My Immortal

My Immortal
Evanescence

I’m so tired of being here.
Suppressed by all my childhood fears.
And if you have to leave,
I wish that you would just leave.
Cause your presence still lingers here,
and it won’t leave me alone.
These wounds won’t seem to heal,
this pain is just too real,
there’s just too much that time cannot erase.
When you cried I’d wipe away all of your tears,
When you’d scream I’d fight away all of your fears.
I held your hand through all of these years.
But you still have…
All of me.
You used to captivate me by your resonating mind,
Now I’m bound by the life you left behind.
Your face it haunts my once pleasant dreams
Your voice has chased away all the sanity in me.
These wounds won’t seem to heal,
this pain is just too real,
there’s just too much that time cannot erase.
When you cried I’d wipe away all of your tears,
When you’d scream I’d fight away all of your fears.
I held your hand through all of these years.
But you still have…
All of me.
I tried so hard to tell myself that you’re gone.
But though you’re still with me,
I’ve been alone all along.
When you cried I’d wipe away all of your tears,
When you’d scream I’d fight away all of your fears.
I held your hand through all of these years.
But you still have…
All of me.

phantoms in photos

A WFPD Investigator is claiming there were no guitars with Rick. Odd, considering I had seen a picture or video frame with a guitar broken against the curb. While looking for proof of the guitar’s existence I opened the photo published in the newspaper. I saved this photo from the newspaper’s website.

As you can see, the original is small, so I opened it in Windows Picture and Fax Viewer to zoom in.

I highlighted only a few. The photo is literally covered with them.
If you want to have a look for yourself, a copy of the original is here.

is one normal day so much to ask?

One normal day.

One day that I am not waiting on phone calls from lawyers, rushing to the post office, beating a legal deadline, putting out fires, worrying, running in circles, chasing down keys to gates and cars and houses, moving, worrying, packing, unpacking, researching, writing letters, ducking, dodging, standing my ground, playing nice, did I say worrying?

God, one day, that’s all I need, just one damn day. Please. I feel like I’m turning into Rick. Never enough time to do everything I need to do, not enough of me to go around. Everyone needs something, wants something, and the law demands this be done by then. Why can’t anyone or anything about this nightmare cut me a break?

I swear to God the next person I make a trip to Wichita Falls for who then says, “We’re going to have to do this tomorrow,” better not be within reaching distance.

I’m so sick of it, Rick’s ex-wife, his blood sucking thieving attorney, his brother, all pointing at me, so afraid I’m going to walk out of this nightmare with a fucking match stick to my name. What the hell are you worried about?! You think Rick had the Hope Diamond stored at my house? No water at the old house in over a year, no electricity for 2 months before Rick got killed, no car, and was bumming rides to my sisters house to eat a fucking sandwich every other day! No TV, well I had a TV, but it was at Rick’s, and you stole it after he died. No stereo, no VCR’s, no DVD players, $2000 in debt to my grandparents for bail money for Rick, and that’s just the beginning of the list.

My own fault? Yeah, I guess it is. Forgive me, but I couldn’t just walk away and leave my husband swinging in the wind. None one of you were concerned, or making any effort, to help him or watch his back!

It was only a few hours, HOURS, after he died. You had changed the locks on his house, taken anything of value, sold it, and cleaned out the safe. The whole time pointing fingers at me and saying “Watch out, she’s going to screw us out of everything”. You know what, FUCK YOU! Then you have the nerve to call me and say Rick’s son wants to hurry and separate what’s left because he needs to sell his share to pay his probation?! Excuse me? Rick did not work his ass off the last 3 years to pay D’s probation for him. Yes, he would have helped, but wouldn’t have given it to him on a silver platter. Take your lazy little butt out and get a job, act like an adult, do something with your life instead of using what happened to Rick as an excuse to fuck it off.

You all cared for him and loved him so very, very much. Yet not one of you have done anything to confirm Rick wasn’t a victim of foul play. I forgot, you did do something. You spoke to one attorney to find out if there were grounds for a civil suit. The attorney didn’t think so, and that was the end of that. I’ve spoken to half a dozen attorneys, civil rights agencies, the Attorney General, not because I’m planning a civil suit, but because I want the truth about what happened. I could not live with myself if I didn’t make every attempt to confirm he wasn’t the victim of foul play.

It makes me so sad for him that no one else has fought for him. You owed him more than that.

status quo

I went by our houses today. Eerily quiet now, both locked into lives that used to be. It’s strange how nothing appears to have changed, yet everything has. I parked in your driveway, and sat staring at your door. Wishing, willing you to come walking out. If I concentrated hard enough, I could envision Rex at the gate, the grass cut, and you hurrying out to your car. I try so fucking hard, but it isn’t enough. I can’t wish hard enough to undo time.

The Reason

The Reason

Hoobastank

I’m not a perfect person
As many things I wish I didn’t do
But I continue learning
I never meant to do those things to you
And so I have to say before I go
That I just want you to know

I’ve found a reason for me
To change who I used to be
A reason to start over new
and the reason is you

I’m sorry that I hurt you
I It’s something I must live with everyday
And all the pain I put you through
I wish that I could take it all away
And be the one who catches all your tears
That’s why I need you to hear

I’ve found a reason for me
To change who I used to be
A reason to start over new
and the reason is You [x4]

I’m not a perfect person
I never meant to do those things to you
And so I have to say before I go
That I just want you to know

I’ve found a reason for me
To change who I used to be
A reason to start over new
and the reason is you

I’ve found a reason to show
A side of me you didn’t know
A reason for all that I do
And the reason is you

bullies

All these questions keep running through my head. Theories, what-ifs, what’s-that’s….maddening sometimes. I wonder if they know what kind of hell this is to live in, it doesn’t matter, they obviously don’t give a damn. Drives me crazy, THEY say they stand behind their actions, THEY say they did nothing wrong, then why the hell do they refuse to show me what happened? WHY?! If your guys screwed up, they screwed up, it happens. Are you so full of yourselves you can’t admit making a mistake? I might actually have a little respect for you if you stood up and said, “Damn, we screwed up.” But this slithering and hiding behind laws that were put in place to protect the citizens of this country from being bullied by you is wrong. There’s nothing uglier than a bully, bullying a little person, just because they can.
And your argument/reasons not to release the information to me, “Because you fear a lawsuit,” this is insane! Why would you fear a lawsuit if “you didn’t do anything wrong.” (Your words, yours!!!!!!!!) All I want is the truth, that’s it, just the truth. Why is that so much to ask for?

breaking dishes

I find myself telling this story a lot lately….

Remember the night at the trailer, the kids were spending the weekend . We were all in the kitchen laughing and joking, cooking supper. We started talking about the dishes that advertised on TV years ago. Glass, but unbreakable. Someone was always tripping and falling in the commercials, plate flying out of their hands. The camera panned down to the dish just before it hit the floor, would make you cringe in anticipation of breaking glass. Then *bounce*.

You said, “Mom bought me some of those dishes once. I think this is one of them,” then you grabbed a dish from the cabinet and flung it towards the floor. We watched, fully expecting the plate to bounce , instead it shattered -scattering glass across the kitchen. Silence, the kids looked at me, I looked at them, we looked at you.

You calmly reached for another plate, “hmm… must have been one of these ,” another plate crashed to the floor.

You reached for another plate, frisbee’d it to the floor. How many plates did you break that night? 5? 6? Before finally saying matter-of-factly, ” I guess I don’t have any more of those unbreakable ones.”

By then we were almost rolling in the floor from laughing so hard. Always the unexpected with you baby. I miss that so much. Maybe I’ll break a dish for us tomorrow

maybe crazy?

This sucks! I know I’m not crazy, and I know I saw someone walking around behind the house. It was about 30 yards into the pasture, wearing a tan shirt. At first I thought it was my grandpa checking on the cattle because they were bawling and carrying on. I called him, and he was inside the house. After I told him what I’d seen he got on the 4 wheeler and drove around the pasture, seeing nothing. Of course I had to check it out for myself, so off I go. Right there where I saw whoever it was, there was a place in the grass wallowed down where someone had been laying, and a fresh boot print. It rained last night, so I know the print is new, and I don’t own a pair of boots. My grandpa said he hadn’t had his on in over a year. Of course he laughed at me, laughed it all off.
Now I get it, it doesn’t matter what the hell is or isn’t happening because everyone thinks I’m losing my mind. I can almost hear the conversation , “Well, you know, she’s been through so much.” It happens. Too much stress. Sometimes a mind just never recovers from the death of a spouse.”
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck me!
Ironically, I was telling my mom just the other day, if I am going crazy, I wish I’d get on with it. They could commit me to an institution, and forget about me. And I could be lost in some altered reality where my husband isn’t dead, and maybe, just maybe, I could get one nights’ sleep….

“are you suffering from deperession?”

I thought if I could get away from the bad memories, the old house, it would be a fresh start. New house, new attitude. Doesn’t work that way. I look around here, and I don’t care about this house either. Boxes still packed and stacked, clothes laying where I took them off- who the fuck cares? “Not I,” said the fly. Must be what the TV commercials are talking about,

“Are you suffering from depression?”

(Laugh my ass off), um, maybe…lets see, “husbands dead, lost my home, my family, yeah, I’m suffering,” is this enough God? Have I suffered enough? Doubt it, it’s never enough, is it?

full circle

It’s happening again. Rick’s brother has slipped into the shoes Rick was wearing. I hate this, watching my sister in law’s heart breaking. Jesus, doesn’t he see what he’s doing to her, to their family, their home, to himself. Please God, give her the strength she needs to get through this, away from, out of this cycle. I want to tell her everything will be OK but I know better. Nothing will ever be OK again. There are no words that make the hurting stop. No magic words to fix everything. That dark, lonely place, consumes your life and you pray to God, and you beg that fate will step in and bring him home again. You watch helpless, as he spirals out of control, teetering on the edge yourself, you reach and reach, part of you wanting to just let go and fall with him because at least you’ll be together. But knowing if you lose your foothold too, he won’t have a chance. And that’s all you want for him really. A chance to live, to find peace, or whatever it is they so desperately seek. Please God , see her through this, hold her head when she cries, protect him for her.