It's not dwelling.... It's called inspiration

Many times I've was told I was dwelling on my brother's homicide, and that's why I couldn't move forward. Weeks, months and even up to the year of his homicide, I would post pictures and share stories about him on my Facebook wall. Many people were concerned, and some even said things, such as... Move on, get over it, he's in a better place, it was his time to go, and even everything happens for a reason. I believe in that saying.... Everything happens for a reason, but not in a homicide! There is no reason or rhyme of killing another human being.... No reason what so ever! There had been so many bullets shot at my brother that morning, that even the Judge stated, that he's surprised that no on else was shot! Kind of makes you think, what could make a human.... Or should I say animal, so angry to have shot all those bullets.... To have emptied a gun magazine on another human being! I have lost friends and some family members even shy away from me. I have even had people tell me they worry about my being and are afraid for me. Do I miss him? Of course! Do I cry for him? Of course! Do I wish he were still here? Absolutely! Any sister, father, family member, or friend would! He was unique! He was absolutely gorgeous! He had a smile that would light up any room, a laugh so distinct and contagious, a voice that grabbed your attention! When Timothy B. Reber was present..... Everyone knew it!!! He was the life of the party and everyone knew who he was, even if they'd never met him.... They know who he was. Then there are people who have said I've been an impact and a inspiration to many. I hold on to him and his memory and keep him alive, through my pictures, stories, and writing. I have got many complements on what an inspiration I have been. There have been close true friends, friends I have met through my journey of grief, organizations for homicide victims, local newspaper companies, and even State Representatives! I do not believe my brother passing due to homicide was for a reason, but I do believe he inspired me. He passed giving me this gift and told me not ignore it. I am to reach out and make an impact on those who lost their lives like he did. To inspire those loved ones left behind, and show those who lost loved ones to such tragedy, like homicide. That we can be their voice, make good from evil, and carry on with our lives, while keeping them alive. Do I think I'm dwelling? No! Do I think I'm unstable? No! Do I think others should worry about me because I am moving on like this? No! Did I think I was able to get through this a few months back? Absolutely Not! I am seeking help and have been since the death of him, and I've been told I'm doing great! This is me and I'm just telling my story, and the story of a wonderful brother, that gave me thirty one great years and memories! And now I have been asked to write an article for grieving loved ones.

Don't take away the pictures

This blog is  somewhat about my mother and of course my brother. In January of 2010, on the seventh day, my mother's boyfriend was hit by a train in Delaware. My mother who suffered from many illnesses  was in and out of hospital's before his death, she took his death hard. She had been admitted to the hospital shortly after is passing for one of her illnesses. She was then later moved into a rehab/nursing home, to get rehabilitated after her long stay in the hospital. We did visit her often, but that didn't make up for the void of her boyfriend, she missed dearly. She had asked someone to bring her in the many pictures she had of her boyfriend. She not only had many illnesses, but she also suffered from depression, due to  tragic loss of her boyfriend and other events in her life. It seemed to my husband and I that she was not progressing rehabilitation or depression wise. My husband and I believed it was having all those pictures of her boyfriend all over making her worse... depression wise, and that was pulling her back from moving forward into her rehabilitation. I insisted that they be removed. After a short time without the pictures, she had her sister bring them back into the rehabilitation center. I never  understood my mother's thinking at times, and thought she was just being stubborn. After the loss of my only brother, I began to realize my mother's thinking and she was not stubborn, but needed those pictures to feel alive. I lost my brother tragically, just as my mother lost her boyfriend tragically. I felt as if I had to have at least a picture or two of my brother in each room in the house, that I spent much time in.... I even had to hang a small picture of him on the refrigerator. Like my mother I went into a deep depression and didn't eat or get out of bed for weeks. There had been some family members worried that I was so depressed because I had so many pictures of my brother everywhere. They felt the same way I did with my mother, when her boyfriend passed, and insisted I take them down. I even had one family member tell me my house was depressing, and another tell me they were going to come to my house, and pack up all the pictures of him. Everyday or every other day I'd call my aunts crying because I felt as though I needed his pictures up to feel as if he was still here with me. They tried to console me and explain to me that I should not worry about what other's think, and that everyone grieves differently. They'd say to me, Brooke, that was your brother, he was murdered and only thirty one years old, you have ever right to feel what you do, and having those pictures up are not hurting anyone. It's been a year and nine days, and those pictures are still where I had them since his death. My mother passed away six months prior to my brother's murder, and I am thankful to the Lord for taking her before his passing. She suffered so much with her illnesses and the tragic loss of her boyfriend, she would have never been able to handle the murder of her only son! His loss is difficult for me and my ten year old daughter, each and everyday, and at times it kills me, and it would have been much worse for my mother.

Homicide victims love hearing us tell stories about them, and watch us put up pictures of them around the house. Those pictures are the galleries of their life, the pictures that captured images of their existence. The ones that told the story of all ever dreamt of having or being.

The beginning

It began in October of 2010, I got a phone call saying my mom had been taken to the hospital because they thought she might of had a stroke, they kept her for a few days and then left her come home. On Nov. 6th, her boyfriend took her to the hospital, were she was admitted to the hospital once again because she spiked a fever of a 106, they kept her in isolation for a few days and did tests, they found what they said was a rare pneumonia that only 1% of the population gets, called BOOP. She then went to a rehab because of the tests, sickness and hospital stay, she lost her strength, she spent Thanksgiving in the rehab… Which she did not like at all! She was home by Christmas, by the end of Christmas she was back in the hospital and was there until after the New Year. On January 17th she got news that her boyfriend was hit by a train and killed! From there her health really took a turn for the worst and she was in and out of hospitals and rehabs. She came out of a rehab after the 4th of July and stayed with her brother and his wife for a short time before she was back in the hospital to have her leg amputated because she was diabetic and had gangrene. She did very well with the leg amputation and went to a rehab once again. On Aug. 6th her sister threw her a birthday party in the rehab for her. On Aug. 8th she went in to the hospital for an outpatient surgery to have 2 of her toes amputated on her left foot. My family and I went in to visit on Aug. 9th and she was in good spirits, laughing, smiling, and telling us she was going home. On the morning of Aug. 10th around 6:00 a.m. my doorbell rang, and there stood a policeman. He told me it concerned my mom and I was to call the rehab. I then knew she had passed even before I called them. I had called my one sister and she did not take it well! I then called my moms brother and sister’s, my moms one sister then went to my moms home to tell my lil sister and brother. After our moms death I and my siblings struggled because she was all we had other then each other. My lil brother and sister both struggled the most because they both lived in or around her home. Four weeks after my moms death, my husbands my passed, after losing a short battle with cancer. However we all pulled together and made the best of what we had. I did Thanksgiving dinner that year, and my sister did Christmas Eve. We had a great time Christmas Eve as a family, we had nerf gun battles, told stories, and such. All was great through out December and January. On January 28th 2012, my brother and sister’s and I went out with friends and spent time together. It was the 2nd best night I had with my siblings, but it all came to a holt on Feb. 10th 2012 when my only baby brother was murdered. Had a very odd morning the morning of Feb. 10th and I thought maybe it was because of the 6 months death of my mom, and I could not sleep. I finally laid down and my cell phone vibrated, and it was my youngest sister. My hands started shaking when I noticed it was her because I always worried if something happened when I get calls that early in the morning. When she picked up she said her butt must have dialed my number, so I laid back down and 15-20 minutes later my phone vibrated again. I didn’t answer because I just thought she dialed my number again by accident. After my phone stopped I heard my husbands phone go off, he answered it and it was my other sister. I then knew something was wrong, and I had this feeling it was my brother, he hung up and looked at me and told me my brother had been shot. I thought, okay, he just caught a bullet in the arm or the leg, and he was at the hospital…. NOPE! My husband had come downstairs where I had been on the phone with my Aunt, and he said he was dead! It was then when my body went numb and I hit the floor. I was screaming and crying, but it was one of those no tears crying. My husband then took me down to my Aunts where my sister’s were. When I got there I was vomiting, hyperventilating, and have anxiety and panic attacks. After not settling down, my Uncle took me in to the ER. They did tests and kept a watch on me for a while. I was then released and sent me home with anxiety medication. A few days later I went to see a Psychologist, and I was diagnosed with PTSD and they put me on depression medication along with my anxiety medication. It is a morning I will NEVER forget! I got involved with Years of Tears, a non profit organization here in Berks County of Pa, to help other victims and their families. It will be 5 months of his murder on July 10th and I many people tell me I should move on and not dwell, it’s easier said then done, those people don’t realize that this is a nightmare that I may not wake up from for a long, long time, especially since there are hearings and trials. I do know one things for sure, and that I will be my brothers voice, from here on out! It has been a year and eight days since I lost my only brother to homicide, and I am now the secretary of Years of Tears.

Left alone

It's February 14th 2013, Valentine's Day. It's been a year and four days since my only brother's death, and the second Valentine's Day without him. Although it has been a year that he is gone, I am still getting cards, messages, how are you? and etc. There are times when that's nice... I guess, and I know other's care and I am grateful for that! However, there comes a time when it gets to be a little much, and people grieve differently. I myself am one of those grievers who like to a lot of times be left alone, and take in all that's happened. I'm not the type to want to be smothered with cards, flowers, messages, phone calls, etc. I've never have really been the affectionate type from the time I was little. I always had a hard time saying I love you, giving hugs, and giving kisses, and I think to myself maybe that's why I feel Valentine's Day is so overrated at times. I know that not saying I love you always bother my sister Tara, and it was nothing toward her or anyone else's in my family. My mom knew I always had a hard time showing my affection, but she always knew in her heart that I loved her, my dad/dads, my siblings, and the rest of my family. It wasn't until my mom got sick that I started to use those words.... I love you! I mean, I've always told my husband and kids I loved them, but those were the only people I could say it to. Even now at times my daughter or husband will come over and hug me, and at times I tend to freeze up and not hug them back, at least the way they may want me to. I've always felt maybe it was because I was born sickly and always in and out of hospitals, and never knew if I was going to live from day to day. Why get attached to something or somebody, you may not wake up to see again, is what I've always thought. I know some may say that sounds selfish of me, and maybe it is, but those were always my feelings growing up sickly. I at times get messages on Facebook asking me how I am, and such, and I just think to myself.... I just want to be left alone. I lay in my bed every morning just walking down memory lane growing up with my brother and siblings. I see his face from baby, to toddler, to little boy, to young man, and that's all I want to see at the time. I see his smile the very last time I saw it, it was so bright and electrifying, a smile no other man in the bar that night. I lay there and hear his contagious laugh, and the sound of his voice from a distance, and that's all I want to do. I tend to do this for hours, and even a whole day. It may not be what some people should think I should be doing, but that's my way of spending time with him.... Silly, right? I thought after a year I would feel different then when my brother as first murdered, but I don't. It seems as if it's a pain that will never go away, and it is a death that will never leave your mind. Of all the painful things I went through in my life, losing my brother was the most painful.

Tim's Years of Tears page

http://www.yearsoftears.org/timreber.html

One year

On Feb. 10th 2012, you were taken away from me, due to homicide. It was the most devastating news a sister had to endure! It's been a year today and it seems as if it's still surreal, something no sister can fathom, if they've never been down this road. To this day is still ask why and search for answers, and hopes that you will someday answer these questions for me. I know there are many out there who have different views on grieving, and think there should be a time limit, but for me there is no time limit. I've spent the year trying to help myself to grieve in a healthy and positive way. I've made quilts out of your clothes, I've made scrapbook of your pictures, and yes, I've even turned to learning about the spiritual world and the work of mediums, but, hey there are worse things I could be doing, to work through my pain. There isn't a day and night that goes by that I don't think of you! You will always be my one and only baby brother, and I will ALWAYS carry you in my heart! I love you to the moon and back!!!

The winning quilt

I always liked to do crafts from the time I was younger, but never thought of myself as a crafty person. I  started scrapbooking a few years back and have gotten pretty good at it, so I think. I've made several scrapbooks of my children, vacations, and such. My children love looking through them and I must say, so do I. Last February when my brother was tragically taken from us, my sister's and I divided his belongs out amongst us, which contained shoes, kitchenware, blankets, pillows, clothes, and even kittens(lol) I got the bonus and ended up with the two kittens, Smokey and Mojo. He didn't have much, but he had enough clothes that three out of four of his sister's got a good hand full of clothes. My sister Tracy and I getting most of them because we had older boys, that we thought might be able to use them. My son picked out a few things he liked out of the big bag of clothes of his I had, but really couldn't use any of the work clothes, me looking at this big bag of clothes thinking, whatever am I going to do with all these clothes, and yet not wanting to give them to anyone else that might be able to use them, because they were my brother's of course. I couldn't bare the thought of just storing them down in the basement, then it hit me! I remember hearing of people having memory quilts made out of lost loved ones clothes, but then to send it out to have one made would probably be a pretty penny! Then I remember my aunt just started making quilts, so I asked if I bought the fabric and gave her the clothes, and paid her to make one, would she, but then the wheels in my head start spinning. If she showed me how to make a memory quilt, just maybe I'd be able to make it myself, not only would this quilt be made out of my beloved brother's clothes, but me who touched, smelled, and designed the quilt. It was I who would add the blood, sweat, and tears to the quilt. It would be forever tainted with my blood, sweat, and tears, and I assure you, there was a lot of tears soaking into the quilt as I was making it, but was I capable? Sure I started working in a sewing factory at the tender age of sixteen, but I've never in my life made a quilt! So, off to JoAnn fabric store I went and picked out the fabric that I found most to symbolize my brother. My brother trimmed trees for a living and loved his job, so, I picked out a fabric that resembled tree bark for the back, and for the front a marbly brown/beige fabric, it had to fabrics that symbolized the outdoors in some way. There was no finding fabric with trees on it, until months later after the quilt was done, then I found fabric with trees everywhere I went! Every Tuesday during that summer my aunt and I would have a sewing day. We'd have snacks, wine, and adult conversation, while both our younger girls had each other to play with and swim with. The first step to making the quilt was I had to choose which clothes I wanted of my brothers to make the quilt, that was a very hard decision in it's self, because I wanted to use every single piece of clothes I had of his! This was to be a queen/king size bed quilt, not a eight man tent(lol). The next thing I had to do was take the clothes I was using and cut them out into 12x12 square, which was also hard because now I felt as if I was destroying my brother's belongings, and thinking this should not be, he should be wearing these clothes, as I was getting flashbacks of me remembering him wearing all these clothes that I am now destroying! Once I got passed that I worked day and night on this quilt for my own selfish reasons. I wanted it done so that I could display it on my bed as soon as possible, so I could be wrapped in his love and warmth each night I went to bed. I started the quilt in the middle of June and by the first week of August it had been finished. I displayed it on my Facebook wall and a girl we went to school with, suggest I enter into our school community fair, and I did. I wasn't looking to win anything for it. I simply wanted to display it for all Oley Valley High students and the residents, in memory of my brother, a student who graduated from Oley Valley High. The community fair runs a Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. We had court the Thursday the fair opened, so after court my husband, my sister, and I went down to the fair for lunch and of course to check out the quilt! To my surprise it had a blue first place ribbon pinned to it! The quilts fame or mine didn't end there! Some following weeks later after the community fair, I got a call from out local newspaper about wanting to do a story on this quilt. The story in the newspaper was titled.... Thread of brother's life goes on in sister's quilt. On November 18, 2012 I received an envelope in the mail from House Of Representatives in Harrisburg, Pa, It had a laminated picture that was in the local newspaper of me with the quilt, and a little note from State Representative Mark Gillen. It reads... Brooke, You really inspired others by the very public way you choose to memorialize your brother Tim. I am very sorry for your loss but I am pleased that you have risen to such a positive productive place, please continue to communicate with our office on issues important to you.                                                                                                                                                                          Mark                                                                                                                                                                   I will honestly say that after my brother was murdered, I had a lot of anger, hate, bitterness, etc. Making this quilt seem to be a little help therapeutic wise, don't get me wrong it will be a year next Sunday and there is still anger, hate, bitterness, etc and that will never go away. For anyone who's lost a loved one to murder! Those who have, have to find a good outlet to deal with the way we lost our loved ones, and the emotions that come along with it. Within this year I have made four memory quilts for family members out of our brother's clothes, and I plan to continue to make the memory quilts and scrapbooks.

The other side

I have always been fascinated by what really happens to loved ones who pass on. I believe in Heaven, hell, and even purgatory, but I also believe that after death a lost loved one can still communicate with you. Some may not agree, and believe that once you've passed, you're gone, and if a lost loved one is communicating with you in any way, it's because they are not at rest, and I don't believe that either. I believe that after we are gone, our body is dead, but our spirit roams among the living. I know to some it may sounds absurd, and many may think that I've lost my mind. When I was younger my mom was able to communicate with loved ones who passed over. Some say she was nuts, some believe it was of medication she took, and some even said she was evil and going to hell, and that it's the work of the devil, because she could communicate with the dead, and knew things before they happened, to me the work of the devil doesn't prepare you, about a loved one that you need to take caution of.  I've heard many stories from her about her communicating with her grandmother who passed on. Not only in dreams, did she communicate with her, but she'd also see reflections of her in windows and communicate with her, in the reflections. There are two stories I remember so vividly, and maybe because they were about me. My mom was eighteen and pregnant with me and her grandmother came to her, and prepared her that the child she was carrying, there was something medically wrong with the child. She told her older sister about this the following day, and her sister called my moms doctor in angry that he would tell her sister something like this! The doctor assured my moms sister that he did not tell her any such thing, and that it was too soon to know if anything was wrong with the baby. Sure enough when I was born, they had to rush me to the Children's Hospital of Philly, because I was born with a congenital heart defect. They had to do open heart surgery on me two days later, as my mom was miles aways from me in another hospital, she saw the refection of her deceased grandmother in the hospital window. Her grandmother told her that the surgery went well, a few seconds later the Children's hospital called to tell her everything went well, and I was doing fine. So I am living proof that we can communicate with the afterlife. Even though the afterlife has always fascinated me, I never once thought about seeing a psychic or medium, until that fateful day my only thirty one year old baby brother was murdered. It will be a year on Feb. 10th that my life has changed and I still yearn to talk to him, hear his laugh, and just communicate with him, even if it's just to tell me he is okay and happy. I believe I have gotten many signs from him and I believe his spirit is still here among us, but it's as if I need someone with the ability to be able to communicate with afterlife, to tell me he is fine and happy, for me to have closure and be at peace with his death. Not saying that after that, I wouldn't want anymore signs from him, because I would still like and need those little signs and reminders that he is still with me. Does that make me crazy? No. Does this make me evil or that I'm going to hell? No. Do I believe if this is happening that he is not at peace? No. Do I believe that I or anyone else that feels this way, is working or in the hands of the devil? No. I believe that all things are possible, weather it be communicating with the dead, believing in UFO's, or other life forms on other planets, and I do believe with a clear, opened mind anything and all things are possible. In this picture you will see a green letter t. Green was my brother's favorite color and the letter t is the initial of his first name. One night I was reading a book about psychic ability on my kindle, and in the middle of the book. Out of nowhere I spotted a green letter t, and it was the ONLY green letter t! It wasn't as if it was in the beginning of a sentence or paragraph, but smack dap in the middle of the book. Do I believe that was a sign from my brother? Yes. I believe we can feel and know our loved ones who passed on are with us in many different ways, you just have to be opened to believing it!

Guilty Plea

Yesterday on January 28, 2013 Robert W. Pfanders Jr. pleaded guilty of 3rd degree murder, of the murder of my brother Timothy B. Reber. He was sentenced to fifteen to forty years in a state prison. The courtroom was packed, and only seven of those people in the courtroom, being family and friends of the defendants. The majority of the people, were family and friends of the victims, there was not a dry eye in that courtroom! You could hear the sobs, and bawling from in front and behind you as you sat and listen to the DA presenting her evidence, the defense lawyer present his evidence, and the testimonies from us(Tim’s sister’s and father). This is the article from this mornings newspaper                                                                       The father of a 31-year-old man killed in February got right to the point Monday when confronting the man being sentenced for his son’s slaying.

“I feel vindictiveness toward you,” Timothy M. Reber Sr. angrily said to Robert W. Pfanders Jr.

Pfanders was later sentenced to 15 to 40 years in state prison for third-degree murder in the Feb. 10 slaying of Reber’s son, Timothy B. Reber Jr. of Alsace Township.

“My only son was shot,” Reber of Exeter Township said to Pfanders, 26, of Boyertown. “I loved my only son. The hurt will never go away. I have trouble talking about it. He will never be forgotten by anyone.” 

A deputy sheriff immediately escorted Reber to his seat in Judge Paul M. Yatron’s packed courtroom.

The victim’s relatives showed photographs of him, describing him as a kind man with a great sense of humor.

The victim’s three sisters, Brittany Reber, 26, and Tracy Kemp, 36, both of Temple, and Brooke Matthews, 40, of Exeter Township, wept as they shared how they suffer nightmares and other health issues over his slaying.

Kemp looked at Pfanders and told him an angel is watching over her family.

“He (her brother) has a laugh that is contagious,” she said. “At his memorial there were over 300 guests. I am hurt and angry. I think of the man who took my brother’s life with sadness.”

Matthews testified she has nightmares about how her brother was murdered.

“In our family he was our hero,” she said. “I feel as though I am constantly ill. I feel as though I have to shelter my children.”

Brittany Reber said life has been a nightmare since her brother was killed.

“Did he suffer?” she asked. “I can’t get away from this overwhelming feeling of sadness. He was far too young to die.”                                                                                                           We heard testimonies from Pfanders himself and Pfanders mother, Pfanders mother stating that he came home and said something horrible had happened, and what if he had kids, in response to that Pfanders mother then gave him NyQuil and told him to sleep on it. What mother gives a child NyQuil after they’ve confessed to a murder, and then tells them to sleep on it? I know I should not judge a mother’s actions, because I know myself I don’t know what I’d do if any of my children would confess to a murder, but I’m pretty sure I would want my child to take full responsibility for their action for the victims family and loved ones. The DA said there will be no amount of time that could ever spare the pain we have and will endure for the rest of our lives, but to risk the possibility that he could have only been found guilty of manslaughter, and only served one to five years in prison, would have been damaging and unfair to us(Tim’s family). I take pleasure in knowing he will be in a state prison, for at least fifteen years, and that I do have the right to write into the parole board, if in fifteen years he is released, as to why he should not be. I am thankful to all the family and friends who support us, and those who took time out of their mornings and day, to be at the hearings and trial with the family. I am very thankful to the DA and her team members, for doing what they thought was best and right for the our family. I am also thankful for all the time and help our victims advocate put in to our family. I send my sincere thanks to the Honorable Judge Yatron. I now leave you with this! Yesterday was a pretty intense and emotional day for our family, but he is now sentenced and hopefully we can move on with our lives. It will not heal or mend our broken hearts…. ever! It is something we will never fathom or get over! It is not something that can be cured or repaired with a band aid! We will always have Tim in our hearts, mind, memories, and we will live our life through him. He will be our angel looking over and out for us, and I do believe he will always give us some sort of little signs that he is still with us.                                                                                                                    

The Mug

This isn’t just no ordinary coffee mug with the name Timothy on it. It is the name of my thirty one year old baby brother who was murdered on February 10th 2012. It is not mug that was bought in one of those stores that sell the items with names on them. It was bought at a store that resells hand me downs and donated items. It's not likely to carry a coffee mug like this! Not to mention the self that this coffee mug was found on, was on a self with about fifty other different coffee mugs, Hershey’s Chocolate mugs, blue mugs, green mugs, mugs with states on them, mugs with sports teams, and so on. I rumbled throw the selves of the coffee mugs, not that I needed any since I had just bought two new boxes of dinnerware sets, and coffee mugs came with the sets. I still insisted in rumbling throw them to see if any caught my eye just for the sake of it, and spotted a plan green coffee mug. Green was my brother’s favorite color, which comes to no surprise since he was a tree trimmer and loved the outdoors. So I picked up the green coffee mug and put it in my basket because in some way it reminded me of him, still rumbling throw the coffee mugs. I didn’t know what I was excepting to find, maybe I thought I’d find some golden ticket to a exotic island or something if I kept looking! So I worked my way to the bottom self of coffee mugs. Still not finding that golden ticket I’d hope to find, and worked my way to the end of the bottom self of these coffee mugs. It probably took about a half hour just looking throw coffee mugs I didn’t even need! While my two children and husband waited patiently! I finally came to the end, as I heard my family sigh in relief, and as I was getting ready to leave the selves of coffee mugs. I spotted all the way in the back on the last self, a green coffee mug that looked as if there was  the letter T on it. I scuffled to the back and picked up this coffee mug. To my surprise! It not only had the letter T on the front, but the name Timothy spelled across the bottom, and one the back the name Timothy spelled across it with personality traits that a Timothy would have! I didn’t find a golden ticket to an exotic island, but something much more meaningful! Some may say it’s coincidence, but I say it was the work of my brother! It was his way of saying hello, I miss you and I am with you everyday! Now every morning when you drink your coffee I will be right there with you, drinking mine. It’s times like that day in the used good’s store that I feel him, and I feel safe. So, if you had such things like this happen to you, don’t just assume it’s a coincidence. It’s a lost loved one saying hello and I’m with you always.

You lose some…. You gain some

Ok, I’m going to get sappy, but I must say this and I’m sure I’ll be saying it again. I want to thank all those who have stuck by me through my time of grief. I am still not over the loss of my brother and I have a long ways to go, but doing my best day by day. I know I have lost some friends through all this because…. Yes… A lot of my focus and post are about my brother, but I’ve also made a lot of new friends, who have either lost loved ones or loved ones to homicide. It use to bother me that people who I thought would understand where I was coming from, would unfriend me, but I actually feel sorry for them. This isn’t an easy thing or death to go through, and some who may have lost loved ones would say they understand, and although in some way I’m sure they do, but to constantly know that your loved one was taking in vain by another is just so very unnatural. The nightmares, the thoughts in your head, the not knowing of many things, the why’s, the everyday psychical and emotional pain, the function of your body feeling as if you are ill everyday, etc. Many would not understand me and they never will until they’ve walk in the shoes I have. So, I just wanted to thank those who have been there, no matter how tired they might have been to see another post about my brother. Who read and replied to those posts, who didn’t tell me how to feel, what I should be doing, or questioning why I feel the way I do, when it comes to anything that has to do with my brother’s death. I also want to give a big thanks to those who have helped out with Tim’s celebration, making it a little easier on me. xoxo ♥

Scars murder leaves behind

            There are many deep wounds when it comes to murder, not only for me, the sister who lost the brother due to murder, but also for the extended family and much more. Inside the household of that person, who lost the loved one, there are so many ways it affects these people, homes, and life. I was thirty nine when my brother was murdered, my daughter was nine, my son fifteen, and my husband was forty. I was thirty years old then my daughter and still couldn’t process the thought of another human being taking the life of another, much less someone who I loved deeply, and spent thirty one years watching this person grow from baby, to toddler, to young boy, to a handsome young man, who had his whole life ahead of him, my only baby brother. You often watch the news or read the newspapers, and hear and read stories of loved ones being murdered, and you say to yourself, that poor family and you pray for them, but then you move on with your life, and you think to yourself that will never happen to our family, not a family like ours, we are good people, things like that don’t happen to good people like us. Then one morning you receive the news, that it can, and does happen to good people like us, and it isn’t until then, you realize what other’s that have walked in these shoes, has been trying to scream out the whole time! The deep scars it leaves, scars so deep, you constantly feel the pain everyday, even when those deep scars have scabbed up, they no longer are painful on the outside, but the pain continues to be painful on the inside. As much as you want the pain to stop, it doesn’t, it can’t! You go from an outgoing person, to a person who wants to shelter herself from the rest of the world, that loving person who now becomes bitter, angry, numb, and even at times jealous, that other’s still have their brother’s, all this and much more. The household you once knew is different, it’s as if your body isn’t yours anymore, it’s been taken over by someone else or something else. You still look like you on the outside, but your soul is different on the inside. You’re walking around this world as if you seen this place before, but it’s different and you can’t quite figure out, how you got to this place that is so familiar, yet so very different from before. It’s as if you’re in some sort of video game or another dimension, and you asked yourself, how did I get here? Not wanting to be here, but can’t find your way back to where you were, as if you can never escape. It’s like living in one of those mirror funhouses, and as much as you try to find your way out, you keep running into the mirrors, not being able to escape, looking into those mirrors seeing yourself scream, but no one can hear you, and you just have to accept the fact that this is your life now, it won’t change. Your ten year old daughter trying to find her way out of this video game, dimension, even the mirrored funhouse, and you having a hard time helping her escape, because you, yourself can’t escape. You can’t explain it to her because you don’t understand it yourself. All you can do is take her hand, and try and live in this mirror funhouse together, and not being able to explain to her why things happen the way they do. All I can do for her is to sit and listen to her, tell me her feelings and give her a shoulder, when she needs to cry. Walking in the shoes of a person who’s life has been affected by murder is not easy, the shoes are so tight, and not only painful to your feet, but painful to your entire body and being!

Families of murder victims                                                                                                                  will still be serving their sentence                                                                                                      long after the murderer ends.

What it’s like to lose a sibling

I am a child of five children and one of the oldest, there were four girls and one boy. I was the second oldest girl and one with health issues. I was born with a heart defect and later in elementary developed scoliosis. My mother was always on pins and needles because she never knew if I’d make from day to day. I was always in and out of Children’s Hospital of Philly, and spent days, weeks, and even months in there, it pretty much became my home away from home.  Through all my struggles to keep alive I adored my siblings, we were like all siblings, we laughed, we played, we argued, we got each other in trouble, but most of all we loved each other and stuck by each other through thick and thin. Me being older and not able to do much I loved to be around and care for my younger siblings. I’d play mother to them with the help of my mother. As I got older I started to have that motherly instinct, when my brother and youngest sister came along, I became attached to them almost instant. I remember my mother calling me from the hospital and telling me they had a first name for my brother, but had a few in mind for the middle name, one of the names was Brian. I told my mom Brian because my first name began with the letter B, and we had a Tara, Tracy, and Brooke, and now a Timothy Brian. When my mother brought him home from the hospital I remember her laying him in the front bedroom of my Nan’s house and I snuck in the bedroom, and just laid there with him watching him sleep. I would say I always protected him and stuck up for him because he was the only boy and quite goofy, but in a funny, loving way. If you ever wanted a laugh, he was sure to give you one! About six years later along came my youngest sister…. The baby of the house. I also remember getting the phone call from the hospital from my mother, and once again telling me they had a middle name picked out, but have a few in mind for the first name, and one of the names was Brittany, of course I told my mom Brittany because there was a Tara, Tracy, Brooke, and Timothy. So we needed another B name, so I feel as if I was the odd one out. (Lol,) About the time my mother came home from the hospital with my baby sister, I was home sick from school. I’d get up with my mother for midnight feedings and changing. She was the cutest little thing you’d ever seen! She had beautiful soft skin and beautiful blue eyes, she look as pure as a china doll. Timothy and Brittany weren’t just my mother’s children, but also felt like mine also because of the motherly bond I had with them as infants. As I grew and became having my own life, I never thought of them any different, and I have always tended to be overprotected of them both, and they always had a special piece of my heart, as if I had been their mother. About five years ago our world changed, our parents separated and even though we were all adults, it had an impacted on us. Slowly our mother became sick and her health started to decline. She was in and out of hospitals and nursing/rehabs. She had her leg amputated in June or July due to diabetes. She made it through that well, and on August 7th 2011 she had a few of her toes amputated on the foot she still had, and pulled through that well. On August 10th 2011 we lost our mother, three days after her 57th birthday. After the passing of our mother, the siblings stuck together and became even closer and stronger, for we only had each other to lean on. The holidays came around and we celebrated our first Holiday without our mother, we had Thanksgiving here at my house, and Christmas Eve at my sister Tracy’s. We had so much fun and made so many great memories, there was more memories to be made throughout the end of January. On January 28th 2012 all the siblings went out together and had a great time and once again made some great memories. My brother was exceptionally clingy and happy, he loved the attention he got from his sisters that night. Little did we know that would be the last night we’d see and make memories with our brother. On February 10th 2012, six months to the day of our mother’s passing, I got a call from my sister Tracy telling my husband that my brother had been shot, he had been murdered. The little baby boy I remember my mother bring home from the hospital, and the child I became attached to as if he were my own was gone! It was if my whole world had shattered, my very first baby boy was gone! Not by God’s doing, but by the hands of another! The piece of my heart that he held was in a million pieces and can never be repaired…. No bandage or band aid will heal this scar. I was eight years older then him and was the one with the health issues, even though he was eight years younger then me, he was as overprotected of me, as I was of him. I never in my life thought that my baby brother would leave this world before me.  I know I must move forward for me, my husband, my children, the rest of my family, and my friends, and in my own time I know I will, but the pain and heartache will always remain. I have been through so much hurt and pain throughout my life, being a child with health issues, but this is the most unbearable pain I’ve ever experienced! Homicide is the most unnatural death ever, and anyone who has not gone through it first hand will never understand the pain, heartache, and scar you will live and it leaves behind! 

Brooke(Timothy’s sister)

New year….. No one left behind

Well, it’s a new year and in a new year you are to never look back, but always look forward, and although I’m going to look forward. I am also going to continue to look back, not on the bad, but our times we had in our childhood and the times we spent together, making those great memories. I tell stories about and hang pictures on my wall. I’m not sure what 2013 will bring, but I’m hoping with you being my Guardian Angel it will be a great one, and you will be my protector as you did when you were here on earth. I miss you and I’ll love you for infinity!

The last goodbye, but not our last hello

                    I Remember that phone call, when you said you were going out and you really wanted me to go out to hang out with you that night. I was downstairs doing wash and we were having a nice conversation, about going out. The night that we went out was January 28th of 2012, our friend Julie picked me up, and we headed to the bar to meet you. When we got there, we took the seats behind you, as  you sat there and ate. As we settled in, it didn’t take long until I moved over to the table you were sitting at, and took the seat next to you, as we sat together. We talked about mom, Blake, and family in general, we had a few drinks, talked, laughed and had a blast! You had  smile on your face like I’ve never seen on you the thirty one years I’ve known you. Your smile was so bright that it lit up the bar room! The band was playing, it was loud, but we didn’t care, as we stood there talking and have the best time a sister could have with her baby brother. Then we heard the band start playing “Come Together” by the Beatles, as the band was singing, we stood at the table side by side and danced and sang to the song. Still smiling as bright as ever, and enjoying every minute with my brother, and as I stood there, I felt you come up from behind me, and I felt the biggest, tightest hug, I’ve ever felt, as you gave me that hug, someone snapped a photo, and then another photo of us. Memories that will always be with me and in my heart. I look at these photos and can still feel that big, tight hug, the warmth from your arms wrapped around me, and the softness of your hands in mine, your smell, and your breath in my hair, as you stood behind me. The softness of your cheek against mine, and the brushing of your facial hair, as we drank our  last drinks, and our last shots. I was sad to see the night, slowly coming to a end, and almost time to part. As I was getting ready to go, I gave you a hug, and kissed your neck ever so gently, never knowing that it would be our last hug, last photo, last kiss, an all our other lasts. It may have been our last goodbye, but certainly not our last hello, for someday, when it’s my time to come home to where you are, it will then be our last hello. For now, you are with me wherever I go, for your spirit is in my heart, soul, and life, it walks beside me all the days. I know it to be true, you give me signs that you are near and dear, and I should never fear, as you protected me in body, as you do in spirit. My heart where you once were alive is shattered, and it can never be repaired, for you were my only baby brother, and the first man who won my heart, until we meet again and say our last hello.

Inspiration

This is my first time blogging in over a year or two. I’ve have blogged many years ago, but never seem to keep up with it. Since the passing of my mom in Aug. of 2011 and the murder of my 31 year old baby brother in Feb. 2012. I thought it might help keep some sanity after such great losses in my life. After all they both were two very important people in my life and they left me exactly 6 months apart from one another! It wasn’t and still is not just a devastation to me alone, but also my 10 year old daughter, who doesn’t understand. How can I expect or anyone expect a 10 year old to understand! when I at 40 years don’t understand!