Dad - Letters

Yesterday my husband was off so went spent the day out and about, which is why no blog. He is off today as well, so we went grocery shopping and then relaxed at home. Hopefully he can entertain the kids for a little so I can write this. 

This afternoon I dug out my plastic tote that contains all my mementos from my dad and stepmom. It has a pair of ridding boots (he bought me when we went down to visit my aunts and uncles when I was 10), Easter bunny (received in my last care package), couple pictures, a couple letters I saved that my stepmom wrote me when she would send me care packages, a couple news articles that I found, all the letters (envelops included) and pictures he sent me from jail. 

I started reading through things, and wow it's tough. All these years and it still stops my heart when I read my father's name in the same sentence as murderer. The first thing I read was an article from their local newspaper, in college I actually called the newspaper (back then, not as many things were on the internet) and asked to have any articles sent to me and the woman kinda gave me a hard time and asked why I wanted them, when I told her I was his daughter she asked for my address and ended the call. As I was reading the one letter I had to turn away from my husband so he didn't see the tears well up in my eyes. I've gotten myself so far past all this by hiding, not letting people see me break down for the most part. Obviously that was not the right way or 11 years later I wouldn't feel the need to rehash everything, but as a teenager with limited resources I did what I knew best, smile and keep moving, cry in the shower. I am gonna do my best to go through this in one shot but I may have to break this up into to two posts just for my sanity. When I had packed all this stuff up I had the good sense to put everything in order, so that should help the process. I am not giving out all the details just yet because I am still not ready for everyone to know that he is my father and my father did this, I was very lucky that it happened in a state very far from my home and the media did not bring it up here

The first letter I received from my dad was May 12th 2002, a month after I found everything out and almost a year before he was officially sentenced. Everything was very matter-of-fact what the weather was like, what the food was like, his next court date and him possibly being able to get out for a little while. His bail was set at $1.5 million, no one was getting him out, not that we thought he would run (he had had plenty of time to run before going to jail) but no one in his family could afford it. 

The second letter (don't worry I'm not going to go through everyone or I might be here for a week), on May 26th, was again very matter-of-fact, weather and food. He had some concern about his flowers, he loved gardening and took pride in being able to grow his flowers in the hot dry climate. He mentioned to stay away from my stepmom's family because they weren't being very nice. At some point that summer my car window was smashed and we received a lot of hang ups, probably due to the druggy burnout loser son of hers. He goes into great length about my future career, for a long time I wanted to be a criminal lawyer, he tells me that I shouldn't go down that path and that I should do something that will make me happy and someone else happy because that wont. I didn't choose that path, I went into the social welfare field but that's another post. 

July 7th, asking about my summer plans, talked about how boring it was and what he's been reading, saying he wasn't sure what was going on in the media about what happened, saying he understood why I hadn't written back to him but one day he would be able to explain what happened that night and he wasn't a monster.

July 24th, he actually wrote a letter to myself and my mother (which of course I snatched, after she read it). My mother had written him first, this was the time my mother was pushing me very hard to communicate with him so I guess she took it upon herself to communicate. In my letter he wrote about me working at the pool, my name "change" Jenny to Jenn, about me still not writing and being angry which was fine but one day we would be able to sit down and he would tell me his side and I would see it wasn't as horrible as the media was making it out to be. My mother's letter was about how his other kids don't want anything to do with him, asking if we've had any trouble with the druggy burnout loser, talking about my boyfriend breaking up with me over him, and that my uncle had to brief her on things that might come out in court because they will be very surprising to her. 

October 5th, he again sent a letter to my mother and myself. All still the same things, actually repeats himself a lot. Asked me to look up a book and take a look at a picture in it, which I did but don't really remember it guess I should do it again. 

For his birthday in November I finally decided to respond, I sent him a card with a couple updated pictures of myself, he hadn't seen me since I was 15 and I was getting close to 18. He responded November 25th, happy that he finally heard from me, talked about his Thanksgiving, asked how school was going, his cricket friends he had made. My mother's letter was full of the same things, he noted that I looked like I was putting on a little weight. I gained 60 pounds from the time I found out until the time I graduated. It was a mixture of my mother pushing me to diet so I was hiding food from her and everything that was going on. I hated being home and would spend as much time at work or school or with friends, I also ate most of my food out. However I was not turning to alcohol or drugs. 

March 3 2003, after he took the plea deal. He had moved from the county jail to a prison after being sentenced and went over some of the rules on what can be sent and what couldn't. He begged me to write back, about whatever I wanted we could get into the heavy stuff whenever I was ready for it (now that trial was over he could discuss things). He talked about taking the sentence he did was the best decision for everyone, that the amount of time he got wasn't bad and that because of the deal he was placed in a better jail. My stepmom's family, was pushing for the death penalty. He told me that provided he had good behavior, which he should, that in 90 days he would be able to make a phone call and 120 days he would be allowed visitors. 

Me trying to hold on to anything I could dealing with him, I kept copies of the letters I sent him (not all but some). My first real letter was April 4th 2003, I wrote about what was going on in school, my job teaching lifeguarding, and I asked him to tell me about what happened. April 15th his response, lost the nerve to tell me what happened but he would try the next week. He told me he was proud of me for getting into a good university, working and keeping good grades despite what was going on. Another common thing he asked for was everyone's addresses and phone numbers, the problem was I either didn't have them or they asked me not to give them to him.   

April 21, I discussed the war going on (for some reason in my mind it was almost over ?!?!?!), told him about a tattoo I had gotten for my stepmom, it is a purple rose with a teardrop coming off the stem. For prom the year before my boyfriend got me a purple rose (prom was shortly after I found out about what happened) and for some reason the rose lasted for weeks which is not common for dyed roses. I took it as a sign of strength for me, plus purple was my favorite color so I wouldn't have to be forced to explain it to everyone, and the teardrop was for my stepmom. Later my dad told me that before my stepmom died she did some strange things one of which was pulling up all of his plants and replacing them with purple roses, that purple and roses were her favorite thing. Strange how things workout. At the end of my letter to him I explain why I haven't sent him the addresses and numbers for my siblings, that they didn't want to have anything to do with him. 

May 6th, the explanation...  

"First of all I want you to understand that I am completely responsible for what happened. There were no outside motives, nothing to do with money (there isn't much anyway) or affairs (hers or mine) or anything else like that. Basically this is about two people who just never should have been together on that day.

To give you a little background, stepmom (keeping names out of this) and I hadn't been seeing eye to eye for quite a while. I don't know if you noticed anything different when she last came up to visit but she was not herself those last few months. The 9-11 attack had really upset her. We hadn't heard from druggy burnout loser for a few days after and when he did call he only made things worse. The Holidays were absolutely miserable, she cried most of Thanksgiving when we were not at uncle's and threw a temper tantrum when it was time to go there at Christmas.

As January and February came and went things went from bad to worse. She had managed to get herself fired from her job and wasn't interested in looking for something else. All she seemed to want to do was make messes in the house and disappear when I was home from work so that we couldn't talk. I wanted her to try some professional help but she wanted no part of it. 

If you remember at the time my company was on shift, 12 hour days 3 one week and 4 the next. It was my turn to work the friday, saturday and sunday from 6am to 6pm shift. I had one person out for saturday and sunday vacation I think so I was left with just 3 people including myself and we had some large jobs to do, one of which did not turn out well. Despite the fact that increasingly stepmom preferred to be home alone she didn't like it when I worked the 3 days straight. I still don't know why. 

On saturday I came home about 7:15pm to an empty house, all the lights on doors front and back unlocked. I took a shower and dressed in clothes to go back outside. I took a walk around but could not find her. When I got home she was waiting by the cars and I didn't see her. She was locked out and angry, she hit me with Pops stick in the area between my shoulders. It scared me more than hurt because I was busy unlocking the door and didn't hear her. She then hit me 2 more times in the arms but not effectively. Then she stopped and it seemed like until just then she had not known who I was. The outside light was off. She was really scaring me at this point all wild eyed and sweaty looking so I just got my breath back and tried to calm her down. When she calmed down and we were back inside I asked her what was up and she said that she thought I was a robber coming out of the house and she wanted to stop me. As upset as she was I just let it go, we ate our dinner and went to bed. I had been sleeping on the couch most of the time since Christmas because she said I disturbed her sleep. Needless to say I didn't get a good nights sleep. 

The next day at work was a disaster. Nothing I did worked out right. I even left my slim fast in the truck so I had to drink it warm at lunch. There was a very heavy fog on the way home so I was running late. On sundays I would usually stop in town to pick up something to eat and a movie but almost everything was closed except the sandwich shop and I did not know what she might eat. I tried to call home but there was no answer. When I got to the house once again it was wide open with all the inside lights on but no body home. I closed but did not lock the doors, took a shower and once again dressed to go outside. I let anger get the best of me at this point turned the TV on and sat on the couch. I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I remember is getting hit this time to the side of the head. By the time I got up and turned around she had hit me 3 or 4 times but once again nothing life threatening. I reached out while standing by the lamp in the living room and took the club away from her. She turned and now out the door still holding the dogs leash. The light was off outside so I couldn't see anything but I heard a loud thump. When I went to the door she was trying to come back in. She was bleeding apparently she had run into the central porch post in the dark. When I tried to pull her hand away to see where she was hurt she screamed to "get away from her" and started to hit and scratch me on the arms. She was very angry. I put the club on the picnic table and followed her inside still trying to see where she was hurt but she beat me to the bathroom and slammed the door. 

I went to the bedroom to look at myself in the mirror (face) but I wasn't hurt. She left the bath and went outside calling for the dog. I let her go hoping she would calm down. Then she came back in swinging that damn club. I'd almost thrown it into the woods, I wish I had. She hit me again I took it away and for some reason hit her back several times, unfortunately. 

From then on most of what happened is still something of a blur. I know I slipped and fell myself on my back and probably went out. The next time I looked at the clock it was after 2am. I'd been on the floor next to her for some time because my clothes were stuck to the floor. I could hardly stand up straight so I knew my back was out but at that point I already knew she was dead. I panicked, totally lost it at that point. All I could think about was hiding what I had done from the world.

I could barely move her but I knew I had to do something before daylight. I got her into the tub and cleaned up the house as best I could. Then I put her in the jeep and went out to the spot where I'd left her. Two weeks later when I took the cops out there at first I had no idea what they meant when they said she wasn't complete. It wasn't until several weeks later that I'd realized what I'd done in the tub that night. I still don't know what I did with the rest of her. I must think about it a thousand times a day but I still can't remember I'd like to, for somebodys sake. 

For the following two weeks I tried to hide from the truth. I must have lied to everybody about what had happened. I'll never be able to forgive myself for what I did and I certainly don't expect anyone else to.

I feel very grateful for the sentence I got, not so much for myself, but maybe I can do some good somewhere to make up for what I did. That's why I took the plea bargain. Just so I wouldn't hurt anyone anymore."

Ok that's enough for me. It's 3am and I doubt I'll be able to get much sleep the rest of the night but my emotions need a break. I had to remove all emotion to get through this, my next blog will do more letters and go into some of my emotions.  

Dad - Crumbling World

This April 11th will be 11 years from that Thursday. The day my world was turned completely upside down, and not in the way most 17 year olds worlds get turned upside down. Just the September before I was a girl going into my junior year of school, a couple weeks after the start of the year the twin towers were attacked. I lost the sense of security I always felt growing up in this country. April 11th I lost so much more. 

After leaving home I went to the SAT prep course and started balling the second I saw my friend. My mother had called her to tell her I wasn't coming because she had to talk to me about something, my friend later told me she thought I was pregnant or something. That night I wound up sitting in a parking lot with another friend of mine, both of us crying on and off for hours. The next day was a big blood drive at our school and I had pledged to donate a couple weeks earlier, plus I couldn't stay home I needed the support of friends and my teachers. I immediately went to my favorite teacher's classroom when I arrived at school, he took one look at me and kicked everyone out of his room, I sat there and cried for the first two periods of the day. He had already known, my mother had told my guidance counselor and he spoke with that teacher knowing I would go to him for support. I donated blood and then left for the day, most of the students that donated had permission to only stay half the day. After I left my friend's mother took us to get our nails done. Everywhere I went I saw someone that looked like or had mannerisms like my stepmom. I hoped and hoped that it was all made up, that my stepmom really ran away and was back in my town hiding out. That Saturday I went back to work, I was working as a lifeguard and swim instructor at the YMCA, I was closer to my bosses than my mother and found that being around them and the kids helped me to not think about it. 

At some point that weekend my mother took me to visit a couple that were friends with my dad and stepmom. They very sternly said that I should not attend any kind of memorial service that my stepmom's family had from her, and my mother agreed. I wanted to go, I wanted to say goodbye, I did not do anything wrong. A week or two later I found her obituary in the newspaper and it had a memorial service listed but I didn't go. 

Time started passing, every once in a while my mother would tell me she spoke with my dad's lawyer or my aunt or uncle. I was never very close to his family, nor was I close to my half siblings from his first marriage, and after this we were pushed even farther apart. My mother would tell me if there was a hearing or any new information she found out. However over time she started keeping more and more from me, and even took it to some extremes when I was older but that's for another post. I finished up that school year with absences totaling higher than all my years in school and grades my lowest ever. I wasn't allowed to tell people, I told a couple close friends and my bosses at work. My mother only told my one aunt (on her side of the family) because I went to school with my cousins and in case people started talking at school. But my mother did not want my grandmother to know and wanted to limit as many people knowing as she could. 

So here I was 17 years old, I just lost two parents in one day and I had a very weak support system. I had my mother (who was at first telling me he could have never done it, then telling me I owed it to him to be there for him, then completely flipping again as I got older which is also for another post), my stepdad (who was always great but was the life isn't fair get over it type), my bosses and teachers, my teenage friends, and a boyfriend. 

My friends were as good of a support as 17 year olds would be. They listened to me but had no idea what to say to me. I was also the one they always came to for advice, which they stopped doing because they felt their "little" problems weren't something they could "bother" me with. Over time a distance grew between us. They wanted to go out and be young and stupid but knew I was going through a rough time so instead of doing something that I wanted to do they would just go out without me. They didn't want to think of it and nor should they have had to. My guidance counselor didn't even know what to do with me, the last time I visited my high school he saw me and quickly put his head down and walked past me as fast as he could. My boyfriend stuck around for two more months and then disappeared, my mother worked with his father and heard rumors that his dad made him break up with me. My world that was flipped upside down was now crashing down around me. 

I started receiving letters from my dad, there would be this little piece of paper in the envelop (like a fortune from a fortune cookie) that said the letter was from an inmate at a correctional facility. At first I could barely read them, there was no way I would write him back. But my mother pushed me to, telling me I was all he had, my siblings and his weren't there for him so I should be (even though I was by far the youngest). The letters wouldn't say much, maybe one day I will dig them out and post portions of them, he would also include pictures he would draw. 

Some point over the summer my stepbrother (stepmom's only son) traveled to their home, he was older and had lived by me still, and had the local sheriff drove to the house (crime scene) so he could break in and steal important documents. My stepbrother is a lovely person... As my high school health teacher would have said he's a druggy burnout loser. When my dad and stepmom lived by me he would break into their home and steal things and he only came around his mom when he needed money. So I know he broke into the house to get whatever money he could and not to get things that were important to remember his mother. I have a small plastic tote that can fit under a bed, that has my mementos from both of them, that's it. 

The summer ended and my senior year began, my circle of friends completely changed and I spent as little time as I could at home. I would get letters from my dad every once in a while, he would promise me he would call me as soon as he was allowed to make calls. We had heard a couple different stories from the sheriff and my father's lawyer, the usual insurance money or an affair stories as to why. That February came and my father took a plea deal. The lawyer told my mom that they would have called us as witnesses, my mother because he called her the couple days before and me as a character witness, but my father didn't want me to go through that so he took the plea deal. He was sentenced to 35 years and could go up for parole after 17 years. 

My dad did it, he killed my stepmom. He took her life and ruined so many others in the process. I loved my stepmom and I loved my dad. How could I love my dad and not be on his side at the same time? Was I a horrible person for not turning my back and hating him? Did I betray my stepmom? 

Dad - The Beginning

When I was in middle school my father moved with my stepmom to another state far away in the south. He moved because he was sick of the cold weather, the expense of living in NY, and he wanted to be closer to his siblings. I never really understood why he didn't want to be closer to me his daughter and his other children, but he did spend a good deal of time trying to push me to go to college by him.

When I was little we weren't that close, wasn't until I was in fourth grade and started playing soccer that I started seeing him twice a week, despite him living less than 5 minutes from me. He would take me to soccer practice during the week and then I would go to his house for dinner with him. We would work on my homework together and then my stepmom would come home from work and we would hang out/watch TV for a little before he brought me home. Then on the weekends we would go to my soccer games and I would go back to his house for dinner and whatever else he had going on. When it wasn't soccer season I would just go to his house, in the spring and summer we would go sailing in the harbor by our town. The winter we would watch hockey and football on TV. As I got a little older and closer to my teen years, I started making friends in his neighborhood (it was a different school district even though it was so close) and my mom would spend time at my future stepdad's house so I would cancel on him more often. Then he moved, I went for the drive with him down stayed a couple days then flew back home, I cried the entire flight. Our relationship was so new and he was leaving, I never had the guts to tell him how much it hurt that he left, so I didn't even let him see that I cried when I left. We would talk on the phone every once in a while and he would write me letters some times. The time between our calls got farther and farther apart as I got older and did more things with my friends and worked a lot. He came back to visit when I was in 8th grade for my half brother's wedding and when I was in 9th grade I went to visit him for a week during spring break. It got to the point that I would only talk to him around holidays. My stepmom would send me care packages, which usually included a novelty item for whatever holiday was coming and a package of socks.

Around my junior year of high school we talked about me coming for a visit but time would pass and it would never happen. February of my junior year of high school my stepmom came back to see her family and friends. I was able to get together with her twice, at the time I tried to make it for as short as I possibly could, I was a teenager and would rather be with my friends. Plus as much as I loved my stepmom I was jealous that she had my dad all to herself. During her visit I spoke with my dad once on the phone and that was the last time I ever spoke with him. A couple weeks after my stepmom went back I received a care package with Valentine's Day chocolates, an Easter bunny and a package of socks. I never got around to calling her and thanking her.

April was a very busy month, I was preparing for prom (I was the only one of my friends that was actually looking forward to going), I was preparing to pick and apply for colleges, I had even toured a bunch of them, I had a boyfriend and worked 5 days a week. Our spring break was in the beginning of April that year and the day before it started a peer was pulled out of our classroom to be told his father had suffered two heart attacks only hours apart but passed away during the second one. I wasn't close to this peer but we had a lot of classes together, I remember thinking to myself I have no idea what I'd do if I lost a parent (not so much my mother as we have never been close). So I spent the entire break contacting our class teacher and other students to try and do something for him.

Sunday evening before school started back up my mother sat me down to tell me that the night before she received a call from my dad. He told her that him and my stepmom had gotten into an argument over the phone one night while he was at work and when he returned from work she wasn't home. It had been a couple weeks and she hadn't come home, she had called him once and told him she was fine but since he hadn't heard anything. My uncle convinced him to file a missing persons report with the police and he was wondering if we had heard anything from her. She left the house with the dog but didn't take her car. The next day when I went to school I hung around after my one class to talk with my favorite teacher. I told him what was going on and broke down, I told him it didn't seem right (my stepmom was a very nervous person and I could not see her leaving the house late at night with the dog and no mode of transportation) and that I was thinking the worst. My teacher calmed me down and told me not to think like that and that she was fine. One of my biggest mistakes in life was not calling my father to talk to him after that.

That Thursday I had a guidance counselor appointment with my mother to pick colleges to apply to. I walked in the room and my mother was shockingly on time and already there, she was also wiping tears from her eyes. I didn't think more of it other then it was her crying because I was planning on going away to school. Later that day I went to see my favorite teacher about a project I owed him and he quickly shooed my off and said we would talk about it another time. That day after school I had a staff meeting at work and then I was picking up a friend to go to a SAT prep course. On my way to go pick up my friend my mom called me and demanded that I came home so we could go and drop off the deposit with the limo company for prom night. So I went back home and she told me we had to talk but not in front of my little brother so we went up to her room.

She sat me down and immediately starting crying. She told me that a couple days before she got a call from a police officer and he told her that my stepmom wasn't alive. He told her that she was murdered and that they brought my father in for a lie-detector test which he failed. My mother then told me the police officer told him that he confessed to killing her. All I could say was no you are lying to me, she kept trying to hug me but I just kept pushing her away. I finally left her room and said I needed to get out, my stepdad was at the bottom of the stairs, we hugged forever while I cried into his chest. I left to go be with my friends....  

Little More Detail

I want to make a commitment to writing in this at least once a day even if it is a short blog. I have been trying to figure out where to start and I think I might have figured it out. 

I have been making changes in my life and some of the things I have done haven't turned out how I would want them but I am still happy about doing them because it is about time. I want a whole new me, I want to make sure I can be the best mom and give my kids everything they deserve. I don't want them to have a life at all close to mine as a child. 

Let me start from the beginning. My father was married to a woman, who he had 3 kids with (two boys and a girl). I'm not sure why their marriage ended but it did and then he married my mother. They had me, my father was an alcoholic and cheated on my mother. He would bring me over to his girlfriend's house, which I actually remember. My parents divorced when I was young, my mother had told me they were divorced by the time I was two and my father has told me I was three. My father got sober and married again, but not to the girlfriend he had, a couple years later (I was 5 or 6 when they married). 

Shortly after they divorced my mother moved us in with her boyfriend in a different town. That didn't work out and we moved back to the town I was born in, when I was in second grade. By the time we had a house and we moved in my mother had another boyfriend. Which didn't last long, she started dating his best friend. My mother had my little brother with him, I was nine years old. A year after my brother was born the boyfriend beat up my mother and aunt. Right after she ended things with my brother's father she got into a short lived relationship with a co-worker. Then she started dating the man that turned into my stepdad. My stepdad had three children from a previous marriage (2 boys and a girl) who were all a bit older than me. They got married my freshman year of high school. When I was in college they got divorced. My stepdad was a good guy, one of the only guys my mother dated that was actually a good guy. 

Ok so that's a little more detailed than yesterday's post. It will just make it easier to write about the things I need to write about. 

Just a Quick About Me

Over the years I have started blogs, probably about three different ones total. I would post in them a couple times then stop. Last summer I decided to make some changes in my life, basically I'm gonna start speaking up. Recently I started a weight loss journey as well, and have been blogging on that site. I realized how helpful blogging has been and decided that I should start again. This will be my form of therapy. I think everyone needs/has a form of therapy. 

In the middle of January I started Nutrisystem, I have lost 18.5 pounds since and have a little more than 100 pounds to go. It is gonna be a long journey but I am doing this for my children. I want to be healthy for them, I want to be around as long as I can, I want to be comfortable with being in pictures with them, I want them to have healthy lives. 

So a little about myself, I'm in my twenties, I have two kids (2 years old and 5 months old). I am married but neither of our families know (story for another post). We have two dogs. I have a bachelors degree in psychology. Currently I am a stay at home mom but I have had several different jobs. Throughout high school and college I was a lifeguard and swim instructor. I worked for a short time, after college, as a preschool teacher. Then I worked at a child and family center, started as a direct care worker in a RTC and then became a family support worker. As a direct care worker I worked with teenagers that were either hard to place, taken from their homes or their parents gave up their rights. As a family support worker I went into peoples homes and taught them about parent-child interaction, child development, put them in touch with community resources and monitored for any abuse. Both we very emotionally challenging but I have learned a lot from them. 

After high school I went to a college in upstate NY, once I graduated I stayed in the city my college was located for about 10 years. Just over a year ago we moved back downstate and are living with my mother. We are here to save money so we can move south and buy a house, which we are planning on doing in the next couple years. 

Gonna get going for now, need to get a couple more things done before the kids wake up from their naps.