September 24, 2008

National Victim's Rights Week Observance

I don't travel this road much anymore. But when I do, usually twice a year, for these services, the memories flood back. Driving at night on the twisty road, feeling tired and yes, somewhat irritated. But you were too young to drive, and it was a good place for you to hang out in those days. And so I took you to and from the Perk on this winding road, through old pretty houses & trees.

I don't travel this road much anymore. You eventually moved on to other things, eventually were able to drive, eventually didn't hang out at the Perk. So I had no reason to drive down this road anymore.

I don't travel this road much anymore. Except for twice a year. We turn off the winding road, over the bridge, stop at the sign..........and there is the Perk. Under new management now, nonsmoking now. But we pass it by, no one to drop off, no one to wait for at closing time. No one playing guitar on the patio. We pass by.Just a block.......THEN we park. By a green field with a stone memorial. The Wichita Chapter of the Parents of Murdered Children organization. Your name is third from the bottom, far right, fourth panel

Other people are here tonight, many others, in our haphazardly arranged lawn chairs, most of us not knowing each other, but having a bond nonetheless. A horrible bond, one we never wanted.

Thanks to the homicide detective who spoke from his heart about the things he's learned from the family members of homicide victims. Thanks to the writers, poets, & songwriters who gave us the readings and songs we listened to....and cried through.

My best memory of tonight is watching the red candles flickering in their clear votive holders, lined up on top of the memorial stones, illuminating their small area as the sun went down. There is always hope. Somewhere. Somehow. Even though I'll never hear your voice or your laugh, or see you grow older -- cheated out of a growing mother/son relationship. Robbed of you by a man with a knife.

Still, there is hope.White balloons, shimmering in the dark sky, maybe a hundred of them, released at the same time, lifted by the wind to sail on to unknown places, carrying the names of our loved ones cut down at the hand of another. Tears, hugs, understanding eyes, pain............yet always, hope.

I miss you, Paul, and I will never get over missing you. This hole in my heart will never heal completely. My baby boy, my son. I lit a candle for you tonight. I released a balloon for you tonight. I cried for myself tonight. I remember you tonight. And tomorrow. And every day of every tomorrow of my earthly life. Until I see you again.