Today is the six year anniversary. Six long years. My Dad was murdered six years ago today. One of those things we all think will NEVER happen to us, until it does. It was a beautiful sunny Tuesday, just like today. I get a call on my cell phone but someone was in my office and it was a number I didn’t recognize so I let it go to voicemail. They left a voicemail. My meeting ended and I checked voicemails. My brother was the one that called from the unknown number. At the end of the message he started crying. I called the number back and he told me my Dad had been shot. I just kept saying “What?” I hung up the phone. I called my husband and told him. His response, “I was going to mow the yard.” I can laugh now because I realize he was in shock too but at the time I screamed something to the effect that I’m going to my Mom and Dad’s house. He said he would pick up our son and be right there to get me.
I can remember it all like it was yesterday. It’s in high definition and I can remember times and conversations and little things that I should have forgotten by now. I calmly called one of my employees into my office and told them everything that needed done. They asked what was wrong so I told them. I called my boss. I told him every meeting I had planned and all that he needed to do in my absence since he’s in a different state. He asked what was wrong so I told him. He gasped! I finished the conversation and hung up the phone. I finished up some work and checked to see where my husband was because I just wanted to leave and it felt like forever. I never shed a tear. It was the strangest feeling but I knew I had to keep it together. I’m thankful I did because my co-workers were horrible when I returned to work. I cannot imagine how much worse they would have been if I had cried and been hysterical.
My husband arrived and we left my vehicle at work and he drove to my parents house. As we got on the interstate a couple miles from work, I began to cry. I was overwhelmed! My son was only three so he started to cry. We stopped and got him something to eat and I sat beside him in the back. We drove to my parents house and then to the garden where my father was murdered.
He was planting in his garden on his hands and knees. He was shot at close range with a 12 gauge shot gun. The State Police told us this news in an open field with news cameras rolling. They said it like they were giving someone directions on how to find a store.
We stood in that field for hours. My Dad’s body laid there for over 7 hours before the medical examiner arrived. They wouldn’t let us see him. I didn’t believe it was him. How could someone murder him while he was planting in his garden? He would have given anyone the shirt off his back! We still have no answers and no one has been charged. But everyone in that area can tell you who killed him. How does this happen? How do you commit murder and get away with it?
I have no answers, just a lot of grief. And the knowledge that life is short. You need to cherish every moment and tell your loved ones how much you love them!
grief, painful memories, murder