Who knows?

Tonight starts Friday night High School football of what should have been Austin's senior year, but he only survived half of his freshman year. While he wouldn't have been on the field, he sure would have been in the stands dressed in navy and maroon Cougar gear from head to toe or running up and down the stands waving his arms up and down getting the crowd fired up. He'd be taller, but probably still lanky. Not fully grown into his long arms and legs. Hair still as straight as ever, hopefully with a good haircut (finally.) Maybe we'd have gone, too, and visited with the other senior parents. Or maybe we would have given him money for fast food and watched him drive away to pick up a buddy, or a girl, or even a girlfriend to take to the game with him. Who knows? I went outside a few minutes ago and could hear the stadium announcer in the distance, and now here I sit in tears. I wasn't expecting this today, much like the other occasions when these could have been/should have been moments arise. 2 1/2 years later and these thoughts hit me as unexpectedly as ever. And they still stop me in my tracks.

His senior classmates took group pictures with his Lacrosse jersey and dedicated a page in the football program to him. Yep, that's Austin's little jersey in the middle of those boys-that-look-like-men. It was a beautiful tribute that the boys thought of on their own, and we are so grateful that they keep him part of the class of 2016, but it's just wrong; he should be there.

Justice denied and the value of life

A resentencing was held yesterday for the judge to correct the illegal sentence from July 8. His original sentence was 3 years at hard labor and suspend all but 13 months. Because it is illegal to suspend any of the sentence for a violent felony (of which there were 3), he had to correct the sentence. He said his intention was for the felon to only spend 13 months at hard labor, so this was his final answer. 13 months, for all 3 violent crimes committed with a firearm, all to run concurrently. 

He calls this Justice. 

And, he calls the St. Martin Parish Jail "hard labor."

His reasoning behind this travesty involved the "Teen Brain Theory," which asserts that the teen male frontal lobe is not fully connected at 18 years of age, causing poor impulse control and excusing him for the murder of my son. Ironic that the Selective Service still wants those 18 year old males to defend our country. Austin would have turned 18 last week. This came in the mail yesterday. 

Sitting at home during the evening, reeling over the days events, the news cuts in with a shooting at a local theater. Quickly it became national news. 3 dead, 7 others injured. 

When did life become so disposable? God help us all. 

How do you do it?

A friend asked me recently "How do you do it? How do you get through all of this and stay positive and in a healthy frame of mind?" I am not sure if he meant this in a "How are you doing it" kind of way or in a "How will you do it because I think you may need some support and redirection" kind of way. Regardless, I pointed to this picture hanging in our home: 

This painting appeared on our doorstep the afternoon of the very first hearing, February 28, 2013, the beginning of our treacherous walk through the court system. It was from someone in Madisonville named Lissa Lee, a stranger to us but obviously a compassionate, loving sister in Christ. In actuality, I know where it really came from. It was another of our early signs from Austin that he is in the arms of our Heavenly Father and enjoying one glorious day after the next. 

Early on in this tragedy I listened to a podcast by a popular pastor named Greg Laurie, who tragically lost a son in a vehicle accident. He said, "People have asked me did I ever get mad at God. You know, I never did. Sadness, yes; but I couldn't be mad at the very God that held my son in his arms at that moment. " He went on to describe an image of Jesus with his son sitting on his lap on one side, and the rest of the family on his lap on the other side, embracing all of them. When I close my eyes and imagine my family of 5 snug on the lap of Jesus, it brings me peace. We know without a doubt that Jesus has carried us through this from the beginning. We don't know what his plans are, or why, or where we will go next, but we know he will lead our steps if we focus our hearts and minds on him.

I am OK with where he is. I am NOT OK with how he got there. But that's another journey...

So this happened yesterday...

Concerned citizens in our community took a stand and commissioned 4 of these billboards around town. The Judge on the case sentenced our son's murderer to 3 years hard labor with all but 13 months suspended. Since manslaughter is a crime of violence, it is illegal in Louisiana to suspend any portion of the sentence. One would expect the Judge to know this beforehand, right? The thought that a judge who has been on the bench for 23 years would not know the laws governing sentencing is frightening. We are quite sure he knew, because he did the exact same thing with the exact same conviction (manslaughter) and the exact same defense attorney in 2011. We are going back to court for resentencing this week, which apparently is also illegal. 

Some people have questioned calling out the Judge by name. He was solely responsible for the illegal sentence. Its no secret it was his case. It is no secret that his sentence was far below the 10 to 20 year minimum spelled out in Article 893.3. But because the DA's office didn't ask him to use 893.3, he is not required to follow the law. 

Really? We have to ASK a judge to follow the law?

Does it ever get easier?

Does it ever get easier?  Every bereaved parent must ask this question a thousand times, hoping to find someone that will give them an acceptable answer. When my newly bereaved friend asked me this question near my 2 year mark, I answered "I'll let you know." What is easier? It's easier for me to drive an automatic than a standard transmission vehicle. It's easier for me to type on a keyboard than an iPad. Is it easier for me to live without my son now than it was 2 and a half years ago? No. But I'll let you know when it is. 
My friend Angela Miller (well, I've never actually met her but we've emailed a few times and I am sure we'd be instant friends if we ever did meet) wrote a great post about this on her blog, A Bed For My Heart. It's worth reading, go check it out. You may find yourself reading more than just one post. 

http://abedformyheart.com/blog/does-it-ever-get-easier/ 

525,600 minutes. Times 2.

This was my Facebook post on the second anniversary of Austin's death...

So it's been 2 years. 525,600 minutes. Times 2. And we are still standing. Still living and still breathing. (For that, my husband and my children are my heroes!) Started the day at mass in Grand Coteau and will end with a rosary at STM. What a blessing to be surrounded by such a prayerful community and circle of friends. God has used this last year to draw me closer to him, in a different way than the first year. I have spent many hours contemplating grief and suffering, God's will for our family, and just listening to the Holy Spirit speak to my heart. He loves me more than I can imagine and has never left me. We are still learning to carry the heartache of our loss, yet find joy in each other and in our lives. There is still much to be joyful and hopeful about. Time doesn't heal but it has given me the chance to develop endurance, to learn to let grief and joy and hope coexist in this life that can still be good. Austin will be in my thoughts until I take my last breath, of this I am certain. When you mention him and share a memory of him, it warms my heart. Thank you, you know who you are!
I end with a quote I saved from someone named Charlotte: "Hope is knowing that one day I will see him again. Hope is knowing that the end in this world is not the end. And while in this world, hope is knowing that some days aren’t filled with agonizing pain so tomorrow may be better."
Love to all of you~~

a whole year?

(originally published on Facebook, February 10, 2014, on his first "angelversary")

There are moments in life that define you. In the past year, I've had a few of them. Maybe more than a few. Moments engraved in my mind that a Mother can't forget. I've also seen true compassion and mercy from people near and dear and from some I hardly know. Or didn't know at all. I'm learning to keep moving in the face of overwhelming sadness, purely by the grace of God. I've felt the physical power of prayer like never before. I am also learning and relearning to rest in the arms of God and trust him when I have no more that I can do, no words for my scattered and broken thoughts, when my circumstances are beyond my control, beyond anything I could have imagined. God is teaching me, one moment at a time, to survive on His unfailing love. All the while holding my precious Austin in his arms. My Austin has seen the face of Jesus.

I have kept a running list of other truths I am learning along the way, listed here in no particular order:

1. It's OK to just be OK. "Good" will come in time. Maybe, even "great."
2. What I need to know will be revealed to me in time.
3. God is good. All the time.
4. Amazing Grace is more than a song. It's a gift.
5. The Rosary on CD and the Divine Mercy Chaplet are wonderful travel companions.
6. There is no easy way to bury your own child. Expected, unexpected, violent, painless--I just don't think it matters.
7. Satan is real. Don't let your guard down.
8. Jesus is real. Don't put your guard up.
9. There is no magic formula to escape suffering.
10. Most people just can't do the painful work of suffering with you. But they will feed you, pray with/for you, send a thoughtful card or note, and drag you along until you can participate in life again. Thank God for those people.

Thank God for all of you.

Detours in the road

When I started this blog, I had hoped it would be a creative, crafty place for my artwork. Those who know me know that I love, or used to love, paper crafting of all kinds. That's why the original name of the blog was Finding Time to Stamp. That was one of my favorite joys and also challenges... finding the time in an otherwise full and busy life for my creative energy to take flight. Turned out that I was never very good at posting my artwork.

Anyway, in February of 2013, our family's life was turned inside out in a major life altering act of violence, and our youngest (15 year old) son was murdered. By a neighbor who opened fire on their passing truck. An 18 year old neighbor who should never have had the 9 mm handgun in the first place. After 2 years and 5 months worth of multiple delays and excuses, he eventually stood trial in March of 2015 and was sentenced to one count of manslaughter and 2 counts of aggravated battery for the other two boys in the vehicle, who were also hit by his hollow point bullets, but survived.

In hindsight, I wish I had journaled my way through this process. I did very little journaling because in my mind I knew I would have to write and read to the court a Victim Impact Statement, and for some reason this gave me writer's block. I think it was because I knew that statement would be the most important and deeply personal public statement I have ever read and I wanted it to be perfect.Yeah, right. A "perfect" description of the day your heart was ripped open and what it is like to live the rest of your life with that open wound and without one of your precious children. There are no words to describe it but I did my best. Maybe one day I will share it here, along with a few journal entries from that time in my life. Here's one....and as I said in my impact statement, I will never get used to having less children.