Posted in Alternative Lifestyle, Awakening, child death, Colombia, Entreprenuer, expat life, family, love, Signs of the Universe, Spiritual Presence, strength, Uncategorized, Waiting

The Surprises in Life

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/astonish/

This blog is a follow-up to my blog about finding love when I least expected it, I was astonished by all the outpouring of support that was sent my way when I wrote about  the surprise of meeting someone special. So take a moment and read this blog first before you continue on.

Life is like a river, it flows one way and then it sometimes changes directions. I compare my life to a river often. I believe I have lived two lives in this lifetime. One was as a mother to my children, and the next life started when I decided to move to Colombia after Misha was murdered. It was not an easy decision and I carry a lot of guilt for leaving, but I have found that you cannot control destiny. Everyone has free will, even our children.  I have not stopped thinking about my past life, I really wouldn’t want those memories to be gone. Cherished memories. So I accept I have had two separate lives. Both have had wonderful times, and terrible times. We do have many chances in life, even if those chances cause pain to us in other ways. My choice to move has been wonderful for healing, but whenever I go to the United States the past rears its head. Always so dramatically. I left that, I don’t want the drama, I don’t want the pressure of trying to be the best at whatever it is anyone is trying to be the best at, I don’t want that life anymore. So I need to write about how strange I felt this last time I visited the United States after two years.

The night I met Avi was special because of things I have found out since this fateful encounter. First of all, and I mention it in the blog you need to read first, I asked him to dance. I say this because apparently it is still not a common occurrence for a woman to ask a man to dance. I have been told this by Avi and by my friends also. This shows you I live differently in the jungle of Colombia. We dance here when we have parties at our homes. I ask anyone to dance and this includes my women friends. We just dance. It is that simple. So, what do I mean by this? Avi found it delightful that I approached him and said do you want to dance? I was so amazed by that, which will show that I have become more innocent since living in Colombia. I don’t think nor know about any of the things that could be socially inept. I just live. I have deliberately isolated myself, and with that comes social incompetence. But I do have a lovely and simple existence. I am successful to a degree with my hotel Villa Migelita Ecolodge, and I am very happy to be alone with just me. I might be writing my book, or I might be photographing the nature I am so accustomed to, or I might be studying the Spanish I am still struggling with. I think many people would not like my uncomplicated life, but for me it is perfect. I like being alone. I like my own company, and I love nature and my animals. A perfect combination for me.

Let me say a bit about Avi , he is a person of great integrity. He knows what he wants in a woman and has been looking for someone for a while. I can’t say the same about me. I am flawed, and imperfect to a great degree. I have not been looking for anyone. I changed when my daughter was murdered. I just don’t care what anyone thinks, says or wants from me. I am truly and completely direct with everyone. So this probably makes me a bit unusual. Avi says it is a great thing, I am not so sure. I will say this relationship has gotten better with distance and the wonderful world of being able to talk and see each other through social media. I am way too uninhibited in my thoughts, but to someone like Avi this is a good thing. He finds it refreshing, unusual and to use a word my mother always called me : unique. I am that for sure.

That night Avi and I met we danced and I found out the next day the earring I wore of Misha’s that I had in my second ear-piercing was gone. I was devastated. I had already lost one earring from when she had passed that I took from her body before she was cremated. This earring her best friend gave me without knowing I had been wearing another earring and had lost it. I remember her saying I only have one when she handed it to me. When I woke up and I realized the earring was gone and there would not be another earring to replace it, I was sad. Here is a video of my television interview in Baton Rouge when I was trying to get a trial for my deceased daughter. You can clearly see the earring that I lost the night I met Avi, Gabrielle had given it to me the night before my interview. That morning when I left the cruise ship I felt I left a part of Misha behind at sea.

Now as time has passed and Avi is coming to see me this week, I am beginning to think there was a reason for the loss of the earring. Maybe it is time for me to move on with my life. Maybe I have a future, because I haven’t really looked at my life as having one. I have just lived one day, one step, one moment at a time. The loss of this second earring; maybe it is a message to me from Misha to allow myself to love again, to let go of her, to begin fresh.

Avi has his work cut out with me. I am surely different which he discovered the first night we met. I am also an innocent in this world now. I didn’t turn hard from the lack of justice, I turned inward. I often feel that I can never trust anything again. This man killed my daughter, yet the judge gave him the correct sentence and then she suspended it. She even acknowledged the thousands of letters she received to give him jail time. She didn’t. I felt so betrayed. I withdrew into myself even more.

I had not had a real date with a man in a long time, so when I had lunch with Avi I was nervous and socially awkward. I then had dinner with him later that evening after I missed my flight back to Colombia and I felt like an alien from outer space. I looked around and every person had their phones out and no one was interacting with each other. I don’t do that here in Colombia. I use it for communication, and some of my social media work sites. I remember looking around at a lot of noise and lights, and feeling very uncomfortable. I can’t imagine that I even kept up a normal conversation with Avi. But now since I have returned  to Colombia we have such profound discussions, and I am slowly learning to trust him.

I have made it clear to Avi I am difficult to understand, I sometimes appear cold, unreachable. That I like being alone. I don’t need to have anyone entertain me, nor do I need to be out and in crowds. I am never unkind purposely, but I am distant sometimes. It is who I am now. He accepts this about me, in fact he loves this about me. My directness.

He will be here for Mother’s Day, a day I really find so distressing. He says we shall go out and celebrate you as a mother, you are a mother and deserve to be admired as one. I hope I can enjoy the day with him. He is certainly kind and thoughtful, and I believe he truly loves me, even with my baggage.

Stay tuned, the future is in front of me, but as usual I live my life one day at a time. Some days are not so great, while others are beautiful and full of hope.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Posted in Colombian life, hummingbirds, nature

An Imperfect World

My rescue hummingbird has passed. It happened suddenly and without warning. Just a couple of days ago he was escaping through the slats of his little cage. He was so active. I had to put a mesh net around his cage so he couldn’t breakout and be killed by a predator. I am not sure why he died, but I knew he wasn’t well anymore. It happened so fast and I wasn’t prepared for it.

I have a cage coming from the USA and some additional food supply that hummingbird rehabilitation experts use. The wonderful thing that has resulted from his care is I will have a nice cage and products  anytime I rescue any  bird at Villa Migelita from this day forward. All of these products sent from loving friends in the United States  and will be in remembrance of Grigio. When I put another bird in this new cage I will have his spirit guiding me. I know this with my heart and soul.

To say I am sad today is an understatement. I awoke to a table without his cage that I have looked at for over a month. The joy of removing the towels I put on his enclosure every night to find him moving and drinking his nectar of smashed insects and sugar in the morning is a wonderful and loving experience in my lifetime. The hope I felt that maybe, just maybe he would be my miracle.

I am sad, frustrated and of course I am blaming myself. If only I had added even more insects to his water. If only I had more resources available to me here in Colombia . If only, if only. I became very attached.

He was fighting to live to the end. His last breaths were in the palm of my hand. He was still charging his wings, which gave me unrealistic hope. I felt he could pull through this with my loving care. I watched as one eye closed but the other eye was wide open and staring at me. That eye kept contact with me until it closed with his final breath inside my palm. So tiny, so precious, so magical. I will never be able to describe adequately the joy he brought to me by being able to care for him.

Posted in child death

Truthful Words About the Death of My Daughter

Yesterday was just lousy. By that I  mean really damn horrible. I actually cried for most of the afternoon, until I fell asleep, it was that kind of lousy day. It was a day I want to erase from my memory. But just maybe this post will show others about proper etiquette when dealing with the death of a child.

I had someone tag me on Facebook about finding a dog almost dead on the side of the road and trying to save it. She wrote that all she could think of was me and what happened with my daughter who was left dead on the side of a highway after she was murdered by a hit and run driver. I know she meant well. I actually answered that I was glad the dog had someone to hold it while it died..because I was. In actuality, I should have said ” please take me out of this post as I can’t handle the image you just sent to me that I pictured as my daughter instead of the poor dog”. She wrote of blood coming out of the dog’s mouth, and of it taking its last breath. All I could think of was my daughter and what she must have looked like laying there on the side of the road when she was hit. Was she still alive? Did she suffer? The questions that I have worked 6 years to overcome, and in one moment this ignorant post brought them back. It was horrible to envision, especially at 6 am in the morning when I first awoke.

It doesn’t matter if it was just last week or 6 years later, parents of a deceased child are not any better than they were when they first heard the news that their child is dead, they have just learned to live with their grief. Some such as me have made positive changes in their lives, while others struggle daily to just get up in the morning and go on with life. We parents of a deceased child know about letting go of certainty, and a willingness to embrace life as it is. That is what happens when you finally are starting to adjust to the death of your child. The biggest obstacle to overcome is your mind, and it is important when you respond to others you use control as your response is your power.

So, let us explore my reaction to this awful but totally well-meaning post. I handled everything wrong. I should have written a nice message to her to take it down, as it was very upsetting to me. But, I didn’t. I answered the post honestly about how hard it is for me to still live with the murderer of my daughter free on probation, but I was happy she was able to be there to comfort the dog. A few more comments and it was over. I know she did not know how severely she had affected me. People are oblivious about the way grief can paralyze a person. I went on with my day but was very sad. My companion kept asking me “what is wrong Michele?” I couldn’t really put it into words as I knew I should have shut down the post immediately…then I kept getting notifications from others commenting and I went to stop the notifications and the post was gone. I was relieved and wrote my friend that I knew she meant well and I felt happy that she had thought of Misha. I didn’t say anything unkind, nor confrontational because I am not that way. But then, I am tagged again with the same post. She took it down and put it back up. That made me angry. I try to embrace a way of living that is not argumentative but it vexed me when it went up again. I had felt incredible pain answering the first post and now I had to answer again? Once more I will accept the blame as I should have ignored this second post. This pressure of social media is truly intense at times, especially when my name is mentioned and I am the reason for the post. So I commented that I had said something earlier and that I was very pleased with my life in Colombia with hummingbirds, butterflies and nature. That I felt her with me and I had gone on to create Villa Migelita in her name  and put my website along with my answer.

This is when it got ugly. Not in a horrible way, but let’s be honest, it was not nice, because I show that I have gone on to create a life my daughter would be proud of…which I also said…and I got a response from someone who was just being mean. Seriously, shouldn’t this person have written, “good for you to have created this dream in your daughter’s memory?” Instead I’m reprimanded for putting my website on the post!  If it was inappropriate to put my website there ‘oh well’ ! The post was about my daughter who was left dead like the dog at the side of the road and I was showing people I have moved forward! When it comes to social drama, letting go of other people’s rude remarks is the best step forward.  Most haters don’t really hate you; they just hate where they are in life, and you’re a reflection of what they wish to become.

My heart is bruised from yesterday, and is still bruised today. I have a good life now. I have maids, they see me crying. They become upset. They come to me to ask what is wrong and I tell them the truth; that I was reminded of a picture I saw in the newspaper the very morning after I found out about Misha’s death because of someone who is my friend. She was lying on the side of the road covered by a black bag, but I knew it was my daughter. I don’t want to picture her that way. I want to see her like the cover photo on this blog. I know I will continue to heal until I die. Life is always changing, when something ends or leaves something new happens. I know my sad crying jag will soon be gone, but I won’t get over it quickly. It is just not possible when it is my child I am talking about, and she is dead.

 

 

Posted in Uncategorized

The Tsunami of 2004: One Woman’s Story

http://wp.me/p23sd-11FL

I am sharing with all of you a post from a dear friend who was in the Tsunami of 2004. Below are her words.  I have not edited them at all because this is from her heart and English is not her first language. Read this and remember how precious life is. I am also including photos she has from that time. The cover photo breaks my heart…but this is what happened and she is very blessed to be alive. As all of you know my daughter was murdered. The bravery and courage in this story will give you chills.  This is why we must live each day as if it is our last. We must give out love to others, not hate. Not one person on this planet is different from another. We all love and care for our families the same way whether we are rich or poor, the color of our skin is not important. We all bleed the same color.  Be kind, be thankful and be aware that you might not live to see another day when you least expect it. This is one woman’s story. Her son is an up and coming artist and this song is appropriate for the rest of this blog https://youtu.be/LtURTzkiHP4 May God Bless all of us. We can never know what the next day will bring.

 

My Story
I’m a travel agent and I’ve never been a great believer… I adored luxury… a lovely house, a great car, parties, travelling first class… I wore a mask and felt completely empty!
Everything started on 26th December 2004, when my son, partner and I were in the middle of the sea in a small boat in Sri Lanka when the tsunami was about to swallow us whole…
We were unable to reach shore due to all the hundreds of thousands of vortices that were opening up around us and getting bigger and bigger by the minute. They were swallowing up everything in their path including small fishing boats and, as I stood there wide-eyed and watching everything fall apart around me, I saw a huge oil tanker being taken down within minutes. I was devastated, my whole body shook, and I felt the heat of my urine running down my thighs. I felt death and gloom approaching. Fear took a hold of me and froze me to the spot. I felt unable to move or speak.
On that little boat where hope no longer existed, with the worse pain a mother can ever suffer, I asked my son Lorenzo to throw himself overboard and try to swim ashore – he was only 10 at the time but he refused and said “No mum. I’m not going to leave you. You can’t swim very well and if we have to die I’d rather be with you.”
I didn’t know of any way out… I was dead… and I could feel the chilly hands of death inching forever closer, way too close. I wanted to save my son. I would have given my life for him but he stubbornly refused to throw himself overboard. Thus we waited to be swallowed up by the immense and dark sea, as dark as night. My partner who was with me at the time was in the same state of fear as me.
We stayed on that boat all day – alone – with no food, water or fuel or… very little. That night, totally worn out and with the little fuel we had, we decided to try and attempt to find a way back to shore.
The sea was full of all sorts of debris: fridges, mattresses, lorries.
A sea of lifeless children floated over the top of the water. We finally touched land but it wasn’t over yet. More waves were coming and we decided to escape to the mountains. Our only route of escape at the time. Escaping without shoes, or having drunk anything all day.
I stole shoes for my family from the corpses we found on route… may God forgive me.
But we still couldn’t walk… the ground was covered…. corpses, glass everywhere…
Human parts were scattered everywhere and lots and lots of small dead bodies. I swear to you, that day I witnessed hell.
Having reached the bottom of the mountain, we found hundreds of people waiting at its base. The mountain was full of thorns, impossible to climb… but we had to do it. The wave was behind us and was about to reach us so we had no choice. Everyone was so scared that they were jostling each other… nightmarish screams from heartbroken mothers who were carrying their children’s lifeless bodies begging for a miracle… it was HELL.
I needed to do something!
My job has led me to be a natural born organiser, and I therefore started shouting at the top of my lungs and organised all the children in a row. Then older women and men and finally women then men. I had divided my own family apart! My son Lorenzo was up front with the other kids, then me and finally my husband last of all.
I wanted to die… I kept asking myself how could I be the one to make all the decisions dear Lord? That was the first time I spoke to Jesus.
Fortunately, at the top of the mountain was a fisherman who launched his nets down so that we could climb. Having reached the top I asked my husband to bring up with him some wet rags… they were needed to wrap up bloody feet torn, cut by all the debris and glass strewn on the ground. Once I got to the top I started bandaging everyone’s feet.
The night was freezing, cold.
Women still held their dead children in their arms
And their screams tore the dark night apart
And the cold, hunger and thirst were making us ill
Hundreds of thousands of people were trying to sleep on humid and cold ground.
A horrific scene.
The fisherman that had thrown us the net had a small wooden cabin and a drinking well.
So I ask the fisherman to boil us some water which I shared with each and everyone present.
Then I noticed that the fisherman had some wooden boards leaning against the cabin and I put all the men to work.
I ask them all to lay the boards down on the ground.
We spend the night sleeping next to each other trying to keep our bodies warm.
It was freezing cold. I was tired and exhausted.
We placed Lorenzo between the two of us to keep him warm.
He asks us to give thanks to Jesus for saving us and to our disbelief we begin to pray the Our Father .
But something happens just as soon as we finished the prayer.

Leaning against the fisherman’s cabin, I see an old man sitting all on his own.
A gaunt face, worn by misery and poverty. He had no teeth and wore and old jacket, dirty and torn.
He beckons me over. I wasn’t sure I understood but yes, he was definitely asking me to go over.
I wasn’t sure what he wanted, but he just kept staring at me and asking me to go over.
I get up to walk towards him and in order to reach him I had to climb over those who were trying to sleep….
I reach him and he shows me that I need to kneel.
I kneel down and
With his rough aged hands, he reaches into his jacket pocket
And offers me a sweet pointing that I should give it to my son!
My heart fills with immense happiness, joy and wondrous peace despite all the hell surrounding me.
I finally understood! The man was Jesus.
The next day we started walking towards Colombo – 200 kilometres away approx.
We walked and walked. Every now and then someone would stop to give us a lift: on donkeys… horses… lorries full of people, then we went back to Italy a few days later.
Upon my return my personal drama starts
I went back to work to my travel agency
When clients walked in asking for 5 star accommodation and Business Class travel, I felt sick and out of place. This was not my place… and I kept asking myself what am I doing here???
I know… I have seen!
A period of darkness began for me
I didn’t believe…
My parents would tell me to go to a psychologist
But I never went

Then one day Daniela, my sister, who was a believer said to me “Why don’t you go to the Divino Amore” a sanctuary here in Rome.
I had never been to church before then bar at Christmas and Easter time… I decided to go. I desperately felt the need to find that peace, love and happiness I had felt approaching the old man when in hell.
I go to take confession.
And burst into tears right there and then whilst confessing in front of the cross.
And at the top of my voice I scream at the priest and ask him “Why? Why? Why did God save me and my family? Why didn’t he take me… he could have saved all those children!!! Why???”
There was silence.
Then the priest answered
“My dear. God has a plan for you and maybe one day you will have to tell lots of people…”
After that meeting I felt deep down in my heart that it really was Him who had created

me and who had shed tears for me, because no one could have talked to me so deep down in my heart.
After a few days of praying, I felt a great weight lifting from me and I started to feel the presence of God! I felt the greatest and most unimaginable peace.

Later in 2011 my trip to Medjugorje and that’s where my faith is strengthened again and again …
And there is so much more… but we would need many more days to go over it all.

This is a true story of bravery that can only come from the soul. This is one woman’s story. I am not promoting anything about religion, just sharing her words…it is up to everyone to decide what it is they believe in. As for me I believe in the Universe. That is my religion. We are all one with this Universe.

 

Posted in Uncategorized

Choices, Chances, Changes. I Did It. You Can Too.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Take a Chance on Me.”

The 3 C’s of life: choices, chances and changes. You must make a choice to take a chance or your life will never change. Unknown~

xploring 011
This is me on a hike in La Buitrera, Colombia on my 57th birthday. The mountains were my solace when I first arrived in Colombia. The views were my happiness. I felt a peace I had not known in a long time.

The first time I read this quote I remember thinking that I was a living example of these words. I had made a choice, to take a chance and move to a new country, and change what was wrong with my life situation. It was a very sudden choice that I didn’t really contemplate like you would think I should, and it has worked out well for me. I really didn’t think a lot about what it would entail. I am sure most people think I was crazy to move to a foreign country without knowing the language, nor the culture, but I did it. I am loving life here in Colombia 4 1/2 years later. It is a life many strive to achieve but never actually do what they need to do to get there. I think desperation drove me to a place that made taking chances not so alarming as they normally would be. I was sad, hurt, and misunderstood by many people.  Gossip and innuendo followed me and there came a point that I just wanted to escape the hell I was living in. So I picked up and moved after I visited beautiful Colombia.

It has been a journey. I have had incredibly wonderful moments, frustrating moments, and learning curves. I am a firm believer in living in the now. I am still struggling with Spanish. It is not so easy to learn a new language. I can comprehend most conversations now, I can watch a movie in Spanish and understand, but I still struggle daily with my verbal communication. Some days I can talk away like it is my second language, other days I struggle. I have always been a confident person, but speaking Spanish has made me timid. I realize it is a real feat to speak more than one language and I appreciate all who do. I also have learned to live simply. I am a minimalist. I do not have anything in my life I do not need. What a nice change that has become for me. I no longer shop unless I need something. My Villa is not cluttered. I no longer want a lot of clothes, jewelry, nor items to decorate that have no purpose. I just want simplicity in my life. I look to nature and my animals to find the love I used to seek while collecting a closet full of clothes, a jewelry box full of jewels, and a house full of the latest trends.  Nothing is trendy about my house. It is classic. I think of myself as classic too. I seek no-ones approval.

So now I continue on this incredible journey that happened so quickly with the opening of my Bed and Breakfast. It is a new exploration in entrepreneurship for me. I was always the employee and I am now the owner. I enjoy this odyssey I am on. I believe it will work out. However, I know life is one day at a time, there is never a guarantee. I struggle with that. I WANT a guarantee, but after I lost my daughter to tragedy I realize that this is just not possible. So I will keep on writing about my journey and hopefully when the reality of old age overtakes me I will have established a legacy that will show my commitment to an exploration of new beginnings.

Posted in Uncategorized

The Real Side of Grief

I have thought a lot about my daughter lately. It will be 5 years in January since she died. I think about how time just goes by; and I think about what she would be doing if she was still here on this Earth. I think about the sentencing of the killer next week. I think about how hard I have worked to bring justice for the death of my daughter. I think about the corruption in Louisiana and if all the letters sent will actually help. I worry that some back door deal has taken place between the prosecution and the defense. I worry about the prosecutor and victims advocate who have never really been on board with me ever since they realized how hard I was working to get a trial for my daughter who is the victim. I think about how messed up the laws are in the USA that the defendant has more rights than the victim. If a petition had not been sent to the senator of Louisiana I still would be fighting to get a trial. That petition (in my opinion) most likely influenced the monster who killed my daughter and left her on the side of the road,46319_10201682425288406_520618800_n made him realize I was never going to let him live his life without facing punishment for killing another person. He pled ‘no contest’ to felony hit and run with serious injury or death. He has still not shown remorse nor acknowledged his guilt in my daughter’s death. I think of the toll this fight has taken on my health. I have had so many health problems since the murder. Nothing life threatening; just chronic problems that interrupt my life. I really am not a complainer and have lived with these problems and continued my life and my pursuit of justice no matter what. I have done what was necessary to bring this subhuman to a place where he is now to be sentenced. Still I worry; that worry caused me to get shingles. Shingles is keeping me away from the sentencing. I have decided that I can not travel 15 hours by airplane to make my statement to the court. Anyone who has had shingles knows the pain and danger that they bring. After much contemplation, along with seeing doctor’s about their thoughts, and many stories from kind people who follow my page Villa Migelita on Facebook I came to the only real decision there was to make. I can not go. Some might not agree, and I understand that, but it would put me in danger for more bad consequences to my health, and to others around me.

Now that I made my decision, I am a bit more at peace. I am continuing to work on getting this man sentenced to the maximum penalty through the internet, which has done well for me thus far. I wonder though has the judge made up her mind already? Has he bought his freedom? It is really strange how the victims advocate is responding to my simple requests. Actually, she has only responded a couple of times and that is to do what she always does; discourage me from what I am doing. When I sent her the sentence guidelines for what the murderer should get, she wrote me back that is not a guarantee. When I sent her the statute about how the DA can put in a motion for my video statement she wrote back she would pass it along but could not guarantee this. When I told her I wrote the judge that I could not attend due to my health problems, she wrote back I should not have written the judge. Imagine that! The person who is to be advocating for me is actually discouraging me! She actually is saying I should not exercise my right to free speech, she is discouraging me from advocating for my daughter! This is what I have been up against for almost five years now. It really does make me worry, and this is why I have shingles. I believe all my efforts might be for nothing because I think they have some sort of deal that has been in place since he pled ‘no contest’ and nothing I do will change that. So I am writing it down. I think all who read my blog and follow my page need to know what I suspect. I also want to include my Impact statement which will be to be read in court. I hope it is. Oh, and she also said to me perhaps the video will be given to the judge to view outside of the courtroom and not at sentencing. Why not at the sentencing? It is all so fishy, it is all so wrong. What is the big deal of showing a short video so that the murderer can hear my voice? The voice of her mother?

Here is my written Victim Impact statement, I tried to keep it brief so the court could not say it was too long:
“I received a call from my soon to be ex-husband around 11:30 PM the night of her murder. My daughter Mikel Cara Carson stopped to help a person she saw hit by a car. Then the defendant Christian Cvitanvich hit that car, and my daughter’s body was thrown and allegedly killed instantly. How, though, will we ever know if she actually died immediately? If the defendant had stopped and tried to help, if he had called 911 immediately, if he had done the right thing, we would have answers to these questions. When asked how I am affected, these questions come repeatedly to my mind. Did she suffer as she lay on the side of the road until the sun came up and someone called in her body? It is a torment I wish on no one. I struggle every single day with questions about that night. I struggle with the fact it took 12 hours to discover who she was and that she lay in a morgue unidentified while her baby daughter was calling for her at home. I struggle with the fact that my son has never been the same since her death and has left his once promising life of a good education to now barely getting a GED. I struggle with the anger that surrounded me after her death: the anger of my son, the anger of my ex-husband and all my daughter’s friends, the anger of the father of her daughter. I struggle with what would have been a promising life for her, taken from her in a moment. A moment when she chose to help someone. Think about that. My daughter Mikel was helping someone. She was killed while doing a good deed. Now I have moved to get away from all the horrible consequences that have resulted from that night when she was left abandoned and alone on the side of Highway I-10. As the reality of her death unfolded, I saw people I had known for many years change. They became angry, they did things they would not normally do, they took their anger out in ways that were not healthy and were destructive. My son to this day is not living the life I had hoped for him to live, nor has he agreed to counseling. My ex-husband got re-married and is now divorcing again. The father of my granddaughter is in jail, leaving my granddaughter without either parent. Me, I am rebuilding my life and living for her and what she would have experienced if she had not been taken so suddenly on that fateful night. There is not a moment I do not think of her since she was murdered. Everything I do, I do with the intent of giving my granddaughter Amaya a better life as she grows up. I worry for my granddaughter: I worry that I am the only one who tells her about her Mommy and how she grew up. I worry that Amaya will become angry as she grows older because she is without either parent now, and she has no real memories of her mother except those I give her through photos and memories. I have had counseling for her death, but still my health has suffered. I have had to wear a retainer for a year to re-adjust my jaw after grinding my teeth so badly at night while I slept. I have never had a good nights sleep since learning of her murder. I have had continuous health problems: recurring urinary tract infections, vertigo brought on by a virus that attacked my inner ear, and now that same virus attacking my body by way of shingles which has made it impossible for me to travel to this sentencing, a virus known to be only brought on by extreme stress. I believe that this stress of trying to bring justice for my daughter and her death has caused these problems. I am devastated that I can not be there in person to say this while looking at Christian Cvitanvich, who has never shown remorse for taking my daughter from so many that loved her. I want him to know her daughter will turn 7 in January and he left her motherless. Her brother will be 20, the age of Mikel when she died, and is suffering inside so much that he can not live a normal life, nor has he moved on like others would his age. Cvitanvich has left many saddened friends and relatives who still can make no sense of the needless death of a young mother who was only 20 but going to school to better herself, while also working, for her beloved daughter Amaya. I ask the court to give the maximum sentence under the guidelines described for this crime. He needs to have punishment for the crime of killing an innocent young mother who had stopped to help another human being. Why did he not do the same when he hit Mikel? Ask yourself that? He was most likely drunk. The selfishness about his future took priority over helping another human being. I wish my daughter had been selfish that night and not stopped, as she would still be alive. I wish that with all my heart. I will never be free of the terrible anxiety I get when I think “if only” she kept driving home to her precious daughter.”

The above statement is the real side of grief. Grief is not something that can get better with time, grief is with a person always. It stays, it lingers, it does not change. The only thing that changes is the person who experiences the grief. They have to make choices. They need to decide if they will grow stronger using the sadness inside of them to help others in the same situation, or if they will keep it inside and hide the sadness. They need to decide if they will fight to live a normal life, or grow depressed and withdraw from life. They need to work every single day to stay healthy and to have some sort of happiness, a happiness that is stripped from them by death. I have chosen to move forward. I am not always successful, but I am trying. This is the real side of grief.

There is still time for those who have not done so to fax a letter to the Honorable Judge Trudy White. Please be respectful and ask for the sentence to be the maximum under the guidelines. Every letter makes a difference and she has to consider them. This is the fax number: 225 389 4737.

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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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