Tag: killed

  • Domestic Violence Killed My Son

    Today at 3:00 pm one year ago…. I walked into a funeral home a day before Coltons wake … collapsed in the front parkway outside of it and threw up and scream cried before Frank Bucaro and John Brust the mortician brought me to my feet and navigated me to the back vistitation viewing room and I had to walk up to my baby laying lifeless and preserved in front of stained glass windows with music playing softly in the background as if he was sleeping.

    I remember seeing him there laying his face beautiful wearing the last outfit I choose for him to wear (blue jeans, a grey long sleeve shirt with dinosaurs on it , little white socks and a hat that my friend had to go choose for me that was at the request of the funeral home to cover his shattered skull they pieced back together with prosthetics.

    His hat was a sleeping bear 🐻 hat that fit so perfectly that I knew he was meant to be laid to rest eternally in this exact outfit in this exact hat and he was standing there saying it’s perfect momma. The men carried him over to me in a rocking chair set off to the side and placed him in my lap on a changing pad they had created to make sure his fragile head and body were kept safely but so I am as Coltons mom could rock him, sing to him and kiss and hold his hands one last time before the next days wake.

    I promised Colton and myself that I would not cry in front of him because he deserved to have the same momma who laid next to him everyday breastfeeding him to sleep and just rubbing his hands and feet and kissing on his cheeks. I didn’t want to “wake” him and I didn’t want him to have anything but peace and love with him in these moments like I had always given him. I could feel him wrap his beautiful wings around me and it felt like he was rocking both of us in these hours.

    After I held him for about 4-5 hours they told
    Me it was time to let him rest till tomorrow because I was warming his body too much….. (as a mom that was so hard to hear-my once beautiful, healthy baby who was sleeping in a bed with breast milk in his belly was now gone and his cold preserved body was left behind) The hardest moments was looking down and knowing that after the next two days one being his wake and the next his funeral his casket was going to close and I would never ever see him or feel him ever again in the human form I grew and nurtured for 8 months in my belly and almost 19 months in my arms.

    Today was the first time one year ago I got to see my baby whom I hadn’t seen in 4 days which before then I had never been away from him for more that a couple times for 3 hours maximum time – and those four days seemed like eternity ……. and now this year feels 1,000 times worse and absolutely endlessly infinite minutes that have passed by living here on earth without half my heart and half of my soul. It was holding him then that I knew I had to make sure another mom or dad never sat at a funeral home holding their baby saying goodbye forever because their abuser decided to kill their family.

    Abuse it abuse no matter how small
    One hand in heaven one hand on earth
    Healthy love is safe love

    This picture is how he slept everyday in my bed next to be breastfeeding- this is the exact position that his “father” shot him 10+ times in.


    Domestic violence is real and it’s deadly .

    It was almost three caskets lined up that day….. but God gave us voices again for a reason and it’s to change the world so this doesn’t happen again.

    Credit https://www.facebook.com/coltonslegacy2019/

  • I Wish Mummy Didn’t Kill Me

    I wish mummy didn’t kill me!

    This is a story about a young boy with a huge heart. And it’s a story that everyone should read and share.
    The story is about James, but ultimately, it isn’t about him. It is, about millions of other children like James, living the same nightmare across the entire world today.

    This story of James is fictional, its message hit me right in the heart . We must not ignore this issue or message.

    We must not forget James.
    My name is James and I am  6-years-old. I love my mummy and daddy, but I’m also very scared of them. They often hit me and I don’t understand or know why.

    This morning I woke up and went to school. I am good learning and do as I’m told and my teacher likes me.

    I like all my classmates, too, but I have no friends. That’s why I usually stay indoors during breaks. Nobody wants to play with me. I tried to make friends with the other children, but they said No and also said I was disgusting.

    They laugh at me because I wear the same worn-out jeans, t-shirt and torn shoes every day.

    One day after school I went into the coat room and stole a jacket that was hanging there for a long time, nobody seemed to be missing it. Then I went home alone through the snowstorm. I was shivering with cold and it was hard to walk against the strong wind. Suddenly someone pushed me forward, I fell down in the snow and someone pressed my face into it. Then they said:

    “No one likes you. Idiot!”

    They kicked me in my back and in my stomach, then they ran away and left me in the cold snow.

    I cried. Not because I was cold or injured, I cried because I did not have a single friend, even though I liked everyone else.

    As soon as I got home, my mummy ran over and grabbed me by the hair.

    “Where have you been? Why are you so wet and dirty? Bloody kid, no dinner for you, go to your room and stay there.”

    I did as my mummy told me, I went into my room and did not get out until the next day, although I was very hungry and freezing cold.

    My school work got worse and worse, and every time daddy was informed, he hit me hard. Once he hit me so hard that I could not move my index finger, I never got back the movement in my index finger and all the children laughed at me for it.

    Time went by and one day I got a lot of pain in my chest.

    Mummy and daddy did not care I was hurt. In the evening I lay in my bed and I only wanted one thing. I wish I would not hurt more, because I did not want to annoy Mummy and Daddy. I love them so much, I really do.

    The next day at school we were told to paint our biggest dream. The other children painted cars, rockets and nice dolls. I did not.

    Not because I don’t like those things, but because what I wished for most of all was a loving mummy and daddy. So I painted a family. One mummy, one daddy and their son. They played games and everyone was happy. As I painted, I cried silently. I would love to have a mummy and daddy who loved me.

    When it was my turn to show  my painting for the class, everyone laughed at me.

    I stood in front of the class and explained:

    “My biggest dream is a loving family”.

    The laughs got louder. I began to cry and said,

    “Please don’t laugh at me, this is my biggest dream! You can hit me, you can hate me, but I beg you, please don’t laugh at me.

     want parents like you have, that hug and laugh with me, who pick me up after school and are happy to see me. I know I’m ugly and weak, I know I have a crooked finger, but please don’t laugh at me.”

    The teacher tried to wipe my tears, I think some children understood me, but many continued to laugh.

    One day when I got a test back, I immediately saw that I had a bad result. I knew my mummy would be very upset.

    I was afraid to go home, but I did not know where else I would go. I slowly walked home, but I did not want to arrive. My mummy became furious.

    She grabbed me and threw me on the floor, I hit my leg hard on a chair.

    Then she hit me in my head twice. I just lay there, I could not get up. It really hurt. But mummy just left me there on the floor.

    When she came back she told me to clean up the mess, otherwise when Daddy came home he would really beat me.

    I begged Mummy not to say anything to him, but when I looked up, I saw that he was already in the doorway.

    When Mummy told him about the test, he pulled me up from the floor, he shook me and hit my face.

    I don’t remember anything after this. I woke up in the hospital. I looked at my hand, I could not touch any of my five fingers. I looked out the window and cried.

    Outside, I saw parents playing with their children, throwing balls together and hugging.

    Do you know why I cried?

    I don’t know how a hug from my mom feels like. My parents just beat me, but I love them anyway. I’ve always done my best, I’ve been good at school, but they do not like me still.

    One day I spilled some of my water, then they hit me again.

    Suddenly I got pain in my chest again. I told my mummy – but she did not care. After a while, I had to go to the hospital again, no one came and saw me.

    The doctor said that mum and dad would probably come the next day, but they did not. I waited and waited, but nobody came. I love my parents anyway.

    Two days later, James died of his injuries. In his hand the doctors found a letter that he had not written clearly.

    “Dear mummy and daddy, I’m terrified because I’m ugly, disgusting and stupid. I’m sorry because you can not love me.

    I never wanted to annoy you. All I wanted was to get a hug and hug from mummy, and hear that you loved me once. Daddy I just wanted you to play with me, hold my hand for a walk or sing for me.

    I know I’m a shame for you. I will never be those things.“

    Then James’s little heart stopped.

    This story was originally written in Russian. I’m not sure if it’s been true, but I think that matters little. It’s incredibly important anyway!

    All children are entitled to be loved. Still child abuse happens every second, every minute, every hour and every day. In all countries, all cities and all schools.

    A child’s home should be free from violence and a safe place. Children need love, tenderness and closeness, and a hug can sometimes be worth a lot more than you could ever imagine.

    Please share this story with all your friends on Facebook to remind everyone that no child should ever feel hurt or unloved.

    If you suspect a child is being abuse don’t hesitate in reporting it: https://www.gov.uk/report-child-abuse

  • I Got Flowers Today- Domestic Violence

    I got flowers today. It wasn’t my birthday or any other special day. We had our first argument last night. He said a lot of cruel things that really hurt me. I know he was sorry and didn’t mean the things he said. Because I got flowers today.

    I got flowers today. It wasn’t our anniversary or any other special day. Last night, he threw me into a wall and started to choke me. It seemed like a nightmare. I couldn’t believe it was real. I woke up this morning sore and bruised all over. I know he must be sorry Because he sent me flowers today.

    I got flowers today. It wasn’t Mother’s Day or any other special day. Last night, he beat me up again. And it was much worse than all other times. If I leave him, what will I do? How will I take care of my kids? What about money? I’ m afraid of him and scared to leave. But I know he must be sorry Because he sent me flowers today.

    I got flowers today. Today was a very special day. It was the day of my funeral.

    Last night he finally killed me. He beat me to death.

    If only I had gathered enough courage and strength to leave him, I would not have gotten flowers today.

    This poem is dedicated to all the victims and survivors of Domestic Violence.

    You ask, why didn’t she leave?

    I ask, why did he hit?

    Author: Paulette Kelly

     

     

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  • The Day I Came Out My Life Nearly Ended

    The day I came out my life nearly ended.

    I’d like to tell you my story, the story of the day I came out and my life nearly ended.

    I have always known I was different, I knew I should like men like all my friends did but I was drawn to woman, I fought and fought my urges, I tried to like boys,but I failed.

    By the time I had hit 15 I knew I could not change, it took me months and months to pluck up the courage to come out to my family.

    It was a cold February evening, I walked down the stairs and told my mum, dad and older brother I needed to speak to them and begged them to please not hate me.
    It took me a while to get the words out, I was so scared, so desperate not to disappoint them.

    When I had finally spat the words out, my family looked at me in silence, my dad was the first to speak “you are disgusting, you need help”.

    These words still haunt me, but seeing my mother in tears and my brothers angry face hurt more.
    I ran to my room in tears, I eventually fell asleep in my tear stained pillow.

    Around 6am I was abruptly woken by being yanked from my bed by my legs.
    My father and my brother began raining down blows to my head and body.

    My mother was stood by my bedroom door staring and me, I begged them to stop, I pleaded with my mother for help.
    I was stripped naked and whipped, kicked, punched, spat on and the final humiliation my father took out his penis and urinated on.
    I was scum, I was a dirty lesbian.

    They finally left, I laid there naked, covered in my own blood and my fathers urine.
    Two or three hours later my mother came in and wrapped me in my bed sheet and dragged me to the car, I thought she was going to kill me, but she drove me to the hospital.
    My mother warned me not to tell them the truth or she would kill me.

    I told the hospital staff and police, I was jumped on when walking back from a friends.
    Roll on to my 16th birthday, I packed a bag and ran, I lived in and out of homeless shelters, on the streets and occasionally others would put me up.

    I was lucky in the end a charity helped me find my feet, I found work and eventually found love.
    I am 37 years old now and have never spoke with my family again.

     The Day I Came Out My Life Nearly Ended but it made me stronger, I found the strength to run, you can not change how you feel.
    Just because they are you family it doesn’t mean they will always have your back.
    Be strong, be brave, be you.