I have days where I sit and just watch television shows about murder, death, emergency rooms. I did this a lot shortly after my Tia Andrea died. I would watch and try to understand what happened to her. How scared she was, if she ever had a chance.
They moved her from her initial hospital er to one more equipped to deal with this type of trauma. Which I in turn took as a good sign. I mean why would they transfer her if she didn’t have a chance. If she wasn’t somewhat stable? Right? Well it was almost as soon as we got there they called back the family and said she had passed.
I just remember my mom walking out crying, by herself, and all she could say was she didn’t make it. What?! She didn’t make it. I ran to her. 6 months pregnant and so lost I ran to her and made her sit on a bench. I remember my dad coming over so upset. After that I don’t remember what happened next.
I think about that often. It seem like yesterday some days. Like today. Where I watched The First 48 over and over. Sympathizing with the families. Knowing and feeling their pain. I see my Tia in each and every one of them.
I silently cry inside. I don’t know why I do this. Maybe this Is how I get it out? When I need to cry I do this. I think because I’ve always wanted to understand how and why so much. I do this try to and see why violence happens. This is an extreme case of domestic violence. Where the husband loved his wife to an obsessive place. To a place where if he didn’t want his life anymore so he took her with him. What I don’t get is why he did this to her kids. He loved them like they were his own. Hell from what I have seen he treated them better than his own! So why would he take their mother from them? Sometimes when we are out and about, especially at Home Depot or Lowe’s I see him. I last saw him at Lowe’s and sometimes I glance down an aisle and he is there. My heart stops and I want to run to him. I want to scream at him. Then I realize of course it’s not him. That coward is dead too.