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.
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