I think about the afternoon Chad was sentenced. The words "15 years to life" are etched in me like an epiphany on a headstone. An eery feeling comes across me when I hear those words in my mind when it's so quite. It's when I really think what the true meaning of that phrase is. When I think of the "15", I associate it with not being so long and he'll be back before I know it but then when I hear the words "to life", it's almost like my heart stops beating for a minute, I get a cold feeling and I'm quickly reminded of the reality that life will more than likely be the actual time frame Chad will do if he holds on and makes it. LIFE! That's a really long time and I might not be alive if ever gets the chance to walk out of prison. So needless to say, I'm not coming to terms with the "life" part of it very well at all. Not yet anyway.
I hope and wonder about "her name" and her family. Hoping they are doing as well as they can and hoping her dad was able to read my letter. I include them in my prayers and hope nothing but the best for them. I ask God to bless each and every one of them with what they need and that he is healing their hearts as much as they can be.
I ask myself over and over what will my next entry be about? Is this blog even making sense? Is it helping me get through the hard times and face what my brother has become? Is it helping me forgive myself and not hold the tremendous guilt I do for his demise. There is 10 years of addiction and a lifetime before that of issues leading up to his addiction. That's a lot too remember, but if anybody can, I guess it would be me. For hell sake I remember things that happened when I was a little, little girl that people can't believe I'm able to remember because they don't until I remind them of it.
There's only a portion of my life I don't remember much about and that's when I was married to my first ex-husband (there are two). I was beat and abused for 6 years, the length of my marriage, and because of the abuse I suffered, I'm not able to remember most of the time I lived in Vegas which was 9 years. I guess it's a good thing I don't remember much of that time. It's a blank, a blur, and it takes a deep conversation with somebody or with my family for me to start remembering a certain memory they are trying to remind me of. I figure God doesn't want me to dwell on it because of how terrible it really was. I made it out alive and that's what I asked for so there is no need to worry myself and continue to think of that ugly time. Plus, I've been able to forgive my ex-husband for what he did to me and I am SO much stronger than I have ever been in my life. Even stronger than my ex-husband.
I would NEVER wish anybody to experience domestic violence in any way. I was lucky to get out alive but in a sick kind of way I'm thankful for what I went through because I know I will NEVER let that happen to me again and it made me unbelievably strong and a survivor!!!!
There are mornings I open my eyes and see the sunlight through my window. These are usually the weekend mornings because it's still dark when I get up during the week. Chad and his "time" are the first thing on my mind. Some days it still doesn't feel real and I'm in total disarray. On mornings like that, I just lay in my bed absorbing what I can. Staring at the walls just thinking and thinking and thinking. Some mornings take longer than others for me to get out of bed and some days open with a tear drop or two but I know I can't let this stop me from living. Chad wouldn't want this for me so I end up forcing myself up to begin the day. I'm not going to lie, it's hard, it's EXTREMELY hard but I have to do it.