It mercilessly rips a piece of your heart from you, leaving a gaping, throbbing, exposed hole.
Desperation and panic whisper in your ear, “You gotta cover it up. The hole must be filled.”
You fall to your knees and begin digging into the earth.
Bare hands.
Frantic.
You maniacally shovel in dirt.
Dirty fingernails, salty tears.
You shovel.
And shovel.
And shovel.
And shovel.
You spend all of your time shoveling unto the point of exhaustion, and then, you collapse. Tired muscles. Aching head. You fall asleep.
And you dream that you are whole again.
Time passes. And you awake.
Sleepy eyes, you see that there… it sits….
That fucking hole.
That’s when you realize:
Nothing will fill it.
Filling the hole is like wearing shoes two sizes too small or drastically changing your hair color. Filling the hole, makes you feel even less of yourself than you did before, when it was just you with a hole in your chest.
Grace and love whisper in your ear, “You have a choice.”
And so, you choose…
I’m not going to fill the hole any more.
And instead of filling it, you decide to build a fortress around it…A heavily guarded monument.
You fall to your knees and begin building.
Bricks, made of resilience.
The mortar is new identity.
Your rusty nails are filled with hope.
With all the strength you can muster, you build.
And build.
And build.
And build.
You spend all of your time building unto the point of exhaustion, and you collapse. Tired muscles. Aching head. You fall asleep.
And you dream that you are whole again.
Time passes. And you awake.
Sleepy eyes, you see that there… it sits…
A fucking castle.
Yes.
Your fortress is complete.
And you, with the master key, will open the front door.
You, with the only map, will navigate the catacombs.
You will visit that vulnerable spot, behind a secret door.
And you’ll reminisce who you were before and what cracked you open on a Friday afternoon.
Last night, I crawled into bed with my four-year old daughter to snuggle. Brushing her hair out of her face, I could feel her thinking as she sucked her thumb, “Whatya thinking about?” I asked. She shrugged, staring at the ceiling, thumb in mouth.
“How are you feeling?” I pressed.
Eyes still on the ceiling, she mumbled, “I’m sad… I miss Daddy.”
My voice shook in reply, “I know, baby. I miss him too, but the sadness won’t be forever. I promise you, Lydia. We can’t be sad forever.” My words were meant to be comfort to her, but they felt like a plea to God. This sadness doesn’t last forever. Right?
Lydia took her thumb out of her mouth, turned her eyes to meet mine, “Mom, yes it does. I’ve been sad forever. Every day I’ve been sad. And the next day. And the next.”
That’s when I realized it. My daughter is depressed.
My four-year old, curly-haired silly little girl has depression. She wants her dad back, and all I can offer her is to do everything in my power to help her find happiness again. I held her until she fell asleep. Then, I tiptoed out of her room, shut the door slowly, laid in the hall and cried.
This is my life.
This morning, I was perusing Facebook, when I saw Scott’s beautiful face in my news feed. My heart stopped for split second, and maybe against my better judgment, I clicked the attached link.
It was an article posted by the Macomb Daily. When I read it, I felt pain, and I felt confusion. What does this institution have against my family and I? Why would they allow the defense attorney an entire article to say whatever he chooses without any sort of fact checking?
If this reporter would have come to either of the preliminary hearings that I and ten other family members and friends of Scott sat through, they would have heard solid witness testimony discrediting all of Arnold Weiner’s claims — firsthand. The reporter would have heard a direct quote from the judge about the accident, “It doesn’t get any more reckless than this.” If the reporter sat in court, firsthand, he would hear that upon his arrest, the defendant was in possession of illegal drugs. These things are not secrets. Court is an open forum for journalists and citizens alike, to check in and observe proceedings. So why would a journalist take the word of the defense attorney as truth? Without fact checking?
It’s in my nature to leave the details of court in court. This accident was like a large water balloon filled with poison. Striking me out of nowhere, its acid filtering into my pores. Its side effects gradually taking their toll. I do my best not to broadcast the poison of my life. Therefore, I leave this negativity to be handled privately, amongst family and friends. It is because of this, I will not dissect every untruth that Weiner said. However, I do want it to be known: In 1985 Weiner was disbarred for embezzling from the elderly. (*See link below)
This represents the old saying: Consider your source.
I trust that the public understands the garbage that they are being served. And I pray, pray, pray that an article like this doesn’t tamper with a potential jury. My beautiful family, his beautiful family, and I are being forced to relive the worst day of our lives over the course of months. Each witness from September 23, 2016 comes and tells the same story, again and again. And while other stories may grow old, may lose their impact, this one stings. Every. Single. Time. Every account is reliving that day all over again. On top of that, in our daily lives, when we are not expecting it, articles like these pop in. Articles like these, dismissing the impact that this loss had on a community, a home, a family, three children.
Lydia.
Lydia is currently in group therapy, and after I process the poisonous feelings from this article today, I will be calling a children’s counselor for her. One on one. I will do everything in my power to ensure my children are ok.
But it will never change what’s been robbed from them. No matter how “ok” I can make it for them, it will never change what’s happened.
My children were robbed of their father by a selfish man.
Justice will be served.
***Here is a voicemail that Scott accidentally left me a month before he passed away. It is him talking to the girls.
***
Love you all — Thank you for your continued support.
*Edit: If you are comfortable, please share this link to your social media platform and ask The Macomb Daily to retract their article with the hashtag #JusticeforScott We need an army right now and do not want this false interview to tamper with a potential jury. Thank you for reaching out to me and my family and for your continued support. It means the world to us ❤️🙏🏻*
**Second Edit (8/20):
Good morning friends –
I just wanted to pop on here and update you all with the goings on of Tuesday’s Macomb Daily (MD) article. It was an exhausting few days there, but our family made it through, and I’m happy to say we’ve been having a relaxing QUIET weekend at home.
First of all,
Thank you.
My blog post reached over 25,000 people, and you all were beyond supportive in sharing it, writing something of your own, writing to the MD, or messaging me privately to send your love. I could not ask for better people in my life, in my community, in my Facebook-sphere.
God is good.
And you all had a hand in proving that to me. 🙏🏻
As far as retracting the article: after speaking to prosecution and our attorney, it simply won’t happen. The article quotes a man who lies, but the reporter himself does not lie. Did he give both sides of the story? No, but unfair doesn’t mean illegal; I should know: Not all things are going to be fair.
Adding to that, I believe it’s really shown to the defense what they’re up against. My soul purpose in writing what I did was to give Scott and I, our families, and our children a voice too. I didn’t think it would reach as many as the MD article reached, but I had to try and publicly answer Mr. Weiner, the defense attorney.
And holy smokes, you all really went to work for us, and we did pretty damn good. There was even interest from other news sources. The Bajoreks/O’Neils are not here to fight this in the media though. We know the facts are enough to bring justice, and we trust the Macomb County Prosecutors and the system.
Thank you again for being so passionate with me. Thank you for loving my husband, our kids, and our family. Please kiss your babies today and tell that person in your life what you love about them. 💕
Might As Well Live 