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Happiness vs Closure

Happiness it eludes me, I reach, I stretch my arms out reaching…reaching…reaching…but it is never there right in my hands. Just when I touch it, and I think I have a hold, whoosh, it is gone.
Many would never classify going to the trial of my daughter’s killer as in that ‘category’ happiness, but to me it would bring me closure. This closure might bring me closer to that elusive word ‘happiness’. No matter the outcome, I would know I worked hard to get her justice and the trial she deserves in her life. Yes, in her life, as even though she is deceased…we are talking about the ending of her life, which is the outcome of this trial that has not taken place.

So last night I was looking at my flight to make sure it was on time, and I check my email. There it was, the Victim’s Advocate writing a short note at the 11th hour we need to talk to you…and then the second email right after the first. “Sorry I have to leave for the day, the trial is being continued.” Wow. Yes that is how they let me know that the trial was postponed. Like it was nothing. My mental preparation for 2 months discarded in that one sentence. I started to cry. Who wouldn’t? I traveled to Baton Rouge as you all remember in March to publicize the lack of justice in my daughter’s case. I was on television, I was interviewed by The Advocate and a wonderful editorial was written:( http://theadvocate.com/news/opinion/8737286-123/inside-report-trial-delays-grieve#.UzwwAwjNzvc.email) about the same thing happening to a couple who lost their baby during his stay in daycare. We both share the lack of justice. We both have the same prosecution team. We both are trying really hard to find the closure we need, and this team, well they are not delivering. So now it seems I am losing and the killer and his team are winning. He has this high-profile lawyer, who obviously uses one tried and true tactic. Delay. Delay. Continue. Delay. The judge lets it happen. The prosecution team writes me self serving emails after the fact that they are ‘hurt’ by my insinuation that there is corruption in the Louisiana judicial system. Well, google it. Louisiana is number one in corruption or in a tie with Illinois. Hello??? Are you listening Louisiana? I am not going to stand idly by while my daughter is not given her trial. I am going to write about the injustice, the heartbreak and the sadness I feel. I am exhausted from trying to get a grasp on ‘happiness’, just a little pinky finger grasp, but it keeps eluding me. I can post many photo’s of the beauty I see here in Colombia at my beautiful Villa Migelita, but do I have happiness? No. I will not have it until I get this trial for her, she needs her trial and I need closure.

Closure it is so closely connected to happiness. When the trial goes forward, will Misha have a good defense? I wonder now. I see so many publicized trials, and I watch them. They take on a different meaning when you have a child that has been murdered. I need to say it. Misha was murdered. The defendant did it. He made deliberate moves to cover his tracks. He stopped and changed his tire and took his bumper off. Now that was a hard sentence to write, my daughter’s body did that to his car. Think about that, while reading this. He hit my daughter so hard she flattened his tire. Then he traveled far away to ‘fix’ his car saying ” I hit a deer” but the next day called and said the police would be visiting because he hit a person, my daughter. He knew he hit a person, he had a DUI 9 months before, so he was probably drunk when he killed her. Now, let me muse on the prosecution…why are they letting this case which was solved fairly quickly go on for 4 and 1/2 years. Why are they letting the defense run the show? I see all the other trials that make national news and this is not what happens with them. Why is my daughter so unimportant? I can put it together, can you? Money. The defendant is from the powerful family that owns Drago’s Seafood Restaurant. This link to my newscast shows that EVEN the news reporter has to mention he is from a powerful family ( http://www.wbrz.com/videoplayer/?video_id=18796&categories=231%2C58%2C135%2C95%2C66). Disgusting.

I say one last thing to the team representing my daughter, “Stop acting like you are for her best interests” You are not. You are doing your job and nothing more, nothing less. You are cold, heartless people who get paid to do your job and that is what you do, nothing more, nothing less. Without compassion you are cold, you are heartless, you are the person who wrote me an email 7 hours before I left Colombia for my closure. You are awful. I do not have faith in you anymore. I have no faith in Louisiana. I have faith that I can make this go viral and maybe then you will do your job.

Please write the judge. You have to send a handwritten letter. Christian Cvitanovich vs Mikel Cara Carson. This letter needs to be hand written to the judge. Her name is Trudy White. 300 N Blvd. Baton Rouge, LA 70802. No more letters to the District Attorney because they have many and it obviously made no difference to them. They are robots. They have no compassion, without compassion they need to change professions. Thank you all for your letters. Anything to bring justice for Misha.

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Finding Bruno

I have a new Rat Terrier named Bruno who came into my life as suddenly as Taz left. (you can read about Taz here: https://hummingsfromparadise.wordpress.com/2014/01/06/missing-taz/)Taz was ornery, spoiled, not super lovable except with those closest to him, anti social with the other dogs, loved to go for long hikes in the mountains running freely smiling and happy, dug up tarantulas, used his little front paws like hands; especially at night when he wanted to get under the covers with me, and was a quirky little guy with huge ears that showed all his thoughts by their position. Taz was always shaking, if the wind blew funny he would get scared, if a storm was coming I knew way before the clouds darkened because Taz would alert me. Taz was one of a kind, and maybe that is why I miss him so much, he was an original, a dog so irreplaceable that I thought no other dog could help with the sadness I have felt everyday since he vanished that night in Cali. That is until Bruno came into my life and my heart.

I have never seen another Rat Terrier here in Colombia. Imagine my surprise after all my months of grieving discovering a Facebook post to my page of a Rat Terrier who was so like Taz, I actually thought he might be Taz! This dog had the same ears, the expression Taz always had on his face, the same crazy spots on him, and he was found in the streets of Cali. Could it be him I wondered? Could we have been mistaken by the photo of my Taz taken by the police showing him killed by a car? My heart was racing as I called the girl who had put up the photo. I found out he was male, very nervous, so nervous they barely could catch him, and that he was about the same age as Taz. I arranged to see this dog immediately, thinking I would have a reunion with my beloved pet.

I will never forget seeing Bruno, he was exactly Taz but younger and smaller in person. He was quite nervous and immediately was a bit feisty when held, talking in a strange little voice, showing he was not so sure he was happy with his circumstances. His ears moved all around, one up the other sideways, while his eyes showed fear along with hope for a new life. He was so like Taz I started crying. I could not believe this gift that came from nowhere, Bruno, showing up because he was lucky enough to have had an angel rescue him. A lovely woman who loves animals as much as I do. She told me someone else had called for Bruno but she felt her inner voice tell her to say no, another better home was waiting for Bruno. That home was me and my farm here at Villa Migelita. I also think another person had a hand in this, even though she is not of this world anymore, my Misha.

As I sat crying with the family who had fostered Bruno, I knew he had to come with me. He was meant to be with me, and how it happened is just not a coincidence. Bruno is my gift from my daughter because she knows I have worked tirelessly to get her the trial she deserves for her wrongful death. (you can read about it here: https://hummingsfromparadise.wordpress.com/2014/02/03/misha/) This is not her first gift to me nor will it be her last. I have a dog Orion I know she also brought into my life. Before I moved to Villa Migelita he showed up suddenly too, a neighbor heard I was moving to a farm and gave him to me the night before the move. I needed a big watch dog, and had pondered many nights about it. I only rescue animals, but how would I ever find a dog that could guard without having to purchase one? Alas, I was given Orion who had gone from home to home, and finally had a forever home with me.

So you see, the Universe and my guardian angel Misha always takes care of me. I got publicity for my daughter’s lack of justice and her trial will go forward. I lost my dog and was given Bruno who has acclimated to my farm perfectly and the other dogs accepted him unconditionally. He is a little reminder of my Taz every minute from the moment I held him. He uses his paws like Taz did, he sleeps in the same position as Taz, he uses his ears to show his emotions, he is so like Taz I do double takes sometimes when he walks around, following me like a little shadow. He is my living, breathing, reincarnation of Tazzy, and for that I will be forever grateful. My heart still misses Taz, but my face smiles every single time I look at my new precious boy.

So now I move forward with hope the trial will successfully put my daughter’s killer in prison. I will not lie I have been super stressed about this forthcoming trial. Bruno has put a dent in that anxiety just by being in my world. He has given me a bit of sunshine in my countdown to the trial and having to sit in a courtroom and hear things I do not want to hear. I will think of Bruno while I sit there, I will remember out of bad always comes good. I will allow myself to let go and let the Universe handle the fate of the killer of my daughter. I know the Universe handles everything, because I found Bruno and a bit of my Taz once again.

Taz , farm where wedding 007004

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Pondering, Life and Friends

You go a little crazy when your child dies and that craziness brought me to Colombia. A decision many found controversial, but a decision that has provided healing to me after many years of turmoil. This journey, often messy, often wonderful, and often sad brought me to a point where I know whom and what I personally need to fulfill myself, the main discovery is I am my own best friend. My friendships with others have been involved in the shaping of my life, but ultimately I am the one who I need to count on during good and bad times. My mom would call this character if she was still alive. I call it strength to be me. No matter how many outside influences try to change my character, I am the one responsible for my life. The past is always in the forefront of my musings and brings forth the question of how our life relationships play a part in our life journey?

Contemplating while I lay sleepless some nights, I look back on friendships that played important roles in this formation of my life. The life I envisioned when I raised my children gone to the wayside, with only memories left to remind me it happened. When I was that soccer Mom, going to my daughter’s games to hear her cheer, routing for my son at basketball games, volunteering in the school cafeteria, making sure my family was well cared for, my thoughts when I envisioned the future were always about my children going to college and me encouraging them as they began their own life journey. There is no crystal ball to show us the future, but we have relationships that are part of the composition of all that develops. Did the unfolding of my life come with me in a predestined package when I was born? Did my decisions cause the problems my children encountered in their teen years or was it what we call free will which we all exercise as humans.

I have written of my first marriage and the birth of my daughter which you can read about here: https://hummingsfromparadise.wordpress.com/2013/11/22/being-myself/. I met my best friend for life when I married my first husband, she is still with me today as my confidant, cheering me on as I move forward here in Colombia, happy for me and what I have accomplished. Isn’t this the way we should be with our friends? Supportive, honest, and loving? I know nothing will come between us, as she is the sister I always wanted, the person I go to for advice about anything, and she is non-judgmental, which applies to me also.004 I really do not gossip about others, even those that have hurt me. If I have something to say, I say it to the face of the person and it is between us only. During my many years on this earth I have acquired and lost friends, some dropping from my life without notice as I raised my family, others being set aside because of treacherous behavior, and those who left from their own false judgments based on gossip or jealousy. Then there are those who have entered my life recently who are enriching me with kindness, support, and shared love for all living creatures of this world. People I have met through my website http://www.facebook.com/VillaMigelita. I remember watching TV on a standing television without a remote, and now I have connected with many through technology and I consider them friends in my new life of Colombian living! Lastly, the friends that I had lost contact with, finding me again (through FB) with their own tales of what occurred during the years we had not talked. What does it all mean?

I reflect on much during those nights of insomnia. I have one particular incident that bothers me constantly since my daughter’s funeral. When I was in my twenties before both of my marriages I had a friend. I considered her a best friend for many years. Her son grew up with my daughter as playmates he was almost 4 years older but we always did things together and when I married again, my ex-husband became friends with them both. They were always at our house, went on vacation with us, we called them family. The day Misha spoke of the incidents to me the sun was shining, my mood happy, my son in the car with us as we parked to go inside a store. “Mom he touched me where he shouldn’t have and had me touch him where I should not.” The air left the car, the words were inside my head but I could not believe them. The boy who grew up with both my children molested my daughter who had just turned 10, he was almost 14. He took her innocence. He did it while I was in the house with my 3-year-old son right there when he did it. These details came out during her counseling. The friendship ended. You would think that would be the end of this story but it is not. My ex-husband brought them back into his life when my daughter was killed. He brought that boy now a man to sit beside him in the front pew of the church next to my son. He placed the ex-friend in the pew behind where all my family was. My ex-husband had no one from his HUGE family attend except his sister. I stew on this question often; “Why did I not make a scene and have them removed?” I was in so much shock from her death is my only explanation, because I always stand up for what is right. It is something that really bothers me, so I am writing it down to get it off my chest. I wish I had approached the Priest and told him what this kid had done and I know he would have changed the situation. I did not and now I live with this inside me and will forever. I will never understand why my ex-husband did this. I know his motivation was to hurt me, but this was his daughter he disrespected at her funeral by bringing the young man who took her self-esteem during a time in her life when she should have been discovering who she was. He brought these people around my son again at a vulnerable stage in his life. It broke my heart, and during the whole funeral I was aware of their hateful presence. This was an act of treachery I meditate about often, and I never can find an answer to it. Sometimes there are not answers in our life journey, maybe we find out later when we are no longer living on this earth.

Many people were so wonderful during the week of my daughter’s death, I can not emphasize that enough. Then the funeral was over and they were gone. Poof, abracadabra, gone. Then me wandering the house with so many memories of my children, not just Misha, but my son, who was not with me much anymore. I remember that time vividly. It was awful. I still was going through the divorce from hell, and now had the huge stone of grief carried upon my back, carried with such sadness because my daughter left many angry about her death and I was the person they all took it out on. Now all those people (well most of them) are my friends because they realize I had nothing to do with the actions of my daughter in the year preceding her death. If anyone was asked they would say “she is not consumed with her daughter, but her death has changed her.” I actually went to a retirement luncheon the year after she died, full of much anticipation to see people I had not seen in a long while who knew what had happened. I was shocked by the reception of people I knew for years. I was barely spoken to, I was ignored by friends of many years, it was cruel. I then started putting things together and I realized that the people who supported me during Misha’s funeral and death really did not like me. It was clear. It was awful. I will never go back to a retirement luncheon again because I have enough of my own grief and sadness to last me a lifetime and I do not need other’s to place their preconceived perceptions on me also. I had a friend for years that I always notified of my arrival back in the States, who never really responded. Out of some sense of guilt I kept contacting her because she was wonderful during the divorce and the death of my daughter. Then she just changed. The last contact with her was me asking if she wanted to meet myself and another of her friends for lunch when I arrived? Her response? One word; “maybe” that was it she is out of my life.

So that is enough of the negativity, let’s talk about the good things. A very dear friend who was my maid of honor in the wedding of the father of my daughter recently contacted me through Facebook. We have reconnected and I see her and her husband as part of my life forever. They are making plans to visit Villa Migelita. Her husband still calls me “Missy” my nickname from childhood. Another friend also has reconnected, she a flight attendant with so much of the same stories of her horrific divorce. Then there are the flight attendants who admire what I have done, not knowing me well but asking to be my friend on Facebook, and the flight attendant friends who never have left my side during this journey of life I am on, never judging always supportive. They know who they are. I love them. Me, well, I am real excited about the Bed and Breakfast I will soon open, just like a new chapter in a book. It is my life; good or bad. I am struggling every day to get past Misha’s death, but I am winning.003

For those who follow my blogs, the trial for the killer of my daughter will take place starting June 2nd. My trip and subsequent publicity made a difference.