Day Two... So. On 8/15 we will have a somber, unavoidable memorial day. A remembrance of a day and time that I personally barely survived the aftermath of and a day that erased my husbands life force with a single shotgun blast at point blank range. There was never a trial of any sort due to twists and turns in our legal system. However, before that decision was made, I was asked by the DA of the Ninth Judicial District to put to words a statement of victim impact. It was never read to the court or the jury or even published anywhere before today.I made a promise to myself to do now, what I could not do then I do this to show those who think that killing is just a video game option, that it is not. I do this to show other families who have lost, that this comes to us all, you are not alone. I do this to say to those that think they can decide life or death for another, that you will ultimately be the loser in this world. I do this to show that you can be strong when you need to as I was if you stand with goodness and light. I do this to tell my children and family that your Daddy is loved then and now still. I will publish this every day from now until Friday, so no need to read more than once. And at sunset on Friday I will delete them all. If you feel compelled to repost you have my blessings. begin... I saw him cry only twice; once as he held his daughter and again as he held his son. In the 5640 days we were married, he never cried again. And of those days we spent on 10 nights apart. I made his lunch every day and for the most part cooked dinner every night. I am asked now to put into words and letters the impact his death as had on me. And how utterly alone I am. What words are there? What words are there for the breath of evil felt when the sheriff said “I’m sorry Mrs.Howard….”. And to know it has forever separated your soul from this body. For calls made to innocent children that their father who loved them so is gone. To hold them wracked with sobs in your arms for days. To see the panic in their eyes. To see the panic in the eyes of the men who worked for us, afraid now for their very livelihoods and homes. To try to keep them calm and focused on the enormous task ahead of us in gathering 1100 acres of corn. To keep calm those who called for immediate retribution. Without him. I knew I was alone. What words are there to not know where your husband’s body was for three days and to finally in tears, ask Mr Solomon to please bring him home when they had dissected every last bit of him ? To see his truck finally home from the police impound.to have his wallet returned to you to find the photos in it of the ones he loved soaked in blood and body fluids? To let them dry on the night stand in hopes to save them and his memories ? To watch men go armed, ready for a war. To see and talk to deputies with tears in their eyes. Alone. What words are there for casket shopping with your children? To hear the bank say “No we will not help you pay the men until the corn comes in”? To stand for hours, while 422 people, heartbroken, came and said goodbye in the funeral line. To stand in a foggy place where there is no bright sun, no smells, no wind or rain only fog. And no one else seemed to notice but me. And I knew I was alone. What words are there for the passing of Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years , his birthday, the children’s birthdays, my birthday, our anniversary. Now, hollowed out and sad shades of better times. For tears with morning coffee and tears with sunset. Tears that frighten the others so I do not show them. For a closet full of clothes, boots by the bed, pictures and pictures and pictures. alone.... Tamara Howard
Posted on: Wed, 13 Aug 2014 23:30:54 +0000
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