Christmas Past-Christmas Present-Christmas Future

Just days away from Christmas and as the days progress day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute, I find it increasingly more difficult to endure. I can't hide the tears nearly as much. They burst from my eyes like faucets that never want to end...

Everyday I want to scream. Every single day I want to rip every single Christmas decoration and throw it out the window and never look at it again. I hold strong, I close my eyes, I hide in my room, sometimes I even start drinking just enough to go numb, not drunk, but numb enough to endure the pain.

I can't help but look back to the year before... This time last year we were happy, we were all happy. Brian was clean, he had been for several months. I was insanely happy with my job, and working extra hours to help stuff the bus for needy children of Fremont County. I shopped and donated several toys for this campaign. 

My children had all decided to sponsor other families that were struggling for Christmas. The joy on their faces when I took them shopping, and they bought not just one toy for each kid, but four toys, and very expensive toys. We had gotten to give the 5 different children from two different families the gifts, and the mothers cried, saying this was the only Christmas that their children would get. My children were happy, proud, and embraced the true Christmas Spirit.

It was the year I was doing the best financially, and was able to provide for each of my children everything on their wish list. They insisted on buying both Brian and I gifts. We were so insanely happy and full of so much love, so much spirit this holiday season...

That was the last time we would ever be a family again...

I wanted to skip the holiday, every holiday to be exact. My family is missing two huge holes. Holes we cannot fill, holes that are painful for all of us. My kids hurt for their father, and the sister they thought they had. They hurt for the family that was full of laughter and so much love. They too wanted to escape the Holidays and just run away, go somewhere, no longer be this constant reminder of the family that is broken.  

I thought about it. I thought about skipping them all. 

It was after talking to a coworker about how her family never celebrated holidays, because her father walked out on them on Christmas, and holidays became a pastime. It was her story of how now that she is an adult, she doesn't know how to "do holidays", that got me thinking. She is with her boyfriend and they are doing the family thing, and she feels awkward about the traditions and unsure of what to do.

In that moment I realized that I was doing my children a disservice. I know they want to skip the holidays as much as I do, and just run away from the pain and the reminders. Then I remembered that as parents we raise our children to one day have their own families, to become husbands, to become a wife, and mother and fathers... If I raise them escaping holidays, they will grow up and fight with their spouses over celebrating the holidays and their traditions. They will kick and scream when it comes to family gatherings and dinners... They will want to run away on vacations to avoid the holidays, while their spouses will justifiably want to spend the holidays with their families. For this reason alone I will endure every holiday and try my best to contain my pain, my resentment, for their futures... 

I only pray I find the strength for my children, to embrace new traditions, and honor my husband's memory every year, and love him as I always have and always will, in his absence and somehow he will find a way to us in spirit, to remind us that he loves us too, and we are not forgotten... And remind me of the mother I need to be for our children, and give them the life they desperately deserve... 

 

Ugly Christmas Sweater

Eight years ago, Brian and I had just met a few months prior. We had just formed our relationship, it was a friendship filled with a very high level of sexual chemistry. There is a lot to say to where we stood at this moment in time, but that is for another story at another time.

I was working at Radio Shack in the Verizon part of the store, and it was our "ugly Christmas sweater" day. I had a blast and knew I looked awful. Brian came into the store, like he always did and all he could tell me was that I looked hot. I brushed it off as being totally ridiculous! No one looks hot in an ugly Christmas sweater. He seemed to love it though, and I still to this day, do not understand why or how.

Last year he went Christmas shopping for me, he had scoured every single store trying to find an "ugly Christmas sweater". I remember opening the gift and the smile of delighted anticipation in his eyes as I pulled out the hideous sweater, and I broke out into a laugh.

"I looked everywhere for an ugly sweater. I finally found one at K-Mart. I remember the first time I saw you in the ugly Christmas sweater and I loved it. So I decided every year I am going to buy you an ugly Christmas sweater." he told me.

My heart felt so full of love and filled with nostalgic memories, and I told him that I liked that tradition idea.

It's a year later and every store I walk into there are racks and racks of Christmas sweaters. Every time I see them, I frown with deep sorrow. I realized that last year was the beginning, and the end of the Christmas sweater tradition...

Today, with tears in my eyes, I picked up an "ugly Christmas sweater" bought myself a card, and checked out at the store. This gift I will wrap and put under the tree and carry on the tradition he wanted to start for me. I purchased this gift for me, from him... Every year I will always wear the last sweater he ever gave me, but I will also be sure that under that tree will always be the sweater I know he would want me to have. The sweater that he some how would find sexy on me.

I will pray he will be there with me on Christmas morning. Holding me, loving me, and whispering into my ear; "I love you my wife, my booboo." For every year I will wrap my arms tightly around my chest as though he were there, holding tight and whispering in to the still air, hoping he will hear my silent whispers; "I love you, my husband, my heart, my forever."

Brian's Last Journal Entry

I think Brian knew he was done fighting for his life anymore. He did not intentionally kill himself, but I think he just knew, somehow, he was done. That the end was near.

Imagine how devastated I was to open up his journal after his passing and finding this last entry. I couldn't respond. I wish I had read it and could have told him to hold on. I wish I could have told him that our love was not faithless and "divorced" was something we would never be.

Then again I did not give him much faith, when out of my own rage, made him believe we could possibly be done, and throwing divorce in his face out of anger, even though I didn't actually mean the words. I cast him out, just 13 days later from the date of this letter, his own silent torment. I could not bring myself to watch as he would throw away everything we had worked so hard for, to be for nothing, on a relapse. I didn't give him enough to believe with and hold onto. I just held onto my own hope that he would see. That he would know that I would never truly turn my back on him.

I just wanted him to understand I was serious about his sobriety, but it was not MY sobriety to manage. Tough love... What a joke! Ultimatums are not the answer. Telling him to choose between me or his drugs, his family or his drugs! It's not that simple, no matter what we think we might know. We don't understand.

We should have gotten help, we should have been honest with the counselor and opened up about the battles--his with addiction, and mine being married to someone with addiction. Instead I was left with a letter, a journal entry. I was too wrapped up in my own pain to see his was destroying him. I knew he was hurting and I was too. But, I didn't have to fight against an addiction in the middle of this nightmare we found ourselves in...

Who knew that 18 days later this would be the letter that prophesied his death?

Tuesday
March 08,
2016

New beginnings and fresh starts rarely leave suicide notes detailing broken hearts. It seems behind is the only place to leave the past if a future life is intended to last. For rear view mirrors you have no need. Why ever look back once you have taken the lead. Always remember that in reverse, back is the only direction to go and who buys tickets and travels just to miss the show? Granted that no one can foretell what their new future holds. It just seems unbeneficial to those who ask to be dealt in their folds. Almost certain that new lives are only sought after old ones burn and yet still for it will always be these new lives are only sought after old ones burn yet still for it will always be these lives we wish to return. So does it matter if new beginnings are sought or forced maybe if these beginnings solely stem from faithless love divorced. Either which way fresh starts can be a blessing or a curse. I imagine that they can be both always ending with the same slow ride in the back of a hearse. With such calming realities of an equal end across the board. It seems rather difficult to justify anyone's painful memory hoard. But without the memories of left lives before how is it possible to ever feel secure with the decision to close the door. Guess I'll soon know and see, I wonder what I'll allow this next life to be.
                                                                                                                                  - Brian Wright

Last letter from Brian

The last letters Brian ever wrote me was so heart breaking. I read it over and over again, mostly because I need to hear the part where he tells me he loves me. I just wish he understood how much I love him.

The back story to this letter he wrote me:

We had gotten into a fight when I got a phone call to come and pick up the Consent Decree for his daughter, that would outline all of the allegations made by DFS and his daughter, who I once too believed was mine. I was forewarned that the report was going to be brutal and I was even encouraged to reconsider allowing her back into our home, because they were concerned if she came back that the allegations would only get worse.

The report I had read was horrendous I cried the entire time I was reading it but I could not put it down. I kept reading it over and over again, with tears streaming down my face. I looked to my husband lost not knowing what to do from here. I asked if we should just let her go with her mom, or maybe if we should consider a sort of reform school. The advice I had gotten terrified me. They said "What if she next lies and says one of your boys touched her? Kristie think about how far she is willing to go here with all of these lies. They won't stop. They will only get worse, she is setting out to destroy you. Do you want to lose your kids while she is on the road of destruction."

I was ridden with fear! The report I read, was accusing me of abuse as well. The things that were listed in that report were heartbreaking to read! I was terrified that after all these years of protecting my children, what if this person's advice was right and I suddenly would not be able to protect my own children. Yet, I was torn with the love I had for this little girl.

Brian became so angry at my fears, and so angry at what was in that report, that after hours of me sitting there sobbing, he ripped the paper out of my hands and said "Stop looking at that, it's no longer your problem!" He practically spit the words at me.

This set me off in a rage! How was it NOT my problem. I yelled at him that it was every bit my problem. She was my daughter and I loved her and she was rejecting me! She was rejecting ME! I was so hurt by her report, so hurt by his words. I took all my wedding stuff off the wall and said this is how he feels about our family. This is where I stand. A worthless hated step mother and wife. (I took the wedding stuff down every time I was throwing a baby tantrum).

After screaming at him I went upstairs and laid in bed with my daughter and cried. He came to the door and told me to come to bed with him. He wasn't polite about it, and I was still so angry at him for what he had said I told him no.

I slept that night with my daughter, then went to work, and avoided coming home for lunch. I still was not prepared to see him. I didn't know what I was to expect from him if I had come home. Would we fight? I didn't want to fight. I was tired of hurting so much at this point. This case had been ruling our life for the past three months and all there was left was tears and heartache every single day.

When I got home from work that evening I came down to my room and saw this letter written on a used piece of paper lying on my pillow:

Tuesday
03/08/16

Kristie                                                                    
        I love you. Not worth the used paper it is written on. I need you. Not much in reasons for you to want to come home or even sleep in the bed. Your home, your bed I said I will leave. You would like that and who wouldn't? I have children, one I told, we are a combo that I refused to split, only days later, clearly a combo I mistakingly allowed faith to believe existed. I foolishly hold strong to values that appear dead to others. Children I hate still deserve a world not poluted, and the children I love a world absent of me. As well as the women who regret our meeting entirely. I deserve more punishment than this life has time to offer me and the time you waste that in no way belongs to you could be saved. Spent more productively on children who deserve more than the pain that swallows the little time they have. Our wedding might serve as a decoration for your mood but remains for
me the single greatest moment allowed me since mmy arrival here. All the truth you attempt to conceal is the one savior for the hopes and possibilities we all deserve. Your freedom and the children's rite to a life without negativity is as attainable as a short to the point conversation filled only with hidden truth and actual desires laid out. With the only consequence of such a discussion leaving everyone getting what they want and me getting exactly what I deserve admitting that the love of your children and the heart you protect I never deserved in the first place. I can promise you that between telling me to leave and telling me the truth you'll find that the truth only you know can deliver the results you want without impacting the worthless love I have for you and your children. My heart and manhood are small and useless but belong to you none the less so please I beg you to do as you wish to both. But please don't leave them alone in a home they're not wanted with a woman that is tired of both. I will always love you.
                                                                                                                                 - Brian

I wrote him a letter back, which he threw away. Telling him that no I loved him. That he deserved the best a wife could give him. That he always deserved the best. I told him he was a wonderful father and how blessed we were to have had him in our lives, and my children to have had him as their father. 

I went upstairs and laid on his chest and told him I was sorry and that I loved him. He asked why I didn't come home for lunch and I said "because I don't want to fight anymore". We had scheduled an appointment with Sky with every determination to throw out the consent decree so that those bogus reports could not be used against us at a later date. He had convinced us not to go to trial, telling us just to do everything asked and anytime she acted up once brought back into the home, we would just call DFS, since they created this problem we were going to allow them to handle it. 

This gave me renewed fight to keep going. Now that I had a solution in place I felt like it was time for us to regroup and do what needed done... Unfortunately my husband did not feel the same way. He was still very tired, and his fight would only get worse over the next few days... He got lost, he started giving up, and no amount of fight I had in me was bringing him back... 

He loved me...

I was walking past the old Radio Shack the other day and suddenly I just stopped. I have walked past that door several times over the months and not once did I feel this sudden urge to stop there like I did on this day for no particular reason...

I stared at the door for awhile with flash backs to the first day I met Brian. It was this door he had walked through. I was in the middle of the store with my coworker, in what we called the "bull pen", and I turned around as the door opened, and in walked this man. My heart stopped as I watched him walk through that door, and saunter toward me at my work station. There was no other customers in the store, just him... I remember exactly what he was wearing that day.

I don't quite know what came over me. I never had that reaction toward anyone else in my life! I couldn't think, I could barely even function. He was not the most gorgeous man I had ever seen in my life, but he was DAMN fine!!! I couldn't understand why I reacted this way to him, it was as though no one else in the world existed. Years later I think I can sum it up to love at first sight, it just took me awhile to succumb to my true feelings.

I am not sure what he saw in me. He was gorgeous. He had everything going for him and yet he continued coming back through that door everyday to buy some stupid little gadget, or have me fix something on his phone, or plan. He was there everyday! It took time before I finally broke and told him he had to stop coming into the store. When he asked why, I looked at him like he was stupid and said "because I can't think when you are around! I have the biggest crush on you"! He laughed and told me to shut up.

Later that night he came to the theater I was working at whenever they needed me, to watch a movie. He invited me up to watch with him, and his friends. We spent the entire time talking. I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that it appeared that he was flirting with me. I was so fat, I had four kids, I was trying to get out of an unhappy marriage. Who in their right mind would ever be attracted to me? He was... For some reason, he was attracted to me.

For two years we carried on a friendship that also included benefits from time to time. I was always jealous of other girls that would come along, or if I saw him flirting or looking at other girls. He didn't know that I was eaten up with jealousy. I had no claim to him. I was still dealing with the on again off again with my husband at that time. I think I just always saw him as being mine from the very first time I laid eyes on him.

When I started to lose a mass amount of weight after being so utterly disgusted with my first husband and what he had done to my daughter. He was the only person that did not say a single thing to me. I had lost 80lbs in about three months. It wasn't intentional, I just couldn't eat. I was so disgusted by everything that had happened, that I had married a monster. I just couldn't eat. I would consistently get compliments over how much weight I lost, how good I looked, etc. I actually HATED every time it was brought up. I didn't earn their praises. I did nothing except waste away.

Brian fed me back to life. I am certain that I would have been hospitalized had it not been for Brian. He came to work with me after my ex had been arrested for molesting my daughter. He had made sure I always had water. I would be talking with a customer and he would get my water bottle and fill it and then quietly slip it back into my hand, without gathering attention or interrupting my sale. He would go get food and put it in front of me, not say a single word, just lay it out, with the expectation I would eat. I would sigh with dread looking at the food, but not wanting to be rude, I would pick at it, until eventually he would see I was done, then come gather the rest of the food and eat if for himself.

He never seemed to see my weight. He saw me as a person. He always thought I was beautiful, smart, ambitious and strong woman. He loved everything that made up the person I was. I used to hear nasty remarks from his ex, saying I was only trying to lose weight so that he would love me.  I would hear nasty remarks by her to "eat a cheeseburger" along with her snickers as she passed me by. I never responded. Just kept to myself. Hell I had to endure the fat jokes from my ex while I was married to him over being fat, so nasty remarks concerning my appearance were nothing new for me. What she didn't understand, and what I myself didn't understand, he loved me, for the person I was.

As time went on over the years I developed my taste buds back. I started putting back on the weight. Slowly of course. I started to feel insecure that maybe he would see me how my ex did. That I was just a fat cow. He never did. I would start trying to hide my body, and dress in other rooms. He would always ask me why, and I would bring up my weight and he would tell me how beautiful I was. He actually told me I was too skinny before, and that I had looked almost sick. He liked me being heavier. His only concern was for the weight on my knees, since they were in such bad shape.

Then whenever his other ex wanted to hurt me I would get bashed for my "big nose" and for being so fat and disgusting. I hated hearing these comments. When I would hear them from other people, the first thing I thought about was that this is how my husband sees me. That was all I cared about. I would start crying and he would walk in and get angry about the things she would say to me and then tell me to stop listening to her. He loved me for ME! He thought I was sexy and beautiful. He made me believe it was possible...

Now that he is gone I have lost all desire to feel sexy or beautiful. I have only increased my weight, and my pants fit that much more snug. Sometimes I feel disgusting and wonder if he too is disgusted looking down on me... Strange how even though he is gone, my first thoughts are what he thinks of me.

I will never fully understand and see what he saw in me. I don't know how I got so lucky to have had him for the short amount of time I did. I just know that when I am scrolling through old photos of when we first met, I see how fat I was in my ugly Christmas sweater, and all I can do is smile and think of how hot he thought I was in that hideous thing. That every picture I look at and see as fat and gross, he still loved me. I still had a magical love with this man, that no one can take away from me. He loved me. I will never understand why or how, but he did.

Why?

A friend once told me, while I was in an emotional state, nothing new really, asking "Why?". I was questioning if my husband loved me. If he loved me, then how could he have left me? I am so lost, so confused, so alone...

She told me "I have never understood what it was like to fall in love with an addict until recently." Suddenly she understood why I always stayed with Brian all these years. Why I always fought for Brian, because she too recently fell for an addict.

She told me, she believed fully that he did love me, without question. That maybe, just maybe, he wanted nothing more in this world than to be with me, but he didn't know how to stop hurting me. Dragging me through his constant tug of war with drugs. She told me, "maybe he let go this time because he wanted to find a way to be with you, without hurting you anymore."

Could this be the case? Could he have just finally given up, and let go because he loved me that much? Not just me but our children, his children. So many people judge him and used his drug addiction against him--punishing him. My own frustrations and anger casting him out, because I wasn't strong enough to endure the relapse, not this time. Was he just tired of losing his battle? Feeling completely unwanted, but loving with all that he had--the family that he felt was rejecting him.

I don't know that I would have wanted to live through that myself. Even without battling addiction.

Could he have loved us, all of of us so much that this was the only way? Did he feel it was the only way he could be with all of his children, his wife--was to just let go and live within our hearts, with his spirit, and no longer hurt us?

If so he was wrong! This does not make the pain any less... Though somehow it makes some form of sense in a warped way of thinking.

I would much rather kept fighting with him, and for him. I would have fought and fought for him until the day we both were grey and old--holding onto our love, dying together. Couldn't he have just loved us all enough to keep living? Keep fighting?

But, how exhausting that must have felt. Right now in my own grief, I am beyond exhausted. So how could I in my right mind, and selfishness, say that I don't care how tired he was, he should have held on out of love? I did not endure as much loss and heartache as he had during his lifetime, so who am I to judge? Hell, if I could, I would give up right now. I would find my release from this life to go be with him. No... I can't fault him for being too tired to keep fighting.

I can only hope that what they say is true, that he does live in spirit among us. I can only hope and pray that everything we hear about the the afterlife is true, and that one day, when the time is right, we will truly be joined together, and my soul, and heart will be whole once more.

I love him, now and forever... heart and soul... for the rest of my life.

Maybe it was me...

I lay here unable to sleep. It's 2:12 in the morning--I have to be awake at 6:15. I'm not too sure sleep is going to come tonight for me.

I have so much going through my mind. Thoughts... Crazy thoughts... Plaguing thoughts...

Sunday I went up to the mountain to find my wedding ring that Brian threw out the window during one of his episodes. I'm sure I want to tell that story someday, but that's not what's plaguing my mind right now.

I sat there on the rocks, with the fallen branches, crisp colorful leaves of fall nestled about my feet and thought about that day, and everyday after... I can't help but think did I do this? Was I ultimately the result of this? As tears unleash streaming down my face.

Oh there are plenty of regrets I have, such as wishing I had the calm mild manner to ask him to give me the needle, controlling my anger. But, that's not what has my mind reeling hours before my alarm goes off.

No, what is going through my mind right at this moment is that little girl I had fallen in love with and raised as my own... I hear the haunting laughter of her mothers words when I tried telling her that Alexis did love me, the words that ripped through my heart I once had, "she doesn't love you, she's never loved you. She only ever told you she loved you to get you off her back. She told me herself".

Suddenly everything I had believed to be true, all the love declared, promises made, everything began to unravel... In that moment all I could think about were all the times Brian and I would argue and he would tell me she didn't ever love me. She was playing me, using me. I would defend her, stand up for her and deny that she would do that to me.

I think back on the many times Brian would leave me to go on his little "binges" and he would come around and want to fix things but knowing he messed up by dragging her into it. Suddenly he would pass her off for me to "fix this" like I was the one who did it.

There I would sit across from her on the couch as she glared at me, hate seeping from her. Hatred being back in this house. Hatred that her father loved me enough to want to come back here. I sat across from her telling her that it's not okay for her father to do this to her, to drag her into our fights. I would tell her how much her father and I loved each other and one day she would grow up and be on her own and it will come soon, but her father and I deserved to be loved and happy together, because this right here was the rest of our lives. I would tell her "I will not force myself on you, you do not have to call me mom, you don't even have to talk to me if you don't like. But, I'll still love you, love you like you are my own. I'll still pay for dance lessons, I'll still buy birthday gifts, Christmas gifts, and still be on the sidelines for every single game, every single concert, every single recital. Because I love you". This resulted in her broken down facade and she would cry lunginh into my arms and tell me she loved me and that she wanted me as her mother.

So you see how easy it was for me to believe she really loved me?  I guess that was my own hope, my own desires to not see what was really going on. After her mother laughed at me and told me the truth that was in Alexis's heart, I turned to Brian and with heartbreak in my eyes I said "You were right. You were always right. She didn't love me." He then held me and said "I was only trying to protect you".

Now how does this all come around to being my fault and having me lying here until what is now 2:48 in the morning?

If Brian and I had not fallen in love, maybe just maybe he would still be around... If we had let Alexis win and it go back to just being her and her father then maybe there would have been a chance.

When she was 7 and told me she wanted to move in, be a family, and for us to get married, I was so excited! Excited to give Kiki a sister. Excited to fall in love with this little blond haired mouthy brat, that seemed, from my perspective, to fit right in. Caleb looked up to her following her every whim, as the big sister she became. Kiki learned how to bond and not feel alone in a house full of boys. It just was too good to be true.

My children also gaining a father that they desperately needed in their lives, that role model, their protector to make them feel safe against the outside dangers of the world.

I should have saw the signs, signs I chose to ignore because I was convinced I was different. She would talk about his other exes, in such negative manners saying "oh she would always make things up to get me into trouble with my dad" or "she told my dad every little thing I did just to get me into trouble".. So here I was happy that she loved me--ME! I wouldn't do that. No... I made a point to handle as much of anything I could to keep away from her father do there would be no issues. Talking with her at lengths, formulating solutions. If it were serious enough, or something I couldn't keep from her dad, we would discuss it with him together. He did often have an explosive temper, to the point I would step in and say "that's enough".

No I don't think she ever did love me now. Don't think she ever loved any of us. In spite of Brian's insistence that she in fact did love Kiki. You don't abandon people you love.

Which is I guess irony considering. However, I guess it's not abandoning. I'm not abandoning her. She abandoned us, because she never loved us, so I gave up, threw in the towel, because I don't have any more strength or will power left in me to fight for anything anymore. I fought so hard for her for so long, and the day I lost my husband, was the day I lost all my will and strength to fight for anything anymore.

That night, the final night we spoke--after finding out she had been speaking to a boy in high school about suicide pacts, and love, and discovering she had slipped off to the park to make out with this boy, while staying with a friend, when she was clearly not allowed to date. It wasn't her fathers explosive temper that set her off on the web of lies. It was me. It was me telling her I lost all trust in her and I couldn't do it anymore. That I could not trust her and had no idea what to do with her at this point. It seemed every time I began to trust her she would do something else, chasing boys--boys older, boys she wasn't allowed to date until high school. I told her from that point on I was no longer the "cool mom" that would always have her back, but trust in Brian's judgement, because every time I backed her I got burned. I told her "I don't care if you hate me, my job is to get you through high school graduated and not pregnant." We talked until 3 in the morning as she professed this great love for this boy, and how she should be allowed to date. I adamantly told her no. The answer was no. We came to no resolutions for punishments or where to go from here I just sent her to bed totally lost on what to do at this point. I had reached my point of exhaustion. Here she was 14 and in 8th grade and we had been going these rounds since 6th grade and 12 years old.

The next day I took her phone and kept it. Through out the morning message after message kept popping up on Kik app, Snap Chat, and another secret messenger. All from boys quite older. She was 14 these boys were 17. One boy, completely different from the previous boy she professed such love for, I discovered they too were talking about love and marriage. Another boy, the boy that resulted in the argument from the very first boy, stated he was her boyfriend. I then dug deeper and to my greatest fear saw a message from that weekend that we were out of town, plans to go hang out in a truck with this boy who was 17 for a couple hours, clearly stating we were out of town and she would sneak out around 10:00. They never did follow though but it terrified me. The only thing I could think of was had she gone, she could have been raped. We were not home, she could have gone off and been alone with this boy.

Out of pure anger, pure disgust, I got on her Facebook and posted a status "This is Alexis's mother, she is 14 years old. You boys that are 17 years old hitting on my daughter know that it is illegal! I will not hesitate to press charges, if her father does not get to you first. I suggest you get your nose back into your books and focus on your future while you still have one. This girl is OFF limits". At first I felt quite proud of myself. I knew she would've seen it through her friends. I didn't care. I was making a point. Until 20 minutes later, she then decided to make HER point, and went down to the office, and file a complaint that her father had abused her. Through examination there was not a single mark on her, even though she bruises easily. She claimed a concussion and without the presence of a cat scan they could only go off her symptoms, headache, tired, nausea. Couldn't possibly have been, the lack of sleep, facing consequences she didn't want to face... No this all got way too out of control.

I kept telling everyone they were making it worse. They had her backed in a corner she couldn't get out of. She couldn't back track her story now. There was only one way to go. Her mother. Which Brian has claimed for years it was all she ever really truly wanted anyway. I didn't want to believe it. I had thought over the years she had finally seen the mother she was and realized the great father she had, as well as the life we provided for her.

Suddenly, I sit back and hear those words from her mother. Her mother telling me I always acted too much like her "mother" and I needed to step aside. I guess I didn't know where my boundaries lied. Was I still to continue paying for everything and yet not speak to Alexis. Did I let her mom be her "mom" and let her provide the expense for dances, and soccer? If I did that then she never would have got to play. She already never sent birthday gifts, Christmas gifts, or a dime of child support. Did I separate out the children? My kids vs. his kid? I just wanted a family... One unit, not two.

I was even more devastated as more lies started pouring in from reports from DFS, and from her mother stating my "role" as "step-mother", and how horrible I was. That I separated her father and Alexis's relationship. That I would lie to get her into trouble and twist the truth. Where had I heard that same exact statement before? That I would try and force her to call me mother and she refused, never seeing me as a mother figure. I was nothing...truly nothing...

So now going on 3:32--less than three hours before my alarm sounds. I can't shake the horrifying feeling that this was me. Because I tried too hard to be a mother to her. Because Brian and I had fallen deeply in love. I think Alexis always liked the idea of having a female figure around, but only really to spoil her and go away. Never truly to stick around. I don't think she wanted him to love anyone else but her. I mean I guess it makes sense. She's young, wants her freedom. Her fathers undivided attention. The last thing she needed or wanted a was me. Meddling around in her business, pretending to be something I'm not. To her I was nothing... Just some one she hated, proof from screen shots from her mother, of their conversations to torture me more, that everyone hated me... And how she wished I were dead and not her father. Well child that is the one thing we both can agree on. I too wish it were me that had died. Then your father would be alive, and my kids...well I'm not sure where they would be, because I know they mean nothing to you and would have posed a burden...

I am sorry your father fell in love with me, but I will never be sorry for a single moment that I fell in love with him. He gave me life, he gave me hope, and for 8 years of our lives entwined together it was the most beautiful moments I will cherish always. He was and is my heart and soul now and forever.

It is now 3:46 and my this little girl lying next to me, my only daughter, sat up in bed looked at me snuggled closer and muffles "I love you" I whisper back "I love you" and she barely lets out the words "I love you more" seemingly in her sleep. "Not possible." I say as I pull her closer and finally feel at peace enough to put my phone down. She's my strength now, my realization of how much pain and loss she has endured in her life, losing the only father she ever knew, and the sister she had trusted and loved--yes, she needs me, just as much as I need her right now.

Good night... finally goodnight...

Karma doesn't exist...

As I sit here pondering life and the world around me I can't help but notice how ugly it is. Maybe this is a dark post. Negative view of life. But the reality is there is no such thing as karma, there is no such thing as people who get what they deserve.

Good people that do good things and always try to do the right thing don't have the fairy tale endings. They end up with tragedies, heart break, and sometimes death.

Those that do bad things, evil things, wrong and selfish things, seemingly end up getting whatever they want out of life. Maybe not always, but sometimes... They end up living--winning, and carrying on. Gloating as if the world is theirs and never feel an ounce of karma, or suffer the consequences of their actions.

The world is an ugly place with only small moments of joy and happiness that very few of us seem to get to enjoy for a very short time. It is not just... it is not fair. It just is...

I have always tried to do right by others, give to others. I have helped with funeral costs and arrangements for a new born baby that died of SIDS, I have donated to a little boy fighting cancer. I have raised funds for a mother that lost her husband weeks before the birth of a new baby. These are only some of the things I have done to always be a good supportive person. I didn't do it for glory, recognition or personal gain. I did it because it was the right thing to do. Or I thought it was the right thing to do.

My husband always tried to be a good person. He was always so negative about himself, but he was always giving to others, when he could. He would climb school buildings to get a little girls Frisbee off the roof top. He would walk across streets in the snow to help old men that slipped on ice. He always tried to be a good. He said it was so he could maybe get recognition from God for all the bad choices he had made earlier on in life, and make up for them. Although from so many stories I heard from his friends and his family he was always genuinely a good guy, that just sometimes, or often made bad choices, but even then, some of those bad choices were for good, no matter how misguided, reasons.

He was there for me when I became a single mother of four children, about to lose my home, with a car that was falling to pieces. He was there for me to give me fight and courage to keep going even when I wanted to give up. He gave me a safe haven.

He was a father to our children. The best father that he could possibly be. He gave our children structure. He encouraged them, and believed in them. He gave them a role model of what to do and what not to do. He was our protector, our strength.

Somehow him being a father, a good father! Was the beginning of a downward spiral of his demise. He fought for so long for his child, his children, to protect them, and their innocence. Yet in the end the world turned against him. Using his past against him. He was punished. Stripped of his right to be a father, because rules were not something that a teenager can abide by and in his own words "the legal system that kidnapped [his] daughter". The amount of torment that we endured was excruciating. 

Suddenly hearing that you have been nothing but a drug addict, and abusive your whole life, and needed help, even though he had sat on that couch for months resisting his urges to use, staying away from bad people, and being clean. Listening to all the work and sacrifices he made in life, were for nothing, because that child didn't want to live with you, or abide by your rules, that he "needed help".

To read documents stating how "abusive" he was from the mothers, yes plural, of his children, one he had not been apart of her life for six years. The other mother that refused to pay a dime of support, and be supportive and mature when we begged her to be. To read those damming papers of his own child saying "he wants to pimp me out to make money". For his last visit to be told he was abusive because he asked about her grades, and when he made a point that one grade can't slip to improve another. To get berated from DFS on how he talks to his child. Because he cared about her grades?

The pain I myself endured, for all the times I held her while she cried when her "mother" broke a promise or lied to her about money, or sending gifts, or fighting for custody. For all the times I was there giving up time with my four children, because I loved, and believed she was mine. I was at every sideline of every single game. I was there when kids were cruel to her at school. I was there taking her on shopping trips, I could not afford, because she felt down about herself. The money I gave her mother for gifts at Christmas, so that her daughter would not feel left out during our visit over the holidays, even though her mother was $20,000 back in child support and had not paid more than $60 in the 6 years she had been living with me. Paying for dance lessons she wanted, and soccer she wanted, even when I couldn't afford my other son art lessons. I gave, only to hear insults that she "never saw me as a mother figure" that we had a strained relationship because she "refused to call me mother". Even though not one single time did I request this. Never once did I force myself on her. I just loved her. Suddenly it was for nothing.

Now here we are life....

Her "mother" the only person her father said she ever truly loved, receives a pay check from my husbands death. They are all a "happy family". A family I can't help but resent. Because it was me that fought for her relationship with the mother of his other two children. Sending birthday gifts, enduring the abusive insults for years from his ex, before I was able to break through and finally get her able to talk with her siblings. The trips I would run late at night and short on money to run her across the mountain in the snow to be there and rekindle their relationship.

The family with the "mother" that refused to ever support her daughter for years, only lies, and broken promises. The "mother' I endured countless name callings and insults from, attacking my looks, my weight, and even as low as telling me my first husband did what he did just to get away from me. The "mother" that for years Brian would tell me to break communication, block numbers, etc. But I refused, because looking at the little face of the girl I loved so much I could not remove her from her life. So instead I helped her go behind her father's back and ask everyone to please be mature, and why we can't all just get along and find a way to support one another as if we were an extended family. I wanted that little girl to have all the love in the world she could possibly have.

Now here I am eight years of all the tears, the sweat, the time and the money spent and I am nothing. She has her family and they are all happy. Completely disregarding everything I did to help them be a family, a family that ultimately destroyed my family.

They are happy. I was happy once too... we had a happy family once, or so I had believed... I guess it was always a lie. All the texts, all the messages, all the essays, and poems written about me being such a great "mother" and how lucky she was to have me and how much she loved me. All a lie... Just one giant lie to get what she could out of me, for all of them to get what they wanted out of me.

I struggle every single day of my life. Not only emotionally, but financially, still fighting for my children and keeping their home, their livelihood. Even though in the end it was me that loved him. It was my kids that stood beside him, and defended him, and loved him. We receive nothing. Nothing but the insurmountable bills.

No this isn't about money, but the fact of how unfair it is that these people all bashed my husband, through countless messages and posts wishing he were "dead". What a "dead beat father" he was, how much "help" he needed. How "abusive and evil" he was. Now they all get to enjoy in the glory of his death. Nothing more than a paycheck to all of them. Well he was so much more than that to me, to us, to my children. He was my husband, he was their father!

The only thing I want--is my husband back. I want him alive. I want him next to me every single day. I want to love him. Hold him. Kiss him. Bills were exhausting always, but with him I felt hope, and that it was all worth every moment. Every time I worked late, every time I was sore, and could barely move, it was worth every moment for my family. I fought for them, I struggled for them. I loved them...

I think back to my ex husband that is sitting in prison. How much does he suffer really? Was it worth doing the right thing? I turned him in for molesting my daughter, protecting my family, and for what? He will not ever have to worry about how to feed the kids every day, if the mortgage gets paid, He lives. When he gets out, he gets a whole new life. By the time he gets out he can actually start a new family if he wanted to. As disgusting as an idea this is, he can. He is sitting in prison, so child support is not something he worries about, in fact in the decree, since he is set to be in prison throughout my children's youth, child support was not ordered.

What was the point in making the right choice? If I had not turned him in, I would receive child support. If he were dead, the kids would receive social security. So, he pays no bills, he gets to live and be secure for his next meal and the lights are always on.

I guess there really is no price to pay for the protection of my daughter, as well as the protection of any other possible victims... There is no price you can actually put onto that. It just kind of sucks that I feel as though I am being punished for his mistakes, and for doing the right thing.

This isn't even just about me, and my family, and the unjust bullshit we have had to endure in life. It seems to be people in general. What the fuck is Karma? I have done nothing but try and do all the right things. I see others that are good people always doing the right things. Where is this so called Karma?

My husband received his "karma" by being dead. By beaten down to feel as though he was nothing but scum on the bottom of these peoples shoes. That the lies that were said, and lies that were reported, that he gave up trying to be clean, tired of feeling, tired of fighting. He gave up hope on why he should try, if his own daughter didn't want him, and everyone worked against him based off from his past transgressions, and criminal history. A criminal history that wasn't even violent. The karma he received by trying to be a good father and trying to protect his child from making mistakes, mistakes that could destroy her life.

Where is this supposed karma? Vacations and shopping trips? Happiness and freedom in new lives that was awarded with a check and not even a second thought for who was hurt? So long as they just keep receiving that check every single month.

The karma for the people that "legally kidnapped" his child. The lies, the harassment, the judgement, and overall mishandling of this case from the very beginning. They all got to move on close a case file and carry on their jobs to continue destroying other families. We are nothing but a fleeting past thought, a closed case. Who cares? They got what they were after proving my husband was "nothing but a junkie" not a person, not a father to the four kids that did want him. not a husband to a wife that adored him, that needed him.

No they won... they all won. Everyone except the five people left in this house that always believed in him, loved him, and wanted him to be their father, to be my husband.

Karma? Karma doesn't exist. Bad things happen to good people and good things happen to bad people. Karma was a word formulated to create fear or that "feel good feeling" that people are searching desperately for in their moments of hope, or moments of pain. Wishing karma on those that have done you wrong, or those doing good things, because you believe something good will happen to you because you were a good person or did a good deed.

Will I stop doing good things because I call bullshit on karma? No... I don't think I am wired that way. I don't like seeing others hurt. I will always help people when I can because frankly I am not an asshole. I am not "buying my way into heaven" I am not trying to prove any point. It is just who I am by nature. Will I ever get a damn thing out of it? No... I will still come home and wonder if my lights will be on today, and worry about my kids next meal. There's no magical check coming my way and no change of events. I will still have to get up and work my ass off every single day of my life, even though I don't even want to leave my house.

I don't know that I believe in miracles at all any more. I think there are good people and bad people and I think some people are fortunate to have good things happen to them not based on whether they are good or bad people, but just because shit fucking happens, and you either get shit on, or you get lucky.

There will still be assholes out there never having to admit they are assholes and never facing consequences for their asshole decisions that destroyed people's lives. They get to go on about their lives with their "happy families" and fuck the family they destroyed.

There will also always be the good people out there in the world always giving of themselves, and loving others, and will never receive an ounce of recognition, no pay back no "karma". They will still struggle, They will still live their shitty lives but they will do it with a smile and a hope for humanity. I believe I was once one of these people... I will still always give and do for others because I guess it's how I am wired. But my faith that good things happen to good people no longer exists.

Truth is, the world is an ugly place with a mix of good people and bad people. You have a choice if you want to be good or if you want to be bad but this notion of Karma, is bullshit. Be an asshole, hope it makes you feel good. Hope it makes you feel good destroying peoples lives. If that's your game, great, stay the fuck away from me, I am done with people like this. I am done believing that the world can intermingle and get along. Ugly, heartless people will band together and never change, so go live your heartless lives and hopefully you're happy. I just hope that the beautiful people with great hearts will never be tainted with negativity and can stay strong enough to create what little beauty that is left in the world. The world needs more light.

The one thing we need to stop is the notion of karma. There is no karma. Just life and actions, and consequences of our actions--of our choices, and the choices of others that effect many.

I am glad it is so easy for all of you to forget when this is my life, surrounding me every single second of every single day and every single night, until one day I may be blessed to no longer wake from this life, this hell that is on earth--in due time, since four children only have me that is left in their life. I live, no matter how much you wish me dead. 

Without you...

I am struggling today like any other day I guess. Just sometimes it becomes so incredibly unbearable! I have no idea where to turn to or who to scream to. Feels as though everyone is tired of listening to my same sorrows. Always trying to give me words of encouragement or telling me to get on meds or med check, counseling. You name it they all say it. There is nothing I haven't heard yet.

I don't know how to go on without you, I keep trying. I keep trying to find motivation, inspiration, and surround myself with my kids who need me. Yet, sometimes I feel like you are calling me to come to you. Or maybe that's more my own desires just wanting to go be with you...

This pain is excruciating. I love you. I have always loved you and to live without that love, feels like there is no purpose to live at all anymore. I miss our family that we once had. I miss the laughter I miss the love. I miss that I had someone to come home to and share in my day, my frustrations, my successes, my goals.

I try hard to cling onto Kiki, and knowing she needs me, I know all my kids do but the boys are so independent and Kiki has been through the most pain, and them most loss, I can't leave her. It feels so unfair sometimes to feel the burden of life.

It is so difficult to do what is right by my children when the only thing in the world I want to do is find the spot you died, take the sleeping bag you were on, that I sleep with every single night, and inject the poisons into my veins and let it all slip away so that you can come to me and take me, and I can be with you.

Life is so cruel, and the world is so ugly. I have no choice but to live on and keep going. I wish you were around finding ways to encourage me and give me strength to keep going--keep fighting. Instead, all I want to do is find you and be with you.

Never, not one day in my life have I ever not wanted to work, and yet I don't want to get up and exist outside of my home. I wish I could just find a way to stay home, not be apart of the outside world. I just want to stay here. If I can't go be with you, I would rather surround myself with you, your belongings, your memory. I am tired of pretending. I am tired of putting on the fake smile for the benefit of others. I just want to be left alone, be alone, if I can't have you apart of my world, I don't want to be apart of the world...

Unspoken Questions Answered

Sometimes in life we are put onto paths that truly humble us and educate us. I believe Brian sent me on one of these paths for a reason.

A few months ago, I woke up in the morning like every other morning, sad. I laid in bed put on my makeup and fixed my hair for the day, all while listening to songs that reminded me of Brian over and over again. I stopped, looked over at his pictures and his urn beside me and said "Can you talk to me? Send me some kind of sign like you care." I took a deep breath and continued getting ready for the day.

While I was at work talking with my coworker a bird flew up to the window, perched on the seal and looked in at us. I stopped mid sentence and looked at that bird, searching to see if that was by chance my husband reaching out to me. The cynic in me said "No, it's a bird". 

I then went to talk with our office manager that said she was thinking of me and the new fire pit the kids and I had built over the weekend, and she said she was contemplating buying me something at the store but wasn't sure, until she opened the car door and there was a penny laying on the ground. She is a firm believer in "pennies from heaven". So she bought the kids some supplies to make smores, and roasted starbursts. She said she knew it was him, and then gave me the penny. 

I went back to my office feeling just a little bit lighter, and while browsing around checking on my companies and any upcoming events I should be promoting, I came across an old Elvis Presley song "In His Hands". 

I had an appointment that day. See I suffer from SEVERE knee pain, I can barely walk most days it gets so bad.  Since my husbands passing I refused to take any medications. I didn't want to see any more pain doctors, to me they were all the same. They wanted money, they didn't care about the person. It had been about 4 months and the pain had gotten so bad that the only way I could describe it was the tin mans joints that were rusted and stuck. Now I don't abuse them, I take an extremely low dose, and I plan to always keep it that way, so I don't become dependent. I am too young to have the surgery needed on my knees, and no doctor has a clear answer on exactly HOW to treat my knees since they are a disaster in there. It took a lot for me to call the doctor, but I caved and had scheduled an appointment with the last doctor that prescribed my husband narcotics. 

I was very anxious. Not sure I wanted to go in there, but knowing I had no other choice. I was thankful I did. The doctor sat across from me and told me she was so thankful I came in. She wanted to reach out to me so many times but didn't quite know how to, or if she even legally could reach out to me, so she waited hoping I would walk through that door. 

Suddenly I felt as though Brian were in the room with us, sitting right next to her encouraging me to listen, like he needed me to hear this, the truth. His last moments. 

Everything I had thought happened at that doctors office was wrong. Brian had walked in there that day and wanted to be prescribed 4 oxycodone 30mg a day, and wanted Xanax. She looked at him and his charts and knew he had a problem, but she wanted to help him. She refused to give him any Xanax, and only continued to treat him with the 3 oxycodone a day, that had been previously prescribed from his referring doctor. She only gave him two weeks worth and told him when he comes back he needs to bring "his wife" me, with him. She wanted to make attempts to help him get off from oxycodone, but knew he needed support and her trust. She knows she could have turned him away, he followed all the behaviors and patterns of a drug addict, but she looked at him and knew there was SO much more to this man. She could see the goodness in him. She knew she wanted to help. 

She showed me that she was not the doctor that prescribed him Xanax. Now I know I could go searching for the doctor that gave him the Xanax, but the reality is that it won't change anything. He was seeking pills and he played the doctors. She wouldn't give him the Xanax he was looking for so he went elsewhere. I doubt the doctor that prescribed the Xanax knew he had just gotten prescribed oxycodone. He filled both prescriptions that Friday and that Saturday morning he was gone.

I had carried around so much bitterness and so much anger for the injustices of my husbands death. I am still angry, but now my anger is more directed at the original doctor that would not listen to me from the beginning that gave him an absurd amount of prescriptions that helped pave this horrific path we found our selves on over the course of the years. I still harbor anger for all the people that I had previously mentioned in other posts. But this time, this doctor, she was right. She has a great heart. I was humbled to realize that not ALL doctors only care about the money. She told me countless stories of people that she has turned away in the past, or patients she encouraged to seek treatment, and helped them manage their addictions. She showed how much she cares for people, not the money. 

I am thankful every time I see her. I find her heart to be true, and someone I can trust. She will make a difference in this world with one patient, and one addict at a time. Why? Because she truly cares, and I hope she never loses that passion, that heart, and that drive. 

Thank you for believing in my husband, thank you for trying your best. I am sorry we did not meet you sooner. Brian was with us that day. I know he was, because he needed me to listen to you, to trust you...and I do.

Happy, what would have been...

Yesterday I would have celebrated Brian's 34th birthday. I had hoped I would write this long commemorative blog this day. I really didn't know what to expect. I think it went better than I had planned I suppose. I didn't leave my bed all day. I took plenty anxiety medications to help me keep my emotions in check, nervous I would have some extreme moments. The tears came, off and on, but nothing too our of control.

I have found myself on the edge, several times, of just ending the pain. I had to fight off those demons within me and it took every ounce of strength I could muster to get through it. I eventually always made it but I don't think anyone understands how exhausting it is to get through those battles and those moments.

Today I woke up at noon, I don't ever sleep that long, but I guess I needed it. It was a lot of emotions I have been building up as of late...

Brian hated his birthday. Every year I would try to do something subtle for him, so that I could say I love him, and how thankful I am for his birth and his life, without making him feel uncomfortable.

The very first year we were together I made the mistake of buying him some birthday gifts and cards and took it to his door. He was vacuuming and he just looked at me, I stood there in the door with a huge smile of anticipation across my face, extending out the gift bag to him. He just stared at me with disgust, before saying "I don't want that." I was so angry I stormed out of his apartment and stewed over it for hours as I went to Riverton to do other shopping. When I got back I took the crumpled bag and left it at his door in a total crumpled mess. Then I wrote a note and that said "If you don't want it fine, take out your own trash."

The next day he showed up to work wearing the gift I had gotten him along with the cologne. He applogixed to me and told me that birthdays were just not a big deal to him and he preferred being left alone on his birthday.

Over the years I learned subtle things to celebrate. I made him a birthday cake with the Bengals emblam and just left it in the fridge, and went to work.Other times I would buy cologne and make him personalized cards and leave them on the bed while he was in the shower and I would head off to work. I have left his favorite candy and cologne in his night stand drawer for him to find on his own. His favorite gift, that even he couldn't ignore was the year he came home to his puppy, his beautiful pitbull puppy he always wanted. It was instant love. He cared for that dog so much! She was so much like him, they were comfortable laying in bed all day, sometimes until 3 in the afternoon. I could never understand it, but they were content. We named her Felony, it was the only gift he repeatedly thanked me for time and time again.

He never believed he was worth celebrating. He had so much self loathing for the mistakes he had made in his life. He always thought he would be dead by the age of 24. He never felt as though he was worthy of life. He had such a negative view on the fact that he was consistently battling his addiction, never saw himself as more than his addiction. He hated all the people he had hurt in his lifetime.

In his mind he had two kids that despised him and he never got to see them, and it tore him apart, and the one daughter he did have, he always said she hated him and wanted nothing more than to be with her mother, and him being alive was the only thing stopping her from being where she truly wanted to be. He always believed my kids would be better off without him, and that I could do so much better than him and he did nothing but complicate my life.

It tore me up every single time we had these conversations. He could not grasp the fact that I loved HIM. I chose him. I wanted my life with him. Was it always easy? No. It was damn hard! But it was worth every single sacrifice. Every complication. He was worth FIGHTING for! I fought like hell for him... I would have fought for him until the day I died, he WAS worth it.

He was so young. I am so young... To have to go on through this life without him is devastating. He should be here right now. For me to leave little secret presents. To enjoy the cake the kids made for him last night.

I love you Brian. I am happy you were born, and happy you came into my life and loved me, and gave me real love. I miss you.

My Eulogy...

I will always remember the first time I met Brian. I knew in that moment my life was changed forever. We had a strong bond and relationship for two years before we got together. He helped me and my children through a horrific time in our life.

We needed him, we needed Alexis; we needed a family. He saved our lives in more ways than one. I believe I was also there for him in his time of need. We needed each other, I knew God sent me this man and his beautiful daughter for a reason. He game my children the father they deserved and helped sculpt my young boys into amazing young men. He made my daughter feel safe and loved.

We had many ups and downs over the past 8 years, but I always believed we would somehow get through it, together, we always seemed to. We had a great love and even when we were pulled apart we were always drawn back together.

This man is my hero, always has been. My Superman.

Our last days together were a struggle, but even still, we knew we loved each other and even said as much. He will forever carry my heart...

We tend to rely on forgiveness and surety that our loved ones will always be there as I know I did. I thought we just needed a second to catch our breath. In our last moments there were tears, anger, and pain, but never short of love. I wish the last thing I ever said to him was "I love you". I wish I had held him in my arms, kissed his sweet lips and gazed into his gorgeous eyes full of love.

I will miss his smile, his smirk, his heart beat under my fingers as I rest my head among-st his chest as he would hold me and kiss my forehead. I knew I never wanted to be anywhere else in the world.

There are a lot of things I would take back if I could. To have him with me now to grow old together as we had promised. But life is too short, life is too unpredictable, and you don't know when it will be your last moment.

What I am trying to say is to: count every second, every moment as your last. Never take your loved one for granted. You will never be able to take back those words, those regrets. Love each other and be sure they know you do.

I love you Brian, although I know you knew I loved you, I should have said it more, I am sorry. I love you and will count every moment and every breath until we are together again.

Jordan's Eulogy

You could say that Brian and I had a rocky relationship, but most of the problems I had with him were stupid--like I would get mad when he told me to do my chores or to go to bed, but in reality he was just looking out for me and made sure I got my stuff done. So that I was ready for the next day. I only now realize the sacrifices he made for us: his time, his sanity, etc. He was always there for us and wanted us to make it in life and use him as an example of what not to do. But, if there is one thing that I made an example of is his love for his kids and my mom, I want to love my future wife and kids the same amount if not even more than he loved us, if that is even possible. Sure I am not going to do the bad stuff he did, because I didn't really make an example of that. Right now or ever for that fact, am I going to look back and think about all the bad stuff he did. I am going to look back and think about the good times I had. like playing Halo with him or him giving me life lessons to the very simple things like teaching me how to shave. My mom always thought that I never really had a male role model in my life and I never would, but Brian was a role model for me. My role model didn't need to be perfect and I didn't have to like him all the time, but he had guidelines that I respected and that I am going to take on as my own. For example: sacrifice for my loved ones. He sacrificed so much for us with little in return. Most people thing that we would do better off without him, and I used to think that too. But in reality, without him I would be a problem child, more than I am now. I wouldn't be here either, we would have lost our house and my mom would have been deemed unfit to care for us and we would have been taken and split apart into different foster families. Brian is the only reason why we are together and why we are here together and hopefully we can always stay together forward, without him.

DISCLAIMER: I never would have lost my children, but in the minds of a young one, I could see where this would be a fear.

Kiki's Eulogy

Brian was a great dad. He always thought he was the worst, but that's not true.He always did good for everyone, like he would pick up any ones garbage that's in their yard. He would always be nice, kind, and respectful.

It's funny how sometimes when someone doesn't like him and they are being rude, you can tell he wants to say something back but doesn't and just stays cool.

I loved how he would always be help with experiments or school work.

And how he always sings when he's really happy. One day I was sitting in my room playing on my phone while I was listening to Brian's music "Love Yourself" by Justin Beiber down stairs, when all of a sudden there was two voices singing, and so I went downstairs and I heard him singing it. It was one of his favorite songs, he would listen to it 24/7. When we all took turns listening to music he would always choose "Love Yourself" because he thought that Justin Beiber was so cool, because he went to jail and got a lot of tattoos on him. You would never expect Brian likes that song, because he's all into rap and then, there's the Bieber song.

I love how he always tried making food but fail, because he was already doing so many things.

I hear this pretty much everyday "Can I have money to go get a pop from Pit Stop?" I loved that when you went to the store with him he would buy you whatever you wanted.

Whenever we were sick he would be so sweet and kind.

I've always wanted him to see me grow up, he still can, but I had hoped it wouldn't be like this.

I loved how he would always recognize me every time I got good grades and would write a nice note under my report card.

I love the days when he was really happy and would do our chores, also because we would never do them.

Felony his dog, it's just the funniest thing, because he would always say that he's the pit bull, and Felony was him.

I wish I could say goodbye to him, but I couldn't. He left on Monday and I never saw him again until Friday, a week after everything happened. I never got to tell him that he was my true dad, and that I loved him.

He was the best dad ever.

Caleb's Eulogy

Brian was a great father. He loved us and we loved him. He helped us with homework and when we would step out of line or do something bad he would tell us to fix what we are doing wrong. He could be really funny at times. He taught me a lot of things. He taught me how to build and fix things, He also taught me how to chop wood and saw wood. A lot of people knew him as a bad person but that wasn't him. He was a good person and a great role model for us even though some things weren't good. I really did love Brian and I wish that he was still alive.

Brendan's Eulogy

Brian meant a lot to me and a lot to everyone here. He did a lot to protect my family and make it perfect. Well nobody is perfect but Brian tried his best to make things perfect. What I liked most about him while he was still with us, is when we would hang out and watch sports and whenever I asked him we would go out and play basketball and the last time I played basketball with him, it was windy and I was beating him in a game of 21. I was up by 6 points and then he stopped and said "I'm going to go get better shoes on and get out of these flip flops," but the fact was he wasn't wearing flip flops, he was tennis shoes. But then I still beat him and then we went inside and he started to sneeze and cough. A little bit after that, he said "I think I am allergic to losing." And that is the best memory that I had with him. I am going to miss him, we all are. Thank you for letting me speak about a wonderful person and an amazing father.

All For Nothing

I used to believe everything happened in our life for a reason, and now I suddenly am completely lost. No way was this for a reason. What I am going through as well as everything I have gone through in my life, suddenly makes no sense...

I remember a conversation I had with my husband a couple years ago. He was always so down about life, and why bad shit always happened, and I would tell him "because as tragic and horrible as it is, it has always led to better things." He used to admire my optimism and faith in life. I lost that the day I lost him.

I woke up this morning and looked at my phone to realize what today was--June 23rd. Tears instantly started streaming down my face. It's not fair. It's not fair I have to be going through this.

Six years ago today, I had just gotten hit with the horrifying truth that my first husband, and I am not sure what to call him--not father, not dad, not sperm donor, just this person that I didn't really know, yet had bore all four of my children with him--had molested my four year old daughter, his own DNA.

I had gotten suspicious that something was wrong, but convinced myself I had to be wrong. Yet I had to know for sure to protect my child, my children. I had taken my daughter to the hospital the day before and they gave her a full exam only to come back and tell me there was trauma to the area but until the labs came back they would not know for certain, and that would take 9 weeks. I sat there in that room surrounded by DFS, and the Lander police detective, asking what I wanted to do. I told them I had to know. I couldn't wait for tests to come back. I couldn't risk him hurting my daughter if this was really happening. I was convinced I was wrong, I kept telling myself and everyone around me that it can't be true, that I was a monster for even suspecting something like this... But, I had this horrible nagging pit in my stomach that would not go away, and I knew I had to find out the truth.

I took the day off and set up a video camera in my daughters room. It took every ounce of strength I had to do this. I kept telling myself it wasn't true, and kept battling with what I should do. Finally after hours of walking around her room, and setting the camera up a million different times, I walked out. That night was awful! I pretended to go to bed, and I heard footsteps again in her room and that minute or two felt like an eternity! I got up and made as much noise as I could and he came out of her room, mind you the majority of his disgusting actions were done in her sleep. I retrieved the camera and refused to watch it that night out of fear. I knew if what I suspected was on that camera, I would end up dead or in prison. People who are confronted feel like a cornered dog, and I was afraid he would kill me to silence me, or I would kill him out of sheer rage.

I laid awake all night in bed staring at the ceiling praying to God I was wrong. When he went off to work I pulled out the camera, and as you can imagine, it was every mother's worst nightmare, right there playing reel for reel in front of my very eyes.

I called my best friend at the time in a panic and told her she had to take me to the police station immediately. I called my sister to come sit with my kids, and called my boss and told him I would not be in. I had to tell everyone what was going on and then I went to the police station and sat on the curb outside waiting for the detectives to come in for the morning to hand over the recorder.

I spent the remainder of my day curled up on my friends couch just staring in disbelief and total disgust, waiting to hear back from the detective after the questioning of this pedophile. The detective came and met me at my friends house and sat down in front of me and broke down in tears and told me that he had confessed to the entire thing. He stated that it had not gone on for long but yes, he had been doing this while she was sleeping.

It was over... my daughter was safe...

What I was not prepared for was the nightmare that would happen afterwards.

I was attacked verbally, through text messages, phone calls, Facebook posts, and messages. I was terrified to leave my house or answer any phone calls, I had only informed a very small handful of the necessary people what had happened, but when you live in a small town it does not take much to make the word travel fast. I avoided all phone calls and messages just stared off in space often in disgust and full of self blame. I was in shock!

The very next morning, my phone rang and I looked down to see it was Brian. I excused myself and stepped out on my porch and answered the phone.

"Kristie? What is going on? Why did I just hear from Alexa that your husband just got arrested for molesting your daughter? Why the FUCK didn't you call ME?! I shouldn't hear this from someone else!"

I just broke down crying and said "I don't know. I don't even know how all of this got out. I don't know what to do..."

"First thing you should have done was call ME! You should have told me and I could have handled it. What do you need me to do?"

"I'm scared Brian I don't know... I'm scared..."

"Do you want me to come sleep on your couch? Are you scared he will get out and someone will hurt you?"

"I don't know. Maybe... I don't know..."

"Well call me if you need me. For fucks sake don't let me hear about anything like this again through someone else!"

We hung up the phone and I went back inside. To face my life, to face reality...

I got numerous calls and texts from concerned friends, and people that would stop by, and eventually they all stopped coming by. Brian didn't, he was there everyday. He called me and texted me multiple times a day.

When I started work again, he would stop by my work every single day to check on me. One point after some horrific enounters with individuals, I became terrified of leaving my work or my home. I had developed severe social anxiety. Brian had stopped by to see me and could see the distress on my face and he asked me what was wrong, and I told him I was scared to leave my home or work. I didn't want to go grocery shopping I didn't want to even drive to work. I just wanted to be hide. I was scared of everyone.

He looked at me and told me "If you need me call me. If you need someone to go to the store with you I will go grocery shopping with you. If you are scared to walk across the street, call me, I will walk you across the street."

He was there for me, when no one else knew how to be. It seemed that with the darkness of his past he was able to use that to make me feel safe. He had witnessed so much evil and bad in his life, that he was not intimidated, or lost on how to be there. He was always there... even when I would try to push him away.

To top this off he had this little girl that was always alone. Her father was going through a nasty custody battle with the mother of his other two children, so she had little to no contact with her siblings at this time. I hated seeing her run around by herself and I was afraid something would happen to her. I felt this need to protect her. He was working from sun up to sun down, so I found myself taking her in daily.

Little did I know that her and my daughter would form an instant bond. I never knew that Kiki craved for a sister. Especially at a time I felt lost. They seemed to lean on one another. This little girl had become the greatest thing to happen to my daughter, and at that time I believed she needed my daughter too, and me. Or so she had me believe for so long...

Brian and I continued to grow closer, in his need to help me and distract him from losing his other two kids, in his need to have a positive female influence in his daughter's life. My need to feel as though I were "protecting" a child from being harmed from others. The need for my daughter to have someone to bond with and gain a "sister".

He was struggling with finances and was ready for a career change and so he ended up getting a job working next to me. I was so disgusted with my life, and what had happened that it became physically impossible for me to eat, or sleep. I would stay up until 3am and then wake up at 5am every single day. In that time I kept trying to fix various things in my house. Trying to prove my independence.

Brian began to baby feed me at work. Knowing I believed it rude to tell anyone no or turn down food, he would bring food to me everyday, not push it on me. He would bring the food set it down in front of me and then walk away, I would pick at it, hesitantly, here and there until eventually he could see I was done and then he would take it away. He made sure my water bottle was consistently full. If I were talking with a customer her would come get my bottle and fill it then hand it back to me.

I lost 80 lbs in 3 months and every person I encountered would talk about how "good" I looked. I hated it. I didn't earn it. I was wasting away out of horror and disgust, not hard work. I became increasingly annoyed. Brian never once mentioned my weight. Not before, not after, not during. He just fed me.

He put up with all of my crazy mood swings. When I would lash out and try to push him away, he would drive over at 2am just to calm me down. To sit with me in the dark and let me read text messages that were too long for him to send. He would always answer my frantic messages.

The very first court date I had to attend I had thought I could do it on my own. I had not asked anyone to go with me. I don't like inconveniencing others, I figured that this is my life, and I have to live it. When it was time for me to go, he looked at my face, and asked if I had someone to go with me. With my lips pursed together and all the blood drained from my face, I shook my head and walked out the door. I made it halfway to my car when Brian came up behind me and said "You should NOT be doing this alone. I'm going with you." I knew this was a huge risk for him, he had just started working there and he had told our boss that he didn't care, he was going. Thankfully my boss, although shocked, was impressed that Brian had stepped up as a man and was not going to let me do this on my own.

Brian went with me to every court date. It was difficult for him to sit there since he wanted nothing more than to lunge at my ex and kill him, but he knew that the greatest thing he could do was just be there for me, in silence.

When I fell behind on my mortgage, I was at a loss for what to do. I was losing everything all at once. I broke down in tears. I sat in the hallway behind my office and cried. Brian came to check on me, since I had been gone for so long, and when he asked what was wrong, I handed him the foreclosure papers.

"What are you going to do? You can't lose your house. That house doesn't belong to you, it belongs to your kids."

"I don't know. I don't know what to do. I have to file bankruptcy on all the other debts. I have nothing left."

"Well you better get up and make some phone calls you can't let this happen. You have to get up and fight."

I stood up and I went to him and put my arms around him and began crying more.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Just hold me. I just want you to hold me and tell me everything is going to be okay."

He stood there with his arms down at his sides and became very aggravated and annoyed.

"Fine, but crying and holding you isn't going to save your house."

"FUCK YOU! Just GO!"

I pushed him away and went to the bathroom with renewed anger, I looked at myself in the mirror and pulled myself together, he was right. I was being weak and I had to do something.

I walked out of the bathroom and began making phone calls to my attorney. I noticed Brian was gone, figuring he went to lunch, I was still pissed at him, even if he was right.

About an hour or so later Brian walked back in the door and handed me an envelope of money, there was $3000 in there and that combined with my check would save my home. I just stared at him in shock. He told me he had taken out a loan, he couldn't let my kids lose their home.

During this time, as you can imagine we had fallen in love. Deeply in love. In fact most would argue we had been in love for two years before this. We had a friendship for years. Somehow always leaned on each other often. Yes, even sexual. I am not proud of the fact that I had "cheated" on my ex. I will always defend my actions, even if it really doesn't matter, wrong is wrong. I had tried to leave my ex for two years. We had not been happy for several years prior to our first break up. I knew we were over and there was no hope for us, and no love left, I just didn't want to hurt him, or my family, so I always found myself going back to my ex for peace's sake.

Brian was the first person I slept with outside of my marriage, however, he was not my last. I had slept with four other people. Most of those were right after my ex had been arrested. To me it was the only way I could distract myself in the middle of the night. I refused medication, drinking, so to get my mind off from everything I used sex. Brian was the only person that was a consistent. Never thought we would have a real relationship. I didn't even know I ever wanted one again. Yet, we fell in love, long before either of us were willing to admit that we were.

Brian became my hero, he saved my life, my kids saved my life, and the daughter I believed for so many years was mine, saved my life.

As horrible as everything was for us to go through I believed that maybe it was for a reason. I told Brian several years later "Yes, it was tragic what we went through, but look what we gained out of it. I found love, real love! We have each other. My children have the father they deserve, Kiki has a sister she longed for, I gained a daughter. We became a family. So as awful as it was to go through it, I count my blessings that we have each other..."

Now I sit here. On June 23rd, six years after that horrific day, and my husband is gone. The daughter I thought was mine, and loved as mine, has completely turned on me, left my daughter hurt and alone, no longer the sister she thought she had. No father to guide my boys into manhood, no father there to protect the little girl he swore to always be there to protect. The verge of losing my home once again...

I remember all the times and all the years I would tell my mom I was not happy and I wanted to leave my husband, I could not handle how much he degraded me, I hated his addiction to porn. I hated that he always put his needs first above everyone else. She would always tell me time and time again "At least he's not a woman beater, a cheater, a drunk, or a drug addict." I will always remember this because that "drug addict" was more of a man, more of a father, more of a husband than my sadistic ex ever could be.

I can't see the light... I can't see the reasoning. I see only pain. He was my hero. He was my light in my total darkness. Now I'm surrounded in clouds of darkness. Children that need me to protect them from anymore pain in there life, with my little desire to live on. Because right now, I don't see a reason for any of this. None... there is no reason. Just a curse, of the lives I touch. The only thing I can keep thinking is that God took the wrong one. I don't care who hears me say this, but he did, He got it wrong. Brian was a troubled soul but he was a good man, and the heart of my life. He taught me how to live, and now I am lost, without him. This, all of this, was for nothing...