What happened

On February 18th, 1993 I got the call that is every mother's worst nightmare. My oldest son was shot and killed. The worst part is that he pulled the trigger. He was 17 years old.

On September 22nd, 1999 his little brother (then 22) went to the cemetary where Shane's ashes are and shot himself in the head. He wanted to be with his brother--wherever that is when you kill yourself.

It was also what happened between their deaths. Howie, Ryan's best friend, was murdered. His brief story in the blogs posted.

How much could one 22 year old take?

Wednesday, August 29, 2012

Some years when the boys' birthdays come around I do pretty good at saying a prayer and moving along through the day. Other years, like today, I wake up remembering what a beautiful day this was 35 years ago when my baby boy, Ryan, came into my world. And I feel sad. And I can't seem to pull myself out of it. Even by making fun plans for this afternoon with my little man, I still just want to go crawl back into bed under the covers. And so it goes. Oh, I know, after this many years one would think I'm used to celebrating the boys' birthdates without them. One would think wrong. God bless my boys in Heaven, and please give me strength to make it through yet another special day without my precious boys. Amen.

1 comment:

  1. I came across this page by accident. I think what you are writing is wonderful. Tragic, yes. But I tried to commit suicide a few years back. It was awful. But I am here to tell my story. I can see the hurt you must feel. I am sorry.


Happy Birthday, Shane!

You would have been 34 today.