Warning: Brutal and Graphic!
It has been brought to my attention there are rumors about me floating around, mainly about my mental health. This is the only forum I have in order defend myself now. I apologize to those I may offend. Tender heart…don’t continue reading.
Please do not judge me and the journey I walk for you do not know what it is like for me. Not even Harrison’s father is on the same journey. He and I experienced different things on the worst day of our lives and have our own personal demons to battle.
I want to paint a picture for you and explain why I may appear, as told to me, crazy, losing it, emotional, and whatever else a few select people have decided to say about me while I am not around. And let me just say right now I find it cowardly to not just say it to me directly. I welcome any feedback you may have for me. I am a big girl and can take it; just expect a response back.
For those of you with children, imagine your child, motionless, breathless, yellow, gray, blue…
Imagine the feeling of just being told your child is dead, the idea of trying to wrap you head around this. The idea of never hearing, seeing, smelling, hugging, touching, sharing, anything with your child again.
Feel the pain and heaviness in your chest and heart. The air being sucked out of the room and from your lungs. I can’t even imagine finding my child like this, can you? Imagine the desperation of trying to wake your child up and knowing in the back of your mind he is not going to ever wake up again. Can you? The fear, the terror, the anguish and the scream all coming to the surface. The realization you have something horrible happening kicking in.
Imagine having to call 911 and tell them your child is not breathing, not moving, has no pulse.
Watching the paramedics trying to treat your child and then pronouncing him dead on the scene. Talking about calling the coroner to come to the house. Having the police kick you out of your son’s room until said coroner arrives to check out the scene.
Imagine having to call the mother of your son and say, “he’s dead” to her. Can you? How do you?
Imagine trying to drive over to the house where you child is lying dead in his room, police standing guard not allowing you to go in and hug your child for one last time.
Imagine trying to comfort your other children who have seen things they should never have witnessed in their lives, never experience.
Now, imagine saying good bye, kissing your child before they take him away to the coroner’s office with the body bag around him, zipped down to his chest. Imagine having to shield your children from seeing him wheeled out in a body bag and driven away.
Can you? I see the images in my head 24/7, without fail. They haunt me. Yes, I have issues. Who wouldn’t. If you want to judge me, go right ahead. If you want to spread rumors, I ask for the courtesy of letting me know what you think about me and not just talking about me behind my back.
Again, sorry if I have offended anyone. Not my intention. Just a dose of my reality.