What's a birthday?

What's a birthday for a young life taken away? How do those left behind make it through another 'milestone' kind of day? I have nothing new to share. I miss you. But especially on days like this, when I know we would have made plans to go to Cali Taco...and we would have had to rearrange them because of something that happened in my day or because you had something to do with friends, or family, or school. We would not have gone as planned, but if you were here at least that would be a possibility.

Now, I am left to my tears; as I am all too often when thinking of you. I think it's time I accepted that this nightmare will not end. I don't think I'm ready. I don't think I've let you go. I think the problem is that I don't want you to be gone. No one does.
My journey now is to figure out how to let you go, while holding on to the memories I have. That so many of us have.
Happy Birthday, Gabe. I remember you thinking your troubles would be over once you were nineteen. I suppose they are for you. But not for me. Not for us left to mourn you and celebrate you.
So, what is birthday for you? I hope only that you are happier now than ever you were with us. I hope that you see how much you were cared for here. I hope someday to cry tears of joy when I think of you, not only tears of heartbreak. I hope. 

The Good, The Bad, & The In Between

I said I would wait to post again. I kept that promise. I also said I would try to read some of things Gabe had written, either to me, or in his personal writings. I did not keep this promise. I feel like I need, rather want to explain.

I started this as way to share Gabe's story. As a way to vent my experience. As a way to connect. I think I may have achieved some of this. I've said all along that something good needs to come from the useless taking of a life. While continuing the work I've begun, I also need this to be part of my grieving process. I am still hurting, still raw, and Gabe's loss is still an open wound in my heart. And I don't know how to fix that.

Time heals all wounds. I know that I need time, but I also need space and the ability to really feel this pain and process it. 

This is the in between. The bad is obvious, the murder, the loss, the needless suffering of so many. But there must be good. There must be good.

The in between is where I could get stuck. I am stuck. I know that the world thinks I should be 'over this by now' that I should be 'back to normal' (someone please tell me what normal is). But I'm not. And I don't know when I will be. I don't know if I'll ever be over it. That may be what I need to accept. And I may be in the in between for a while.

I have shared my previous blogs with many. This will still be open to all, but I am not 'advertising' this. It's getting so real. So close. So personal. But this may be the good that is to come from the horribleness of this situation.

So, I will be writing more. But it may get ugly. And I'm o.k. if this is not for you. 

The good for me thus far, has been being enveloped in the fold of Gabe's siblings and their families. I don't know if I would have the compassion or be so unselfish as to welcome someone into my life that reminded me of the most horrible thing to happen to me. That is exactly the gift that Gabe's siblings have done for me. They allow me to share in their grief and healing. They allow me to participate in amazingly wonderful family events. And they let me remember Gabe and they show me the Gabe they knew and loved from their perspective.

I am in the In Between. I've seen plenty of The Bad and glimpses of The Good. In Between is where I am right now. And that will have to be o.k.

Reflection/Help/Hiatus

Over the next several days I hope to find the courage and space to read some of the things I have from Gabe. I will not be posting until after the 24th.
That said, if any of you who knew Gabe, have any of his letters, notebooks, stories, or anything he created that you would be willing to share with me I would be eternally grateful. I promise to use these for good. I also would be happy to make, or accept, photo copies as I know how precious these are to you, as mine are precious to me.
Also, if you have personal stories you'd like to share, I would love to hear them and try to weave them into this blog. If you have photos of Gabe and are willing to share them, I welcome that as well.
I'm open to suggestions.
One thing I would love to be able to offer is an accurate translation of the blog from English to Spanish. I know Google translate is NOT the most accurate, but my Spanish skills are lacking...actually I have none. If anyone would be interested in collaborating on that, just leave a reply on the blog, please.
Thanks! Be well! Care for one another. Live your life.

Newspaper Article about Homocides in Omaha 2012

Homicide detectives, gang units working hand in hand - Omaha.com

I Fear I Always Will

Christmas is a lovely time of year. It's nice to see my own kids enjoying the holiday, making and eating cookies and candy, and opening gifts. But there was something missing this year. Someone missing. Not that I would have spent Christmas with him, or he with us. But at church on Christmas Eve I lit a candle for Gabe and cried. I enjoyed mass, I enjoyed the Christmas Carols. I rang bells with my kids. And I wished and prayed to have just a moment with Gabe.
Last Christmas I did not get to see him. While he was home for Christmas from his lock up experience in Kearney he spent time with his family, which I am sure they are thankful for in hindsight.
This reminds of the first letter I got from Gabe while he was there. I found out by way of people who cared for Gabe that he had been sent to Kearney. I sent him a card,  just to say that if he needed anything, he needed only to ask. That first letter I got from him was dark, self deprecating, and hopeless. He asked that I not write to him. That he was sorry to have disappointed me. That he knew I would want nothing more to do with him.
But, I decided to ignore his apparent depression over being locked up and wrote him again. I'm not sure exactly what I said, but something to the effect that I was not giving up on him, that while I was disappointed that his actions led him here I still cared about him, and that he could not get rid of me that easily. And then, I asked him what he needed to make his time there more bearable. You see, Gabe was an avid reader and writer and I was concerned that if he did not have access to those needs he would sink deeper into despair. I sent stamps and envelopes to him and hoped, prayed, and waited for his reply.
And his reply was so much the Gabe I knew. He apologized for his hopeless outlook in the previous  letter. He shared some concerns and insights about his situation. He accepted responsibility for his actions. And he asked only for notebooks and pens.
Do you comprehend that? A seventeen year old boy, in a horrible situation, unable to leave of his own will, going everywhere with eight others at all times. Yet he asks for paper and pens. Because he wants to start writing. He doesn't ask for money to buy things at the 'store' or candy, gum, or treats. He asks for something to write with and on.
I immediately sent a couple of notebooks and pens so he could get started. I also sent more stamps and envelopes so he could write, not just me but his family and all the others who cared about him. And I hoped he got them. And I waited for a reply. And hoped that in some small way this helped.
The next letter I got was a treat for this geeky teacher. He thanked me for the notebooks and pens and stamps. He told me how things were getting a little better everyday. He shared with me that he was getting along fairly well with his group. Then he asked, if it was not too much trouble could I send him a...wait for it...thesaurus. A thesaurus. Maybe a dictionary as well. But that he totally understood if I could not send these as he did not wish to impose. And I'll admit I went overboard. I sent him not only a thesaurus and dictionary, but also more paper, notebooks, composition books, all kinds of pens, The Hunger Games trilogy, a couple of other books. I think I had to split it up into two boxes before shipping it.
I did go way overboard. Gabe later wrote to me that they now had 'rules' about how many items one person could receive. While he thanked me he also told me that some of things I sent him had to be sent back to his home as it was too much. He did get to keep the notebooks, pens, and the thesaurus. He was disappointed that he could not keep the whole trilogy of The Hunger Games as he really wanted to know how it all ended. (He did get to finish after he returned to Omaha.)
I couldn't tell you how many cards and letters we exchanged while Gabe was in Kearney, but each one meant a great deal to me. I regret that once he returned to Omaha I did not hold on to every letter he sent. I have one or two left, which I have not been able to read since losing him. I do know that Gabe received letters from many while there. And I know that they meant a great deal to him. One of the most difficult moments at Gabe's funeral was when his sister place many of those cards and letters in his casket right before it closed. She said that she couldn't imagine him without those as he carried them around in a box labeled "Gabe's important things." When I saw her place those cards and letters in the casket I was moved beyond words. And I bawled and bawled. I couldn't stop because I knew how right Esther was, though I wished I could have read each and every one of them.
Gabe was a spirit that quietly charmed all who allowed him in their hearts and minds. He was not flamboyant about it, as a matter of fact it didn't seem like he was even trying. That was Gabe. Subtle and honest, worming his way into the hearts and minds of those whom trusted and respected. And I am honored to have been one of those lucky chosen by him to be part of his short life here on earth.
I am certain that there is some reason or lesson or some greater good to be gained by his death. But at this point I can't begin to imagine what it is.
I miss him daily.

I fear I always will.

Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.

Much will be said and written about the tragedy in Connecticut today involving an elemenatary school. I have nothing new to add, just my take on it. It is my opinion, like it or not. This is certainly something I would have discussed with Gabe in deep and meaningful way. And he would have shared some piece of wisdom beyond his years. I won't get that opportunity to have that conversation with him. So this is how I'll deal with today.
Today twenty kids were murdered all at once. And as horrible and tragic as that is, we must recognize that many more of our youth are murdered in singular homicides on a daily basis. According to the CDC in the year 2008 there were 2,037 firearm homicides of children. In that year, 65 children under 5 years and 44 children aged 5-9 were victims of homicide by firearm. I am not saying we should ignore the tragedy and violence that occurred today in Connecticut. I am suggesting that every life taken by violence is one too many.

As you can see from the chart above, the biggest crisis is for teens. We lost 1,785 15-19 year old youth ins 2008. Each of these deaths leaves carnage for the family, friends, and support networks  of that child. My point? Many more families are impacted each year by these homicides than by mass shootings.
I am sad, angry, numb, outraged, and bewildered by all the violence in our world. Shootings are a fact of life in our society. And we must acknowledge each and every one. And we must come together for each killing as a community to condemn the act of violence,  while not condemning the victim. For no child deserves to be killed, no matter what.
And that brings me to my angel, Gabe. Today, while still personally mourning his loss, I am comforted by the fact that Gabe will be there in heaven, greeting the children whose lives on earth were stolen today by a lone gunman. Helping ease their transition to a better place than we have created here on earth.
And, I am hopeful that we, as a community, as a nation, as a people, can finally address the causes of this violence. Obviously, we need to limit access to firearms. And, believe it or not, this is the easy part of the solution.
The bigger issue here is providing services that are meaningful early enough to help those who otherwise might turn to violence. Education is a piece of this puzzle; Healthcare, including access to mental health services, is another piece; engaging activities, including, but not limited to sports, arts, extended learning, social groups, mentoring, and childcare are another puzzle piece; support for families struggling with poverty, loss, disease....there are so many pieces to the puzzle that need to be addressed.
Most of all we need realize that love and kindness are the only real cure for the violence in our world today.

The ultimate weakness of violence is that it is a descending spiral,
begetting the very thing it seeks to destroy.
Instead of diminishing evil, it multiplies it.
Through violence you may murder the liar,
but you cannot murder the lie, nor establish the truth.
Through violence you may murder the hater,
but you do not murder hate.
In fact, violence merely increases hate.
So it goes.
Returning violence for violence multiplies violence,
adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars.
Darkness cannot drive out darkness:
only light can do that.
Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

The End for Gabe

It has taken me three months to even try to write this. I will start with the facts as I have come to understand them. They are cold and hard and true and harsh. I hope to take some of the sharp edges off, but no promises. Quite frankly, the editing will likely not be my best work as I am finding it difficult to read what I'm writing.
Many may have read on Facebook about the murder of my former student, although he was much more than that, named Gabe.
Gabe was only eighteen years old when his life was needlessly and cruelly taken by cowards. Gabe was hanging out with 'friends' on a weekend night, like normal teenagers do. These 'friends' decided they would go to a nearby house, a house in which trouble is no stranger. Some who live there are less than upstanding citizens, and have had run ins with these  so called 'friends' of Gabe in the recent past as well as run ins with the law. Gabe's 'friends', maybe 10-12 of them, went to this house. En masse they headed there.
And some genius brought a knife. This is an urban setting. With a group comprised largely of, and I use this term with a heavy heart, thugs.  (I will share a story of these 'friends' behavior at Gabe's visitation and funeral another time) Yet, some recreant, or reckless punk, thought he should not only bring a knife to a house known to have guns, but also take it out and threaten the residents of said house.
The house this group, or gang, went to visit, had little kids outside...quite late at night. Neglect in my opinion, but no one asked me. The residents of this house said they were scared for their lives, and the lives of the small children they were otherwise not caring for, so, they went inside and got a gun.  Long story short, Gabriel was shot three times in the back and once in the leg. He died at the hospital after these 'friends' he was with took him there by car. Another 'friend' was shot and hospitalized. The 'friend' survived, and I have thought on many occasions that I wish the 'friend' had died instead of Gabe. I know that's not right or healthy or what Gabe would want, but I'm being honest here.
And you know what's strange? Of these 10-12 'friends' that were with him no one could remember who had the knife, or who used the knife. So you know what that means? The police can't charge any of these 'friends' with assault, or attempted murder, or anything at all. Which means, that Gabe's killer gets away with murder. I can't fault the DA for not filing charges as no one will talk. So, Gabe's murder is officially known as self defense.  Unless one of his gang-banger, thug, cowardly 'friends' steps up and tells the story.
And losing him hurts more than I thought it could. His family, while pulling together, is nonetheless devastated by his loss. And I find myself in disbelief. Even three months later. I have been fortunate to get to know them and they have treated me better than I could have hoped. I don't think I would have made it through this without his family.
You see, Gabe was not just a student. He was someone I trusted. Someone my kids knew and loved. Someone who had so much to offer our world.
He was not a saint on earth. He had his share of trouble and then some. But mostly, he didn't know how smart he was, how good he was, or how much he had to give.
And I wasn't the only one who saw this in him. His school administrator, who literally suspended him repeatedly, sometimes daily,  his sophomore year for misconduct and refusal to follow school rules, became his biggest supporter and ultimately ally. Gabe, a kid who flunked some classes due to non-attendance and refusal to work, then got kicked out of summer school. But, he eventually took honors classes in English and Social Studies. And he SOARED. He soared until he fell (which is yet another story). But, he finally believed how smart he was and how capable was and that he could, and would, go to college.
And here I sit, three months after his murder. Still missing him. Still dumbfounded. Still angry. Still sad. But still here to help tell his story.
Slowly. And not as well as he would have. But his story. His whole story, needs to be told.