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