Hi, Shanon. I sit here and read your thoughts as you have penned them, and it takes me back to when Chad was a child. One bright, sunny day I had a friend come to my home to visit me. She was so thrilled to show me her new baby daughter. Her baby was so tiny, with a little nose that sort of turned up on the end, and a precious smile that immediately grabbed your heart. Chad was in the house that day. He watched and listened to all the "Ooo's and ahhh's", and then I looked at him and asked if he would like to hold the baby. He shyly shrugged but then held out his arms as I placed the little one next to his heart. And I will never forget the look in his eyes and on his face. I knew in that moment exactly how he would look when one day he would meet the woman he wanted to share his life with. And I knew how he would look when he sat and held his own daughter. That look is on his face in the pictures Lanae has given to me...the pictures of him and Ayden in the hospital. It was the look of pure love shining through his eyes, gazing into the eyes of the one who had captured his heart. Had he expressed how he felt he would have said that look was familiar to him..it was the way he looked at you, Shannon. It was the look of love for his soul mate.

Thank you for loving my son the way you do. And for sharing your life with him on these pages. I have been enriched and blessed by your kindness.

I spent most of yesterday in tears. They sometimes start in the morning and drift like a slow moving stream throughout the day. Yesterday was like that. Many times I can cry myself thru writing this timeline, many times I wait until its over to cry. It's sometimes very hard to connect with other people. And I don't mean the people that are part of the everyday circuit-raising your coffee cup to the neighbor, a wave to the postman, a thank you to the checker at the grocery store. No, the hard ones to connect to are the people that love you. That want you to be well-mentally, physically, emotionally. Two of my loving friends this week, told me I look like shit. Ha They were very nice about it; but the jest was the same. This this sorrow/anger/madness is taking it's toll. The computer at the DMV didn't recogize me. I had to actually have manager approval because there was more than a 70% variance in my facial features. yeah. I can see it; I don't recognize myself anymore either. I liked the me I saw in Chad's eyes. That was the one that I used to measure my appeal, my beauty. The lady in the mirror now just always looks sad, even with a smile on her face. The only time I know myself is when I'm holding Ayden in front of the mirror. That woman I recognize. Momma. But by myself, it's another story. When we find a mate that we love, we invest a part of our personality, dreams, and future into that fusion. The part of me that was vested has died as well. I've started listening against to the Silva Life System, unfortunately I'm stumbling thru the first chapter in ways I never have before. It asks each person to identify the core emotions/triggers that create stress or failure. To learn to recognize them. Then to infuse then with a new more positive identity. I positively want those little bastards to rot/die in jail. That is an affirmative. But as for putting the storybook finish on the life Chad and I were creating...well, that's gone now. I have to find another storyline to believe in, huh? How to become the champion that Ayden needs so that she can thrive. In that, failure is not an option. She's toddling along beside me these days needing me to only hold one hand. She is a brave, beautiful little girl. I am so very proud of and for her. She wakes every day with a smile. Just incredible.

My tears began yesterday when my friend offered to watch Ayden so I could go get my hair cut. And yeah, color these offensive grey hairs that keep peeking thru. haha It just hit me. She wasn't talking about the trim the split ends kind of thing. She was talking about beauty. Appearance. Attractiveness. And I noted that a vital part of my experience with Chad had been the unnecessary 'worry' of socialital nuances. I was beautiful. Every day. Even if I needed to shave my legs. Ha There was never a situation of letting myself go, I radiated with love. I knew what love was, I didn't need products, surgery, or pomp to know that Chad loved and accepted me. 

Sigh. I have to be honest and say that the last time I really cared what I looked like was for Chad's funeral. I represented well. Since then...I think I've put on make up once in the past eleven weeks... What a wonderful byproduct of love that real beauty is. I have been blessed to know what that was.

Chad was a lot of things; friendly, compassionate, trustworthy, stalwart--and at times, unmoveable. I used to joke with him sometimes that when he planted his feet upon the earth, nothing could move him. And trust me I tried. Sometimes it was because his stuborness matched mine and sometimes just to see how far I could go. Not far. ha Usually we could rely on each other to push the other if we got stuck in a rut. When I'd think that something was insurmountable; Chad would say we can do it. When he'd have a moment, I'd talk a lot of smack until I pulled him out of a funk. Didn't happen often but when it did, I swear it would have been easier to go to the mountain and tell it to  move. jeez. That's what relationships are all about, right? Two people pushing and pulling each other towards the ideal. The tricky part is always the definition of ideal. ha

We'd been together for about five months when Chad received an email from his ex saying that Chad's 'daughter' died. As Chad told me about the email, he was just dead-panned. No expression. No regret. No remorse. No nothing. I was devestated for him. I wanted to give him a hug and tell him over and over how sorry I was that this thing had happened. He just shrugged. I didn't like his reaction at all. I felt that he was hiding his feelings or he was a monster. He read me the emails and still I stuggled to understand his reaction. "It's a lie, Shannon. The child is not dead." He said. I re-read the emails. Seemed like a legit notification to me. The child had a history of respiratory issues and the mother was saying that the little girl died of pnemonia. Mother's don't lie about their children's health. Mother's just don't do that. Chad kept saying the same thing, "It's a lie. It was all lies." How could he know something like that? How could he be so calm? I learned a whole lot about Mercer during that incident. How he processed things, emotions, and circumstances. The drama dragged on for over a month before the truth came out. The mother had lied about the child's welfare. jeez.

Chad seemed to think that having a child was a good idea. His aunt had had children at my age so he knew it could be 'done'. I'm smiling as I'm telling you this because the memories are still funny. I, standing on the side of experience and rationality, telling him how much WORK children are. Yes, they are fun to play with, love, teach, and nurture; but there's also some gut wrenching moments in there; their independence is just terrifying. jeez. He'd just smile and plant his feet into the ground. I'd fluster and pray (yes, I prayed) for menopause. He'd smile some more. I knew it was just a jinx. And the day came, gas fumes made me sick. Uhoh. He was tickled freaking pink when I told him that we were having a baby. I'm shaking the urine soaked positive marked proof at him and he'd just smiling like he'd won the lottery. And he had. He rubbed my stomach each and every evening. He made the most horible tasting health drinks for me every morning. "so's the baby gets enough vitamins". And right there in the delivery room, he was the first one to hold her. And to be honest, I think he had to fight to hand her to me. ha It wasn't until after the clean up, moving to the room that we discovered the most miraculous thing. Not only had we had this adorable baby girl, but she was born with the sweetest little heart shapped birthmark. A heart, right on her little butt. I'm telling you, you'd think Mercer had inked that tattoo himself. ha 'That's proof," he said. "That Ayden IS love." Damn. How you not love a guy like that even more?!

When Ayden was about three months old, he'd made the comment one day that she should have a sibling. I threatened that he'd be sleeping on the couch until my first hot flash if he didn't change his mind. He smiled at me and said it was 'alright'. The tricky part is always defining the ideals.        

I keep stepping forward thru something that's not meant to be. Chad's death is not meant to be. My feet slog thru the muck and mire of the actions of someone who took his life, my life, what we were purposefully intended to create between and for ourselves. The little bastard who pulled the trigger should not be up for only one murder; he killed so much more than one person. He killed a family. Ayden and I will never have what we would have had with Chad with us. The significance in Chad's passing is so ever present: my choices at the grocery store, hell, even my choice of toilet paper. I take a 'forward' action here and there, but in the back of my mind, a voice says, "What the hell does it matter? Chad's not here to share it with." And that is the crux of all of my current mental functions. I ENJOYED sharing things with Chad. He did the same for me. There is a certain amount of shame/distain/embarrassment in living when one's partner dies as Chad did. And yet waiting for Chad to come home and knock on the door is equally as futile. I've been taking Ayden to the park lately. Today we went twice. Why? Because there was no one there that knew us. We could roll around on the grass together and laugh. We could find where Ayden's giggles were hidden. It was so freaking HEALTHY! And yes, the voice was still there reminding me that Chad wasn't with us. I feel like my life is exposed, torn apart, and yet I remain anoymous. I feel violent when someone steps too closely in my space. My landlord asked me the other day when I was going to start dating. I wanted really really bad to punch him. A new neighbor knocked on the door after dark. I swear I hissed. These upcoming trials weigh so heavily on my mind. I've reconciled that a part of me can not meet any sort of task completion. That's what these trials are to me. Murder conviction. Check. Conspiracy to commit murder. Check. Check. I have a lot of energy invested in those convictions. Like a part of my lifeforce is drained constantly, daily into those convictions. The quagmire is finding a way to live fully in the meantime. My success as a parent and as a person depends on finding the balance between someday and today. I'm trying very hard to keep a perspective of awareness; my thoughts, words, and actions. I had the hardest time on Chad's birthday. His family was all, 'Chad's having birthday cake with Jesus'  and I'm sitting here in Albuquerque, NM within a ten mile range of his killers. Could heaven really be that pedantic?! Could heaven really be that uncaring about the realities here on Earth? Is that what Chad wants to be sharing a goblet of water-turned-to-wine with his dead family members? Will I burn in hell faster for having these thoughts, these emotions? I tell you, I exhaust myself. How do I possibly grow thru something like this and become a better person? I got nothing. The only thing I know to do is roll each day into the next with the desire to create positive results for myself and Ayden; step back away from the theological debates that I'll never understand, and help Ayden find her giggles. Maybe next week I'll have some perspective. Some common freaking sense. Some composure.Some dignity. Maybe Chad's seen that heaven really does have streets of gold, maybe it has a Sovengarde kind of reunion with souls past, maybe That is the reality and all this mess down here is pointless. Maybe this is just a phase of my grief that I'm supposed to go thru. Maybe I'll get an entire rem cycle of sleep...

Several years ago, one of Chad's friends nicknamed him 'The Chad'. It was just one of those things that stuck. The individuality of Chad Mitchell Mercer. Chad wasn't someone that you could catagorize, at least not if you knew him well. These past weeks, I've met and spoken with many people that Chad made an impression on and while there are always underlying themes of humor, acceptance, and respect, each person that I've communcated with had an individual experience with Chad. That's what all relationships should be like, right? Not always so. I have to be honest and say that when someone has their skull tattooed, I shy away. Not Chad. He shared a handshake. Or when there's some gangsta wanna be with his pants down to his knees, I tend to want to tell him to pull his pants up. Not Chad, he'd share a streetwise fist pump. He had a tendency to look out for those with issues-the old man who drank too much, Chad would loan his clippers to so the guy could cut his hair. The ex-con who drifted from house to house because he'd never learned how to find and maintain stability, every so often Chad would bring him home and give him clothes. The insominac with Terrets who would visit Chad at work every night because Chad wasn't bothered by the cussing. The transvestite prositute that Chad would give a cigarette to if asked. The businessman who offered to buy Chad a car and let him pay it off $25 dollars a paycheck for however long it would have taken to pay him back. The point is whether they were moni ed, poor,sane, insane, troubled, or worry-free, they all responded to Chad.
Today is Chad's birthday. He would have been 37. I stand before all and tell you based on what I witnessed, everyday Chad treated someone with kindness. Everyday Chad treated someone with respect. Every day Chad gave to someone their own honor and dignity. And everyday I knew him, I was told and shown the measure of love that most people crave to know.

   

I'm trying to take Right Actions but nothing feels right. Those stupid men that killed Chad took so much more than a single life. They rend the universe. Those bullets tore thru a fabric of creation and left a black gaping hole that I'm finding cannot be walked thru, or around, crawled over or under. It's an abyss: a tear in the universe. The intention of creation is for us to find our happiness, our health, our success, our wealth thru a channel of events and circumstances that are imagined then created. Chad imagined and confirmed verbally that he would be home eight Tuesday mornings ago. I concurred. Imaginings are foundationed from want, desire, or need. I struggle these days with the identity that our happily ever after has been not shattered, but simply absorbed into a pre-creational nothingness. The dreams that Chad had are nothing now. The dreams that I had with my life with Chad are nothing now. All that is before me seems to be a darkness that cannot be molded. Because Chad is gone.
Don't get me wrong, I love seeing Ayden unfold from baby to toddler and I look forward to her continual growth and evolvement. No, for right now, it's not the Mother typing these words. It's Chad's mate. His chosen. And for that part of me there is nothing to see but blackness. Nothingness. I can feel Chad's spirit hovering close telling me that he has seen opportunity thru his new eyesight. I can feel him telling me not to be so disheartened. I tell him that I cannot hear him. I tell him that my feelings for him were created of an aetheric Perfection.  Nothing else compares to knowing that you love someone. Nothing else compares to knowing that you are loved. And when your universe has been wrought by this kind of violence, well, nothing else compares.

More than a few weeks of giving into the cravings of high fat/high calorie meals. I finally realized a couple of days ago that I was shoving as much density into my mouth trying to keep my emotions inside. Weigh them down. Like my heart. My mind. My spirit. Chad was just solid. I'm not so much. Gotta letter from the Medical Examiner's office this week and it said that there would be times when I would feel like I was crazy. Ha. Ironically, that made me feel better than anything else. Even better than pizza. See, I gotta whole lotta of anger inside on Chad's behalf, Ayden's behalf, my behalf. A God that says 'Vengence is mine', a court system that says 'We'll take care of this for the citizens of the county and state' and not one sane person that seems to realize that I'm Really, Really pissed off! When Chad and I first got together, we'd walk. In step. Intentionally. Chad would be the one to adjust his footing to mine because when I tried, I always ended up tripping. haha But we'd get in sync and stay that way. Not a whole lotta people on this earth that you can be in sync with, yeah sometimes for a half a block or so, but for the duration? Naaa. Got something special there when I was walking with Chad.

So what's a woman to do with so much anger and no way to expend it efficiently? I could become a screaming bitter shrew. Thought about it. But that's not healthy for Ayden. I could eat my way thru this until I feel better. But that's not healthy for me. And low and behold, the wind spoke. Little flutter like breezes reminding me of the UFC punching bag in Chad's man-cave that was put back in the box right before we had Ayden. I got that thing out, pumped it up, filled it up, and let loose! My poor neighbors. I wrote the names of the boys in tandiem that killed Chad and just punched that little bag right off it's base. Not once. Not twice, but several times. hahaha I felt better than I have in weeks. Let God take his vengence if it's more precious to Him. Let the court system make their impersonal convictions.   I'm still mad, mind you, but I'm going to 'punch' thru this process of grief and pain not by destroying my body or my relationships. If this is the only way that I can 'fight' for Chad. Then this is what I will do! 
  

I am so grateful, I think, for the shock. The shock sustained me thru the weeks when I had tasks after tasks to complete. Now things are starting to settle a bit. Now I can hear the wind speak. Now I see the shadows move. Now I give even more credit to the man that Chad was-even than I did while he was alive. Chad and I secluded ourselves in our personal time. We didn't go out with friends, socialize, host BBQ parties, etc. Our time was our time. I absolutely never felt like I was 'missing' any other kind of social interaction needs. I'd tell Chad to go out with his friends; he'd rent a movie that we'd watch together. When we did go out, it was together, art exhibits, festivals, parades, bands, whatever. The rules were simple, he could go out with his friends; I could go out with mine. 'Do unto others..." We'd joke about it, but the underscore was serious. Respectfully, we treated our relationship. Honestly, we treated each other. Only one time in three years did Mercer ever not keep his word. Only one time. Geez. That's pretty freaking awesome. It's sad that I can remember the one and not have a count of the thousands of times that he did. I adored the honesty, respectfulness, and trust that I experienced with Chad. Even when he made me mad enough to chew the bark off a dog, I still loved and respected Chad.

Now, I'm having to deal with society again. I gotta tell you, the manners of some people really piss me off! I gotta tell you, the stupidity of some people really piss me off. One of his co-workers stopped by the other day and just started talking and all I kept thinking was poor Chad to have had to endure working a shift with this person. I offended another when I told her what I thought of Chad's supervisor who hid behind the dumpster and refused when the 9-1-1 operator asked him to check on Chad. Ha.(I got a whole bunch of people mad at me about that.) The infantile men that murdered Chad, "because they could" direct quote. I gotta tell you that I have always made a habit to stand back and check myself, my own behavior. It hasn't always been something that I've been proud of, but if I ever did fail to meet my own standards, you can bet that there was a reason. I only ever saw Chad really angry twice and only once mad enough to react in a physical way. It was an awesome kind of anger, like an angelic Michael fixin' to bring some brimstone in someone's stocking if you know what I mean. The rest of the time, other people's selfness, ignorance, neglect just didn't get to Chad like it gets to me. I asked him one time what that was, how he could do that. He just shrugged and didn't really give me the scientific answer that I needed.  When faced with that kind of adversity, he'd just straighten his back, plant his boots firmly, relax his arms, but there was always an awareness, a keen sharpness in his eyes. He wasn't fooled by human nature. He recognized that some people were just assholes. He was only responsible for his reaction. That WAS his power. His empowerment. His method.
I've tried it a couple of times this past week. Straighten my posture, become aware, and act responsibly in my own communications. I still gots lots of learn' to do on this, I can tell ya. Mercer made it look easy. For Ayden's sake, I'm gonna try to teach her what her Daddy taught me. I figure that Karma things got to boomerang a lot faster back on those with the nasties if I'm standing unmoved. Like Mercer.  

Chad Mitchell Mercer was absolutely the worst gift-giver. Now if you don't know by now that I love Chad unconditionally, then relax for a minute, I'm not saying bad things about someone who is gone, I'm just tellin' you how it was. He was horrible. At first I thought it was a fluke. My first birthday present given to me in the WalMart bag it was purchased in, my first Valentine's present from none other than 7-eleven, my first Christmas presents-all movies...you have the idea by now. Horrible. Absolutely horrible. After the first Christmas, I realized then that we had a problem. And since I was going to be with Mercer FOREVER, then either I was going to have to change my expectations to meet his befumbled attempts at gift-giving or I was going to have to have a talk with him. I spoke. I very clearly told him that women liked shiny things. Didn't have to be expensive but needed some sparkle. Didn't have to go on my finger, neck, ears, or toes, but absolutely, absolutely must never be used in the kitchen! And must never be purchased at a gas station! hahahaha He laughed at me, patted me on the head and went right along making bad purchasing decisions. I would RESEARCH his gifts that I was giving to him, he would suggest waiting until the day after to see what was on clearance. So you ask how could I tolerate such defiant behavior? A couple of things...a birthday after he worked ten straight nights in a row...he stayed up and played activity games on the Kinect with me, or when someone stole my garden gloves, he bought me new and better ones the next day, or if there was a book that came out by our favority author, he pre-ordered it. it was the between the holiday days that kept him out of hot water...and how much Chad cared about what I really wanted and needed.  Recently I cleared out his chest of drawers. I found a Mother's Day card-no envelope. I knew without even needing to think that this was a discounted card from 7-eleven from this past Mother's Day. Had he been standing next to me, I woulda given it what -for...until i remembered, that he meant to be here next Mother's Day to give it to me. Tacky or not, he knew he'd still be loving me into the next year. Of all his presents, that card means the most to me.

For the majority of our relationship, I watched Chad play games on the xbox. Don't misunderstand, it was absolutely wonderful to watch him play football or UFC or some other mindless drivel that did not pertain specifically to my interests. I'd clap and applaud when he did something 'mind -blowing' as any good girlfriend should, but, well, the little xbox thingy was a man's pasttime...until Skyrim. My oldest daughter suggested that we should rent it and try it out. She boasted about what fun it was, and for whatever reason, Chad actually rented the thing. And I sorta watched him play. yawn. And then one night for whatever reason, I picked up the controller. Now, for the Xbox guru's out there reading this story, I DO know NOW that it is not POLITE ettitiquite to play under someone else's game. Seems you can do a lot of 'damage' that way. hmmm. Anyways, Chad got home from work about Midnight that night and helped me see the 'error' of my ways. hahahaha I got my own log-on and everything. I must say, now that I'm quite advanced on the system (snicker, snicker) that he really could have lost his cool with me running all over Skyrim causing all kinds of damage to his avatar, but he didn't. Instead, he logged me on my own name, and then showed me how to play. That was the thing about Chad that was so endearing, he was ALWAYS patient with me be it gaming or budgeting. Whenever I had a question, he answered it. He let me play. With him. We absolutely had the most fun with Skyrim. Together.

Ayden clapped today. Two little claps but they were SO MEANINGFUL. At Chad's Memorial one of his friends told the story of him and Chad on the bus trying to figure out how to get their little girls to clap. We had quite a laugh at the image of these two grown men clapping together on the bus. And little Ayden clapped today. My first thought was to tell Chad. And then I remembered....he's not here.
She's growing and changing almost daily. Her little eyes have brown speckles and I'm so afraid that she might lose her daddy's blues. The baby book said her eyes would change between 6 and 9 months. For three months, every morning I asked Chad what color her eyes were-blue or brown. I teased him how brown was dominate. He'd just tell me that they weren't going to change...but he'd look hard to make sure that they weren't. It made me smile every time.
He was so proud when she made any kind of milestone. We were all in the living room one evening before he went to work and I was showing him that she could pick the correct item out of two things that I asked her to pick. His eyes sharpened and back straighted out, he went immediately to the internet and found this website for 'Brilliant Babies' and how to teach them to read. I didn't even laugh or tease him, I just told him to go for it, "teach her to read, Mercer' is what I said. He was so proud of her and wanted to participate in her development and growth. I was so proud of him for wanting to take that role...of parenthood.     

Chad loved shopping. It didn't matter if it was, I'd say 'I need to go to so & so', he'd be ready to go. And everything was fine...except for the cereal aisle. I never made it thru the cereal aisle with Chad that I didn't wish I hadn't brought him. Never. He wouldn't simply pick up a box and add it to the basket, no, oh no, he would peruse the aisle first, then narrow his 'list' down to say, ten. Then have a lengthy internal debate whether he wanted Grape Nuts or Fruity Pebbles. I would be at the end of the aisle banging my head against the shopping cart. Finally, finally, finally he would put a box in the basket. I would wimper and say 'thank you'. He'd look back at the aisle already having remose at all the lovely boxes that he didn't pick...I asked him the first time this happened what happened inside his mind when he got to the cereal aisle. He told me that he didn't know which kind of cereal he would want when Tuesday came along. I told him to buy seven different boxes then, one for every day of the week, trying to add logic to his turmoil. His eyes twinkled and he said, "What happens in eight days?"

EVERY time Chad bought a new pair of boots, I knew it would be at least a week before he wore them. As soon as he brought them home, he would begin stripping off the coating with rubbing alcohol using q-tips and cotton balls. Whenever they were sufficiently stripped, he's begin adding layers and layers of polish. Buff and polish. Buff and polish. Once a day until he had his boots perfect. And then again each time afterward that he wore them. It would be raining outside and he'd buff and polish his boots. He'd had three minutes to get out the door or risk being late for work, he'd still buff and polish. He'd smile when I 'offered' to let him use that same dedication to the dishes...