Boots

THESE may look like just a pair of old rugged boots, but these rugged boots have love and a story behind them. The wonderful young, loving man who wore these boots, worked hard in these boots. He is proud of these boots and the work he did in these boots.  This young man was my 31 year old baby brother became a homicide victim on Feb. 10th 2012.  He was a tree trimmer who loved his job and was good at what he did for a living. As his sister I’m not sure just how many tree he trimmed or had to cut down. He cut and trim trees that were blocking highways and roads after snow and thunder storms, etc.  I’m pretty sure he wasn’t passionate about his job of cutting trees down because he disliked trees, but because it was exciting to him to be so high up into those trees, and he felt as if he was a hero. Me being his sister, he did not need to prove to me that he was a hero, he was my baby brother to me he had always been my hero. I was 8 years older them him and as he was a baby and a toddler I was his hero. As time went on and he got bigger and stronger then I, he became my hero and always protected me when needed. The young man who wore these rugged old boots was my first male love. Most young girls first love is their father, but not mine, mine was my baby brother. I am 40 years old and have been married for 17 years and although I love my husband dearly, the young man who wore these was and always  will be my first love. This young man will always carry a piece of my heart and when he died that piece of my heart had died also. These rugged boots sit on a plastic filing cabinet next to my laptop desk. The smell in these boots still linger and I often can smell the sent of the young man who worked so very hard in these rugged boots. Not only is he proud of these rugged boots, but I am also proud of them. These rugged old boots will never part from me.

Hands of love

On the night of January 28th 2012 is the last time I seen, spent, touched, and said goodbye to my brother. These hands of his, so gentle and soft, yet strong. These are the hands I seen grow from soft baby hands to young man hands. These are the hands that held their own, from cutting down trees, to having to defend anyone who would harm theses hands loved ones. These hands have did many things from holding heavy work equipment to his nieces and nephews. These hands had such a rugged look, but loved so deeply. These are the hands that touched my hands that night and these are the hands I never wanted to let go of, for these are the hands, I felt so safe with. These are the hands I will always feel and never forget the way they felt in my hands. These are the hands of love and the ones I will always miss.

Affects on a child

When we lose loved ones, we often just think of how affects us, as individuals. We also never think it affects a child, for many different reasons. We may think the child is too young and doesn't understand, or because they show no emotion at the time, that it hasn't affected them. This, however, is not true! I've learned with my ten year old daughter, it took a few months before it finally go the best of her. She had lost three important people in her life within six months apart. This would drive an adult to a breaking point.... I know it has me! Imagine what a child feels like or is going through! I've learned real quick how losing loved ones affects a child! My children lost two grandmother's to natural causes, but they both were still so young, and the third was a uncle, due to homicide. It's hard for anyone to bare the pain of losing someone naturally, but to lose someone to homicide is a feeling no one will understand, unless they've been there. My husband and I have heard at times.... we'll, I know know what it's like.... I've had someone die. Yes, we have all have lost a loved, due to death, but he didn't just die! He was murdered! An adult can't make sense of something so horrifying! Much less a child! My daughter is a intelligent young girl, and she always has been from infant on up! She's always loved school, loved to learn, and loved to be with her friends. She was always bubbly and upbeat. In the morning she'd get up bright and early.... Even before the birds, and she'd whistle as she was opening her bedroom window blinds, to let the sun in. She was always a well behaved, healthy child, always listened, always did her chores without being told, and always had a real productive day. Today is like a different child, and has been for a few months. Now she no longer wants to get up bright and early, and she' no longer bubbly and upbeat. She never wants to go to school, her grades are being affected, and she never wants to leave my side, in fear that something is going to happen to me or her. She suffers from depression and anxiety. She has panic/anxiety attacks, she gets stomach pains, and just recently started with tremors. We noticed the tremors in her legs first, and now they have proceeded to her hands and even her neck. This is not the same child we knew a year and a half ago! Will she continue her life like this into her adulthood and become worse, or is it something that she will eventually recover from? Only time will tell. The best I can hope for is to be a good listener, mother, and support for her. And with that maybe she will recover from the traumatic event, that took place in her life. Just know that children may not be as resilient as we may think, when losing a loved one to death.

Unfortunately it's all true

This is a blog that I can't believe I'm writing or have to write! I posted my blog around the internet to tell my journey and the journey of grief that people go through. I and my family have had three deaths within six months apart.... No lie. I had got a reply back telling me, my story was beautiful, but they really hoped it was a true one. It's kind of sad that someone would think like that, and then question the griever, almost as sad as someone making stories on death up. Death is something to never joke about or make up. People lose loved ones everyday, from grandparents who have got old, to very young children. I would never make up a story about losing loved ones, much less losing a loved one to homicide. Losing a loved one is so hard on anyone, even such as losing an older person who's lived a long life. My mother was not very old, but she lived for fifty seven great years, and she passed peacefully, and I would never make up that story, much less a story such as losing my only younger brother to homicide! He was only thirty one and only a young man, who was just starting his life! When you lose a younger loved one, it is the hardest thing to have to go through, but to lose a young loved one to homicide is so cruel and unnatural! It takes up your whole being! It takes over you, psychically, emotionally, mentally, and it consumes you and takes from your whole life and world! I'm not out to get pity, I'm not out to make friends, and I'm not out to get anything out of my stories..... Except..... for other's to know they are not alone and there is nothing wrong with grieving, or no time limit on grieving! My family and I were devastated when we lost my mother and my husbands mother naturally, but the pain we felt and still feel, when we lost my brother is a pain I hope no one has to ever endure!  I have many downs in my life, but never anything such as this! This is my story and there is nothing untrue about it!

The impact

Mine:

I am Brooke Ninni Matthews, one of Tim's sister and the mother of a nephew and niece of Tim's. As one of Tim's older sister's growing up, we had our disagreements and arguments, as siblings do, but we always had a strong bond. The bond became stronger, when our mother became ill, and even stronger at the time of her death, six months prior to Tim's murder, for all the siblings had was each other to lean on. As I am reminded everyday that I do not have my only brother anymore. I try to move on with the memories he left me, his smile, the sound of his voice, his laughter, the visits on his way home from work, when I'd be standing up at the bus stop, the great big hugs, the brotherly joking and love, the way he ate, the way he brushed his hands over his plate every so often as he ate, the way he wore his hats slightly off to the side, memories I will no longer be able to make anymore. There is nothing left, but a wooden box with his ashes, and a chunk of hair that is kept tucked in my pillow case. The morning I learned of my brother's murder, I was admitted to the ER because I turned blue and could barely breath. When I was in the ER the doctor on call became very concerned because I already suffered from previous heart problems. I was put on anxiety medicine and was ordered to see a psychologist and my family doctor. The psychologist diagnosed me with PTSD, depression, anxiety/panic attacks. I barely sleep at night because I have nightmares or picture how my brother was murdered, as he was lying there in his blood. Was he alone, was he asking for any of us, what was his last words, etc? As I struggle with this, I have to keep telling myself, to I and his family he was the hero! When I do finally sleep, I tend to sleep for hours, even days at a time, making me unaware of what's going on with my family and household, leaving my husband and even my 15 year old son having to care for his 10 year old sister. I'm often unaware of things and forgetting to a point that I fear of what I may forget or remember to do. I often feel nauseated, my body aches all the time and I feel as if I am constantly ill. I live in fear everyday for myself and my children, as parents we are suppose to teach our children and allow them to grow, that has not become so easy for since my brother's murder! I feel as if I need to shelter my children, in fear of what might or could happen, and my fear will only become worse, when my brother's murderer is released from prison. In 15 years my only son and Tim's oldest nephew will be about the same age as my brother was at the time of his murder.

 Sincerely, Tim's sister Brooke Ninni Matthews

My 16 year olds:

My name is Blake Matthews, I'm 15 years old and in 10th grade. Timothy Reber was my uncle, and the only uncle that made time for me, and I'm sad because he can't go swimming with me anymore. He won't see me graduate, he won't see me get married and start a family. I find that I have to watch and help my 9 year old sister more then I did before. My mom has a hard time allowing me to grow up, and do things kids my age are doing. I often think she has gone crazy! My friends don't visit as much because my mom is always sad and crying, and she doesn't want my friends to see her in that way. My mom use to be very outgoing and like to go places, now she barely leaves the house, unless she has to. My mom also got a call from my Vo-Tech school telling her my behavior has changed, my grades started dropping and I was using foul language with my peers. I also realize that when this guy is out of jail, I will be exactly that same age as my uncle was, and find that very creepy.

Sincerely, Uncle Tim's nephew Blake Matthews

My 10 year olds:

Hi I'm  Madeline matthews  and I'm  9 years old and in 4th grade. What that bad guy did, was so horrible, that every one in my family is getting sick! Mostly, me and mom. I even have to go to a psychologist now and have to take antidepressant and anxiety medicine! That morning my uncle Timmy died I was laying in my bed and heard my mom screaming and I didn't know, what happened , so I suddenly  asked my self, did my uncle Timmy die? Then later that day I went to my aunt Darlene's house, and they told me. Then I cried. I didn't cry to much cause I was choked up in tears .Also,I went into my mom's craft room one day and I told her I missed him. And when I cry that hard I feel empty and dizzy. What that guy did was so horrible. How could he take an innocent person's life away like that!

Sincerely, Uncle Timmy's niece Madeline Matthews

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.