Family

Today I received a text message from my step-children’s mom. I expect a phone call tonight. I expect. That phrase alone makes me blood boil. You expect a phone call. From your kids. Who were abused. Who are now going back to you because of a judge’s unethical decision. I have lived and breathed custody cases for the last 6 years. A decision was made yesterday that destroyed my entire belief system. My wonderful, beautiful, smart, and sensitive, physically and sexually abused in your care, step children whom I have cared for with open heart while caring for my own, are being sent back to you. You who denied the abuse for three years. You who fought us every step of the way when we asked for them to remain in a safe environment. I responded by asking for an apology. The texts I...

Dear Kids, I don’t know much about you, other than there were 5 of you, around 18, possibly under, and that you drive a red Honda Fit. Just 6 years ago, I was 18 too, and although I drove a blue Ford Focus and not a Honda Fit, I remember that feeling of freedom you felt driving around town with all of your friends. I do not believe you targeted us specifically, or held any ill will towards our family, but rather, we were just one of many houses you struck on October 28th, 2015. It was around 10pm, and my husband and I had just put the pumpkins on the porch maybe 10 minutes prior to your visit (talk about bad timing). We had put our 3 year old son, Landon, to bed at 9:30 that night because he got to have a special late night with just mommy and daddy carving pumpkins after we had...

When my brother died, I dissociated from myself. I saw what was going on, but it was as if I was watching from afar like nothing that was happening was real. The only thing that shocked me from my numb state was when people came up to me and told me said, "I know how you feel." No, you have no idea how I feel. You cannot begin to imagine how I feel, nor can I understand what is going in your head if a loved one of your's has died. It seemed so rude that while I could barely speak people couldn't help but say that they went through the same thing I was going through or go as far as to compare the death of my brother to the death of their cousin four times removed that they spoke to once. Why do you have to insert yourself and make the conversation about you when even his name is too hard...

Dear Mom and Dad, It’s been 890 days since the day that you both decided not to partake in my wedding. I don’t know why it’s taken me this long to say anything about it. Perhaps I’ve been afraid of what the family will think, what the family might say. Or perhaps I’ve been afraid of losing even more of my wonderful, beautiful family, whom I think about day and night. But the time is now because I’ve finally grown too tired of the 890 days and nights of being haunted by your presence—by your lack of presence, to be more precise. I’m tired of night after night of dreaming of you. And tonight, I had the most unpleasant of dreams—one that jolted me from my sleep and disallowed me to return to it. So at 6:22 a.m., after little more than three hours of sleep, I’m writing this letter to...