Nightmares....

It goes without saying that our lives are now a nightmare. But today I wonder 3 years and 3 months later what is going on with the nightmares I encounter while I sleep. They seem to come and go but now are much more vivid and violent. Loved ones being stabbed as well as us chasing after evil people and trying to kill them. However they just seem to never die no matter what method we use to try and defend ourselves. They just keep coming after us as if some cheap horror flick. Perhaps it is because we will never be able to escape the evil that has been brought into our lives and never stop worrying about the safety and well being of the loved ones that are still with us. We know all too well by how our lives are now a constant struggle that we are immune to nothing and life just gets harder as the days, months and years go on. No we don't get over it.....Luv ya My LiL Wheezie ♥

Our New Life After Murder

So we've always talked about writing a book to the name of the forgotten moms, voices of moms, etc., but were just never able to get together due to the heartache that goes with our new lives. So last night as I was thinking about how famous all the murderers are ie: Casey Anthony, the latest, I thought we really need to get our views out to the public. After all they even have a reality show with a family that hunts wild boars....Hoggers....yes they will show just about anything from being 16 and pregnant to paying millions to hear a murderer tell you how she killed her child and got away with it! Oh excuse me, how her child "accidently" died and how she panicked and threw the child in a swamp. After all the longer you keep the body from law enforcement the better your chance of getting away with murder. But I am sure the cold pathetic excuse of a human being didn't know that anymore than she knew about chloroform being used as a babysitter. Oh wait about the latter she knew and those witnesses who heard her brag about how she used it to silence her child weren't allowed to testify or so the media tells us. But enough about that or is that all the American public wants to hear these days? Maybe it is but maybe we should just see if maybe it isn't. Maybe we should see if just maybe there are so many others out their just waiting for their voices to be heard. But does the American public want to hear about the victims or is that just one day out of the year or once in awhile? Perhaps it isn't something they want in their faces once a week or something they want to think about especially if they haven't been victimized. We all know all too well, even some of us before our loved ones were murdered, that we could sleep better at night if we didn't believe that it could ever happen to us. Definitely we felt sorry for those who had so tragically lost their loved ones but as long as our family is/was intact then we do our best to not think about it. So why then if the American public doesn't care to see the victims on a regular basis because of how painful it is to them...I know they don't know and could never possibly know the pain...then how is they are so interested, fascinated, mesmerized, etc. by the murderers? You know the ones that devastated a family and changed their lives forever. They can watch them on tv and the media loves to continue on with the murderer, the murderer, the murderer. Will they get parole, how "bad" life is in prison, how two lives were lost....wait a minute that is where I draw the line on that one! Hello...they are still alive and now and forever everytime I hear that saying that two lives were lost I will equate that persons intelligence/common sense to that of the Anthony jurors. Sorry not trying to be insulting here but the obvious is the obvious and my child is dead and the murderer is alive! Our visitations are at a cemetary thinking or trying not to think our loved one is laying in a casket under this fine earth we walk on! Or in a jar knowing that is all we have left of all the hopes, aspirations and desires we had for our loved ones. That is because someone, no lets call it like it is, some coward murderer decided to steal their precious life without any regard whatsoever. So now they are the ones whose life was "lost" and they are the ones who the media sensationalizes! Before finally falling asleep last night, with the usual thoughts of how our lives have been destroyed , it came to me. I should look into writing about the tragic murder of my daughter Lisa Christine Maas and so many others like Lisa whose lives were so tragically and brutally ended. I shouldn't give up on trying to let others know how our lives are changed and how much we hate our new lives and what we must do to cope with the loss. Lisa loved to write and was so very good at it. Some of her writings might even suggest, to those who believe the theory of predetermined destiny, that she somehow knew her time on this earth would be limited. What would the title be? We have had many good ideas as that one but there must be words in the title that would get the attention of others to make them want to read it. I thought well then it must have the word MURDER in it as the VICTIM just doesn't seem to spark the same interest with the public. So how much more appropriate than Life After Murder or so I thought. Sounded good to me but unbeknownst to me the title has already been taken. What surprised me, however, was not that it was taken but moreso what the title was being used for. Yes you are correct it is the title of a book and a series of interviews on a radio show based on life after murder for the murderers! Please tell me that isn't the only thing the public wants to hear and read about. I am determing and I will find a title but it will still be based on the "true" life after murder. You know the lives that are left in shambles, a million broken pieces, that are trying to learn not only how but why they should live this new life.

It seems lonely here but then again so is our journey. I haven't been here in awhile but I wonder if that is because the reality of it is so difficult and some days it doesn't seem real at all. This past week was always the week we went to Cedar Point Amusement Park which we haven't visited since our beautiful Lisa was taken from our lives. One morning I could smell the fresh morning air and for just one moment, one tiny moment I felt like we were at camp waiting for the morning dew to burn off and head over to the park to start with our early bird passes-another tradition of ours. For just one moment in time I remembered what it felt like when our lives were whole and we weren't living this nightmare and we were happy. Just like that it was gone and the sadness engulfed my spirit and soul reminding me one of the most important things in my life was gone and would never be returning.....

St Patricks Day

Yet another day, holiday, passes without Lisa in our lives. Memories of the shopping trip to the outlet stores when Lisa purchased all her green "garb" on sale after St. Pattys day in anticipation to wear for the following year. Frugal she was and she put it away in preparation to wear the next year. Like so many things in life she was denied...wearing them and celebrating the holiday was taken away from her. Such a trivial thing yet so painful when we found them and now today again remembering. Every small memory that so many other take for granted bring such pain to those who have lost their child. Things that were and those that never will be again...How can the sadness ever possibly ease...IT DOESN'T! It just gets worse as the journey begins to wear away at you not only physically but at your soul or what is left of it after your heart has been so broken and torn apart.

I am a Mother

I am not an indirect reference...

I am a mother

As a child I played with dolls

I guess it was pratice

I am a mother

As a teenager I babysat, also practice

I am a mother

I remember when the dr said yes

I am a mother

I'll never forget the day of delivery

I am a mother

There were diapers and bottles

I am a mother

Learning to walk and to talk

I am a mother

There were skinned knees and measles

I am a mother

Riding a bike and learning to read

I am a mother

There was drivers ed and a first date

I am a mother

Then came that call

I am a mother

Only a few short years

I am a mother

Now just memories and sadness

I am a mother

Only tears and photographs

I am a mother

I am not an indirect reference

I am a mother

by Julie Dinkens

In Loving Memory of

My Son

Jeremy Earl Dinkens

Here it is, Here it isn't...

For some reason this was much funnier when I heard it said by Johnny Depp as he played the peculiar yet loveable Willy Wonka while searching for the key as the spoiled child was being overwhelmed by squirrels. Now it has new meaning for the mother of a murdered child as she tries to get the "square" wheels of justice to turn. You see they don't move very fast, if at all, and well when they do they clunk forward only to stop until the next time you can get them to turn over the next edge of the wheel. Which brings us to the title...Here is your trial...here it isn't...here is your final pre-trial hearing...here it isn't...you get the picture. All the way down to the phone call we received yesterday saying a hearing was to be held today for the murderer whose lawyer believes he needed to be recommitted back to the mental hospital. Seems he doesn't really like jail too much these days despite only being there for 2 out of the last 21 months since he murdered our beautiful Lisa. So we spend all night wondering how we will handle seeing this pathetic excuse for a human being in person for the first time. We are told we will get a phone call later in the day with the time of the hearing. No phone call, no info on the "official" docket sheet...nothing but endless hours of now wondering if we are going to once again be bypassed in the process only to later be scolded with You need to be at all the hearings so the judge knows her life mattered to you. WTF!?
We would if you would do things they way you should and notify us! So this morning after a long night or limited sleep and nightmares we finally get a phone call with a Gee I guess I forgot to call you and tell you the hearing has been postponed and we are not sure when we are going to reschedule. All the way down to the phone calls we are left with the Here it is, Here it isn't game. Don't worry it is just our emotions you are dealing with. We just all better learn to take it in stride as after all our name in nowhere to be found in the Criminal Justice System. Perhaps we could have our own and call it the Victims Justice System and promise the murderers different things like visitations, appeals or early paroles and then say: Here it isn't!

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?

Spent all day yesterday watching the clock, noon Jim came to borrow my truck to go Christmas shopping. 3:00 PM Jim was at the movies with one of his friends, 7:30 Jim brings my truck home tells me he is going home to take a shower and do some laundry and "I'll see ya tomorrow mom." 8:00 P.M. my oldest son calls and tells me "Mom Jim just got shot." No way I tell him Jimmy just left here he is fine, "Mom it was just on the scanner Jim got shot and is being taken to the hospital!" 8:20 P.M. in my truck getting to the hospital as fast as I can, 8:30 waiting, waiting, waiting for the doctor to come tell me Jim is OK. 9:30 P.M. Doctor comes to the waiting room to say "I am so sorry we did all we could but we just couldn't save Jim." Shock, Disbelief no way not My Jim. I'll just go home it will all be OK and Jim will come walking through the door at any minute. But no matter how long I wait that minute never comes. Two years later I spend the day once again watching the clock counting the hours that My Jim my baby boy has left to live. Will the angel day ever come that I don't spend the day watching the clock? I think not, this is a pain, sorrow, sadness that will never leave my heart for as long as I live. Now I think of all my sister moms having to go through their child's angel day and I know what they will be going through and I just wish I could take it all away from all our hearts.

Mom 2 an Angel

Angel Jim

MOMS Worldwide Candle Lighting video in memory of our angels.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Xt9d93k_K8

Come December

Isn't that a song I heard? Can I tell you how my December's used to be and how my December's now are? First, my birthday is in December, 12/9 to be exact. When I was younger I loved to celebrate my birthday, all the presents and attention. As you grow older they become less important probably because you're getting older! Then in 1987 my father died, December 15th. A day before my due date for my son Matthew. He was due to be born on December 16th. So I attended my father's funeral 9 months pregnant with my second child. I miss my dad, he was a good father, I was a daddy's little girl. Then on Christmas day my son was born! I thought to myself daddy sent me a Christmas present, as everyone thought for sure the death of my dad would put me into labor, but it didn't. So I was blessed with a Christmas baby 10 days after my dad died. Joy and sadness at the same time. But my baby filled the void and sadness, took over the pain I felt. As my son's grew Christmas' were the best, I made sure they had all the newest things, the top on their list! The newest hottest games, remember Sega and Nitendo? Aww Mario Brothers, they'd beg me for the paddle back! Come on mom, you're turn is over! New bikes, new skates, the joy of watching them ripping open the presents one after the other not even really seeing what the one before was. Watching new movies as we sat in our PJ's exploring new toys and games. Then on December 31st 1991 a new baby came into my life! A New Year's Eve baby, wow, how lucky can I get. Two holiday babies! I remember the day he was born, I remember it so vividly. How the dr's were in an emergency so I had no epidural, now we all mom's know how important that epidrual is! I kept telling the nurse, this baby is coming, my dr. is not here yet, and I had no anastegia. So she calls him tells me he'll be here in 15 minutes, I said well this baby is coming before then! so of course she checks and yes his head is popping out, I'll never forget the look on her face, God bless that sweet nurse. Don't worry she said, I've delivered babies before, WHAT????? I had two wonderful nurses bring my baby boy into the world. 7 lbs. 14 ounces - hey that's 8 pounds in my mind! So more joy for December, new baby things to buy, more boy clothes, more bikes. Timmy my New Year's Eve baby loved Christmas. he was the first one up before every one, 6AM, I'd make him wait until at least 8AM before he woke his brothers up!! That was torture. He'd beg me, please mom, please wake them up! And he loved everything he got down to the pack of socks. I always told him too for his birthday that no matter where he was, there would always be a celebration going on, how lucky can you be to have a birthday on New Year's Eve, there's always a party somewhere! As they grew older Christmas was still special no matter what age it seemed like Timmy had to get out all the decorations, first weekend after Thanskgiving. He would bring everything up, all the boxes of Christmas Decorations. He would help put them all out. His favorite was putting up the tree and my Nutcracker men! And the tinsel. How he loved the tinsel. And of course after all the gifts were opened the new movies watched, a nice Christmas dinner, it was joy, it was happy. Now let me tell you how my December's are, my son, my baby was murdered on Friday the 13th in July of 2007. Now I face a cold December, my birthday having no meaning, who cares my baby is not here. I try so hard to make Christmas nice for my other boys especially my Christmas baby, I put on that fake smile and say this is how Timmy would want it. But then when it would come time to pull out the decorations, I couldn't do it. The boys would have to bring the boxes up. Last year I was lucky if 1/3 of the decorations got put to use. My son and his friend put the tree up. I haven't got the heart. I can't even listen to the Christmas music it only makes me cry. Especially Silent Night. That song even thru the hot summer days when my baby couldn't sleep and I have no voice of an angel that's for sure, I would sing him Silent Night over and over again. It was the only thing that soothed him and he would peacefully fall back to sleep. I remember after he was killed laying in bed and singing Silent Night to him in the darkness by myself, can you hear me Timmy I'm singing your favorite song, can you hear me??? Are you near me?? Do you hear my whispers I love you in the night, the tears that fall silently on my pillow because I don't want to upset your brothers? Do you feel me squeeze tightly that teddy bear you didn't want because God forbid you are 15 so I kept it anyway, and now sleep with it. I kiss that teddy bear as I say goodnight my baby, I love you, sweet dreams, don't stay up late. My last words to my son before I went to bed, the very last words I ever said to him. This will be my third Christmas without my son, my third cold December, my third son missing from my birthday, missing from the joy of Christmas. I can't even go shopping. I try so hard to go into the stores and I see something and think oh, Timmy would love that. Timmy was 15 years old, this New Years Eve 2009 he would have been 18 years old. A third birthday missed, a third New Year's Eve celebration that I no longer can celebrate. As we grow older and our children grow older and time goes by and peoples lives move on, new babies born, new bright Christmas' to celebrate, my son stays 15 forever, lost time, lost love, lost celebrations, lost listening to him play the Linus & Lucy song on his keyboard. How does one survive this? How can anyone say that the pain will get better, it gets easier with time? I see my life moving on and all his friends doing the things he should be doing, but my life also stopped moving along on 7/13/07, like the day the Earth Stood Still. I just get older and sadder each December.

I Used To

I used to love this time of year,
The carols being sung.
The tree all decorated,
All the stockings hung.

I used to love this time of year,
Hot cocoa in a mug,
Watching Christmas specials
All cuddled nice and snug.

I used to love this time of year,
The gift wrap on the floor.
Happy children laughing,
A wreath hung on the door.

I used to love this time of year,
But since you went away,
My life has changed forever,
And I don't love it anymore.

~~Kim Lasater 12/02/2008~~

I wrote it last year at Christmas time but feel like it still applies. Holidays are harder then other days. What used to be such a joyful time is now tainted. It will never be the same. I miss Kaylin so very much.

Woke up this morning first thing the tears started, can it really be almost two years since I have seen my Jim or heard his voice? How can two years seem so long and so short at the same time? 16 days is all he had left to live two years ago and this in my third Christmas without him. If only I could turn back the hands of time knowing then what I know now. The great what ifs or if onlys!!! how can this be worse instead of better? I miss Jimmy more and more every day I see no light at the end of this tunnel. I wonder does anyone see the black cloud I feel hanging over me? I know my son and I know he would want me to be happy but this month I think he will forgive me for not being able to even get close to happy. I will send balloons on his angel day and buy flowers for him at Christmas, what else can a mom of a murdered child do, I will never see the look of joy on his face after opening his presents at Christmas or see the look of joy on his face because he knows he got just the right thing for his mom and his little girl. I will make it through this month because I have my loving family and all my sister moms beside me. Then I will start looking forward to spring when I can once again have Jimmy's garden full of beautiful flowers. I will continue to light a candle for My Jim every night until the day I go to see him on the other side.
Mom 2 an Angel
Angel Jim

My thoughts

After five years and nine plus months, my mind is in a different place today. This does not mean there is any less pain, heartache, anger or sorrow. I will forever love and miss my son, grieve for him, feel anger like I'v never in my life felt before. I will forever remember the day I came home and found him lying on his bedroom floor brutally murdered. I will forever remember all the homicide detectives coming and going while I was sitting there, (after they sat me down) while I was crying in shock wondering how this all could be happening. I remember everything about that day like it was yesterday. When your child is murdered, it is the worst of the worst thing that can ever happen to you in life and you will never ever forget it. It will affect every part of your life forever. The heartache is neverending, and you wish you could join them. At one time, I wished I could join my son but no longer do. I remember feeling intense anger every single day, and every November was filled with thoughts like "what do I have to be thankful for, they murdered my son, I'll never be thankful for anything ever again". As I sit here and ponder what has happened since then, I have to be thankful, even if it is for only one person, or many, I guess I should be thankful. I remember the night before the murder trial for one of the murderers when I kept talking to Gerrick and asking him to watch over me while I wondered what would happen during the trial. He was right there letting me know that he heard me. Just like he was sitting right there next to me during each and every court date. I'm thankful for twelve jurors who saw and heard the truth through the evidence and followed the law. I always wished I could have thanked them, but was never given that chance. I'm also thankful for a witness who told the court the truth. I always wished I could have thanked that person as well. I never got the chance to thank all the homicide detectives who worked so hard to find and charge the murderers who murdered my son. Every murder investigation starts with the homicide detectives working that case, and I appreciate each and every one.
One of the murderers who murdered my son pleaded guily to first degree murder. His sentence was only 21 years. The other murderer was sentenced to only 22 years. The trial judge who sentenced both murderers gave them the minimum sentence under Illinois law, 20 years being the least after conviction of first degree murder, and 60 years being the maximum for first degree murder. This means that both murderers that murdered my son will be young men when they get out and will have their whole lives ahead of them while my son is in the cemetery.

No, you never forget, you never ever "get over" the murder of your child. What happens is, time continues, whether you want it to or not. For whatever reason, one day your mind is in a different place. But, your child is always right there with you.
Diane Davies 11-24-09

Today

Today I decided to check the card in my video cam to see if I could retrieve pictures I had lost due to viruses on my computer. To my surprise they were there along with a couple of little video clips Jim was videoing his motorcycle getting a new motor and I could hear his voice how bittersweet that was. Just to hear his voice for a couple of seconds made me both happy and sad and naturally I cried. I never want to forget his voice and that laugh of his he was quite a guy so full of life.
Mom 2 an Angel
Angel Jim

Where Angels Fly

Where Angels Fly

Dedicated to Timmy Clark

They say that Angels fly where the butterflies roam so the story goes,

in a field of clover and where wild flowers grow.

As many hearts will tell you the butterflies are signs,

of our loved ones whispered kisses and loving sweet soft sighs.

How can we believe with our broken hearts

that there ever will be a day of peace, no matter where we start.

It doesn't matter how many times you try,

the life you lived has disappeared the day your child died.

But one thing you must remember, God is loving and kind,

so when you see a butterly, your angel is not to far behind.

by Bette Ann Clark