into your brain, how you wish school wasn't so hard on him because he had such a hard time in school, how you wish you didn't force homework down his throat because you thought that was the right thing to do even though it wasn't helping any. How I'd complain about the noise of a house hold full of kids, playing games, or music or just messing around. How I miss that noise, the laughter, the silly jokes they'd play on each other. I don't think a lot of people realize how much this pains me, how it's no one's fault when I hear others talk about their kids and they did this or that or had a wonderful time watching a show, going to the movies and dropping all the pop corn on the floor. Wishing I could go back in time and re-play all the little things all over again and cherish each one more than the other because they are lost and gone, and I will have no more "little things" from Timmy as my life passes by each day. No more "get up get up late for school" or "please keep it down you are all to loud", "turn the music down", "pick up your clothes", "ok one more game and it's time for bed", or the big hug just because. Or how he'd follow me around the house telling me funny stories, or what happened during the day, or asking me to drive everywhere I go so he could listen to the radio and pick the music HE wants to listen to. Knowing it's Timmy coming up the steps because he had that creeky knee going on. Watching them play football outside as I drove up from work and how he'd wait for me to park and walk over to the car and say "hey mom how was your day". I wrack my brain for memories every second of the day, trying to fill the void I feel knowing I won't have any more of these silly little memory things to hold on to. This is all I have left. These short 15 years worth of little things, memories, good time and bad, no matter what it is, that's all it is now are memories. Except the why's, what if's, how can this happen. Mostly why, why, why. I'll never understand the why! I know a lot of what I say and do most people don't understand, until you lose a child to murder you could never understand the pain, the helplessness, the sadness, you isolate yourself and watch from the inside out. Wishing you could be "normal" again and knowing you never will be. Hoping that no one will mind if you bring up that funny story you want to share and not make anyone uncomfortable because you want to talk about him, you want to remember, you want to hear people say his name, and how much he meant to them or how much he is missed and to share all their "little things" with you so you can add them on to your list and have a little bit more of those "little memories". My very last memory with Timmy in my life was saying good night, he was on the computer and I rubbed his head and said don't stay up late. He said, no I won't I'm tired. His last words to me. I can still feel his hair in my hand as I reflect back on that one 30 second moment, the one that will stay with me forever until I die. My last words to him, ok baby cakes good night I love you.

We Are The Broken

We are the broken,
Our lives have changed
Our children taken
We're filled with pain.

We look to you
To show you care,
At first you support us
Then you're not there.

We see you out,
You see us too
But you avoid us
That hurts too.

What did we do
For you to leave?
Our children died
And now we grieve.

We put on masks
When you are near,
We scream inside,
But you don't hear.

You tell us "Move on.
Get on with your life."
We smile and nod,
Your words cut like a knife.

We long to hear our child's name.
You'd like it to stay unspoken.
So you don't call because you're afraid
That someday you may be broken.

~Kim Lasater~
01/10/10

Where does everyone go?

Where does everyone go when they are needed the most? Why do they leave and do they really think if it is hard for them to face reality then how hard it must be for us? Do they know the thoughts they leave with the mother of a murdered angel when they chose to ignore you, avoid you or just plain abandon you? Do they think I wasn't a good enough parent/person and that is why our angels were taken? If life was based on the merit system why wouldn't all the murderers be dead then? But you are left with that feeling that they are somehow better than you because they have their children, their lives and their happiness. Something we will never again have...yes we have our "surviving" children if you can call it that as they go through life with holes in their hearts and the memory of their siblings a constant reminder of what could/should have been. We have a new lives but they aren't lives at all and happiness in our lives is at such a low level you need a microscope to actually see it whenever it does unveil itself if only temporarily like an eclipse. So what? What is it? Are our lives too much of a reality? Are we bringing others down? Doesn't it matter that we think about our murdered child 24/7? Oh...I see that is it...We think too much about our lost child...Is there even such a thing? What does that have to do with or Why is everything about Lisa? Because that is the way it is and always will be! I will tell them that too but no need to as they aren't around so I wonder why like so many other things. What do we do when they do come around...we can't be bitter because we have to understand how hard it is for them because as much as it is about them and we are to understand then WHY DON'T THEY UNDERSTAND WHY IT IS ABOUT OUR ANGELS? But then again no need to worry as those times are few and far between because they just don't come around. As time goes on life get lonelier and lonelier and the pain never lets go of your heart. But the questions always remain and the thoughts are always there; trying to understand other people who don't even care enough to show that your angels life meant something or those that are left in the rubble even matter to them anymore...In loving memory of our Angels ♥LCM♥

December 31, 2009 New Year's Eve

It took me a while to come and write this post. December 31, 2009 New Year's Eve was my baby Timmy's birthday. he would have been 18 years old this year. 18!!!! that's a very important birthday, it's the day they are considered "all grown up", adults, they can vote now, they can join the armed services, et. My son never had the chance to become a "man". He was 15 years old when he was murdered on July 13, 2007. 2 1/2 years ago. When I woke up that day, the first thing I thought of was if Timmy was here.... I would be saying "Happy birthday big boy" You're a man now, now you think you can do what you want even though you know I'll be arguing you down if it's wrong!!!! 18!!!!! I'll never see my baby turn 18, I'll never be able to see any of those things that happens when your child becomes an "adult". It was a sad day, besides it was New year's eve. I know for sure I couldn't celebrate. I baked him a cake. I decorated it really nice, well as best as I could. I put a memorial ad in the local newspaper saying Happy 18th Birthday like what else can I do???? I didn't know what to do. I would have been decorating, having his friends over, maybe a little party or something, asking him what he would like for such a big birthday day. I sat there not knowing what to do. I went down the street to where it all happened. I hung balloons there and a poster board to the fence that I wore in magic marker Happy Birthday Timmy, 12/31/91=7/13/07. Then I went to the cemetary with more balloons. My sister went with me, along with my niece his favorite cousin who he was like twins with, and my other nepehew and nephew in-law. My boys, they couldn't go. They just couldn't go there with me. Did it hurt, yes it hurt me, I kept saying to myself they should have went, it was his 18th birthday, his brothers should have went with me. then I realized it's not that they didn't want to,it was because they just couldn't. They don't want to celebrate their brother's 18th birthday at his gravesite. then we left. I went home. It was New Year's Eve. Time for celebration, but not for me. It was a time for sadness, tears, memories and thougths of what could have been. I finally fell asleep at 11:30PM, my one son who didn't go out that night woke me up at midnight wishing me a Happy New Year. I said thank you, I'm going to bed. I went to bed and whispered Happy Birthday Timmy and Happy New Year's. My sweet angel how I love you. Then I heard the next day how it was a full moon that night, it was actually a "new" moon or "blue" moom, that's what they call it when you get 2 full moons in one month. It was the first time this happened in over 16 years I think they said. So my son had a special present from God too I suppose, his 18th birthday fell on a "blue" moon, how poetic. I know that sounds strange, but I felt that it was a sign. Happy Birthday Timmy, my sweet angel son, I love you for all time!

Why?

Why is the question so many of us have. Why were our children's lives taken? Why were we chosen to have to live this nightmare of devastation, loss, regret, guilt and too many more to list? Why do our lives only get worse if that is even a possibility...yet it is. Now the children we have that we are to be grateful to have, out of the mouths of naive parents who still have their children, have to live the rest of their lives with the pain and survivors guilt. We have to watch their worlds crumble down around them as if we already don't feel helpless enough and failures to our murdered child. We try to continue to do what is right and have faith yet we are tested over and over again. The "injustice" system treats us as if we are asking too much for wanting our constitutional rights to seek justice for the wrong that has been done. Parents treat us as if we are lepers or that our children must have contributed to their own murder. Friends and family can't understand or don't try to, shun us or just back away from it all as it is too much for THEM to handle. Others don't understand--What does this have to do with Lisa, Jimmy, Kaylin, Travis, Nicky, Timmy, Samuel, Jeremy, etc. when everything in our world, or what is left of it, has to do with the loss of our children. We have to fight and scratch for even the simplest things in life some days just to survive one more day in this hell we are living. Most days we are just left with that question if we have enough energy to even ask it--Why?