David’s birthday was July 3rd. My mother wanted to have a birthday party for him. I thought that was really weird. We all showed up anyway and it was really weird. Was I the only one bothered by having a birthday party for a dead person? I guess we do celebrate the birthdays of a lot of dead people. We celebrate President’s Day, Martin Luther King Day and of course let’s not forget Jesus.
I remembered learning in psychology class that everybody handles grief differently. I did not want to handle grief I just wanted to wake up from this nightmare and have David here with us.
I started to feel very disconnected from my family. Not from my kids but from my mother, sister and brothers. I wondered why. Had I done something wrong? On the other hand maybe it was because I was doing nothing. I just slept. I wanted to see a ghost. I wanted Dave to be in my dreams and I wanted him talking to me. Just like on that day after the funeral when he tickled my toes and asked me to get up and make coffee. I wanted him to tell me what actually happened and why. I believed in ghosts and angels and thought because I believed I would see.
Jimmy Galione was out on bail. I hoped I would not run into him. I was so confused because I thought if you were charged with murder there was no bail. I had a lot to learn about our justice system. I kept wondering when the others would be charged. Randy just kept saying be patient. I had no other choice, so I trusted him.
I woke up one morning and dreaded the thought of getting out of bed. That was everyday, but this day I felt so heavy. I realized it was Saturday. Saturday was always the day I slept late. I laid there in my bed for a long time, thinking. I thought about my family. What was going to happen to us? Would we ever be close again? How in the world will we ever get past this horror? I wanted a cup of tea so I forced myself to get up. I made it half way down the steps and sat down. I heard voices. It was my kids. They were talking about me and wondering what they could do for me. What could they do to help me get through the loss of my brother? I heard Jill saying she could not even imagine losing her brother. I started to cry. I always thought I was a good mother. Really I was a fake. Oh I loved them so much it hurt. But I could have done so much more for them.
Maybe I should have worked things out with their father and stayed with him. I should have sacrificed my happiness for theirs. I had been in relationships that were not always healthy. That was not a good example. My financial situation was always up and down. Sometimes I did really well and at other times we were down right poor. Every thing I ever wanted to be for them I was not. Now here I was sitting on a step feeling so sorry for myself I could not even function. They were so young to have something this horrific happen in their lives. They still had their grandmother, grandfather and great-grandmother. This was the first time they ever had to face death.
I felt so guilty. I should be there for them. I sat on that step and decided that I would pull myself together and some how, I would be a role model for these kids. I would find some way to make something good come out of this horror. I had no idea what I would do but I would figure something out. I went back upstairs and took a shower. I did not cry but I thought I would just wash all the sorrow off and let it go down the drain. I talked to God. This is a very bad thing that happened. I’m not angry with you, but I would like to understand. I asked God to help me. My kids were still here. I had Birna and baby Michael. I thanked God for them. I needed to think about my grand babies Allyson and Kyle.
I never thought about being angry with God and I found that strange. I was angry with the murderers. I wondered why I was not angry with God. That I would figure out some other day; not today.
They say every face in a crowd has a story to tell, this is my story..
The news shows and newspapers all called it 'Road Rage'. To me that sounded like a disease, an affliction that can make you kill. A sorry excuse to take the claw end of a hammer and slam it repeatedly into the skull of a human being. In April of 1999 my little brother passed away. Doesn't passed away sound so gentle, even normal? David's death was neither. It was murder. He was found lying in a strangers driveway in a pool of blood. He had been punched, stomped and beaten over his entire body. I still have so many questions. I wrote this book at first for therapy and then for answers. I have found a few. I mainly realized l lost a brother tragically and senselessly. Like every other face in the crowd I have a story..and I want to share my story with you! PUBLICATION DATE TO BE ANNOUNCED LATE SUMMER/EARLY FALL :)