OCTOBER 5, 2020: “Name” …

NAME

The time has come to break the silence. To tell truth behind the rage. The years of living in denial. The time has come to turn the page. But it’s hard to forgive. Even harder to forget. I am a son without a father. He gave his name and walked away. I am a man, now a father. And I swear my son … oh … will never know that pain. I was a child, I was abandoned. To young to fight to have a say. Oh God, what seemed so heavy handed made me the man I am today. It’s so hard to forgive. Even harder to forget. I am a son without a father. He gave me his name then walked away. I am a man, now a father. And I swear my son … oh … will never know that pain. I will … I will… be the space between the shadows. I will … I will … be the light inside the sorrow. {Scott Stapp}

The time really has come to break the silence. Although, by this point one can clearly see that I have long been relentlessly breaking silences all the while.

SECRETS MAKE ME SICK NO LONGER!

Indeed, there are so many truths behind the rage, insanity, and broken-hearted despair that devoured not only my beautiful husband, but so many countless others that have walked this Earth “abandoned”.

He was a man without a mother. She gave him life then walked away.

SO DID THEY ALL! His “brothers”. His “father”. His “sister”. Every single one of them abandoned him! It’s been 411 days since he left, by the way, and even his ashes were abandoned! They could neither be bothered with him in life or death! It’s been hard to forgive, although never will I forget, but indeed I have forgiven ALL OF THEM FOR WHAT THEY DID TO HIM! And for the record, that was the kind of forgiveness that was for me, NOT for them!

So, with that, I must unfortunately only say this …

I am girl without a father. “He gave his name and walked away.” But I am a woman, now a mother, and I swear on my soul – my kids will never know that pain!

I will … I WILL … be the space between the shadows.

I will … I WILL … be the light inside the sorrow.

I WILL! I WILL!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ZACHARIAH LUCAS WILLIAMSON!

You may have been your family’s trash, but you were ALWAYS our greatest treasure!

MAY 10, 2020: “In His Remains” …

The fate of a mother is waiting for children. You wait for them while pregnant, you wait for them when they return from nursery. Wait for them when they leave school. You wait for them when they start their life when they come home after a party. You wait for them when they come back from work so they can always find a hot meal. You wait for them with love, with anxiety sometimes with anger that immediately passes when you see them and you can hug them. So make sure your elderly mom doesn’t have to wait any longer. Visit her, love her, hug the one who loved you like no one else ever will. Don’t ever make her wait. Because they age limbs but a mom’s heart never grows old. Love her as you can. No woman will love you like a mother.

{Author Unknown}

TO HIS

“MOTHER THING”:

I recently stumbled upon the most beautiful passage about “the fate of a mother”, and I couldn’t have said it better myself. Stumble as I may have countless times in my motherhood journey thus far, the gift of all my children has been my highest calling and honor. But what do these words mean to you? You never waited for you son – he only ever waited for you – because you left him, like trash, to die in his own remains.

YOU LEFT HIM!

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, your “son” stopped living the day he was born, but it was one year ago today that the hands of Fate threw the very last spin of the wheel that ultimately led to not only his demise, but the end of the most beautiful chapter of my life. Looking back, I can say that the very first hint of change in him was June 5, 2014, as that was truly the day the “rock” that was OUR Zack began crumbling. Slowly, subtly, yet ever so steadily, he began slipping down the hole that devoured him on January 11th this year, but it wasn’t really until May 12th last year that he started coming apart at the seams. I remember that morning as if it were right now, down to exactly where he was standing, what he was wearing, the look of angst on his face, what he was saying, and the tears falling from his eyes. Sufficed to say though, it was “Mother’s Day 2019” that earmarked the beginning of his end.

Still, on the surface, he seemed to have made peace with it all, so he moved on down the road. We made our own little family and he left you all behind in his dust. “Their loss, not mine”, he would say, and he couldn’t have been more right, as none of you were worthy of his presence! Trust me when I tell you that because of our professions, we knew plenty of people who “know them”. The general consensus about all your other Williamsons? You know, the ones you actually managed to want? “They’re selfish, shallow, greedy, social climbing wanna-be’s in one of the greatest shows on Earth.” Everything about Zack’s character was so far removed from theirs that no one who realized the familial connection could fathom it. Watching random strangers literally scratch their heads and hearing the things people would say about them were amongst the highest compliments he ever received. He absolutely reveled in knowing that no one could begin to correlate him to “all of them”. But I’ve digressed. Sufficed to say, indeed it was “every Mother’s Day” that hurt him the most, even more so than all the birthdays you forgot as he waited year after year, phone in hand, for you to fucking remember him.

So, with that, today is bittersweet, as not a Mother’s Day had passed since he walked into my life that I wasn’t cherished, celebrated, and placed so high upon the pedestal he built for me that there literally are no words. It was no secret to anyone that your “son” was hell bent on making sure that I was abundantly aware of how revered my role was in not just his life, but my children’s as well, and especially on Mother’s Day. When we first met, he told me about his past and how not just you, but his entire “blood family”, abandoned him for what reason only God knows. He was so ambivalent about the things you people had done to him, but it still outraged me to the core of my being to not only hear the stories of his maternal abandonment and fucked up beyond reason childhood, but to have watch, live and experience the abysmal things his “family” did to him, all of which were completely unacceptable. As for those other “Williamsons” you spat upon this Earth who still get to live and breathe in the very same city where their “brother” slipped through the void? If a stranger were to meet a single one of them and not know who they really are, they’d be so impressed with the personas they present. But his truth is the truth, he spoke it, I witnessed it, and God watched every single bit of it! So, congratulations “mother”! You made self-consumed, dressed up narcissists with the plastic smiles and shallow hearts that only a “mother THING” like you could possibly be proud of!

Here’s all you really need to know now …

It’s Mother’s Day 2020, and 264 days ago your “son” shot himself in the head with a Springfield handgun and a hollow point bullet at just before midnight. You were nothing to him but a stranger, and what a shame you never knew what an amazing human being you threw away and the gift he was to this world.

Only God knows what was going through his mind in the very last moments of his life, and “what that may have been” will break my heart forever. Alas, he’s at rest now, finally at peace after the legacy of abandonment you chose to burden him with. But here’s what I do know was about the things that were in his mind during the years I was lucky enough to give him the only real home he ever had and the only real love from a woman, other than his Grandma, he had ever known:

Your “son” hurt us all with a broken mind and heart that were jaded beyond comprehension. “He must have had mommy issues” is what some will surely say, and sadly? IT WAS TRUE! He wasn’t quite two when you left him behind – him, and only him – but not your other kids, because for what good reason he could never understand you just didn’t want him like the others! You never turned back to see the tears that burned through his heart every day for the rest of his life.

When your “son” was just a boy, he had to sit in classrooms making Mother’s Day cards that he never really knew what to do with, so, he would tear them up and put them in the garbage as he was leaving the school grounds watching all the other kids being greeted by their mommies as he walked home to nothing all alone!

When your “son” was just a boy, he would go to his friends’ birthdays while his heart physically ached because you apparently couldn’t remember the day he was born. (It was October 5, 1982, just in case you forgot, which by the way, I know you did, since you never once called him on his birthday.)

When your “son” was just a boy, Mother’s Day broke his heart into little, tiny pieces that none of us who really loved him could ever put back together. He cried for you. Ached for you. Longed for you. Dreamt about you. He disappeared inside of himself waiting for you to want him!

Despite all these words and my more than apparent hostility, I have forgiven you and yours to the best of my ability for all the ways you destroyed my beautiful husband, especially given that I wholeheartedly believe that the entire lot of you are truly evil:

I really can forgive anyone for just about anything, and as God is my witness, I HAVE! But I’ll just keeping taking people on a case-by-case basis. The Devil’s Own really do walk among us, but I’m not even sure they’re “people”. They’re a different kind of breed “thing” altogether. I’m not quite sure I’ll ever get to the point that I stop avidly praying that God really DOES sort us all out in the end. I’m just a mortal human, not a god or Jesus Christ, so I’ll just keeping asking for “forgiveness” for not being too excited about the idea of “mercy for the merciless”.

{“The Walk Amongst Us“}

But never will I forget the last ten years watching him try so hard not to break because none of you gave a FUCK about “the Zack of shit”, your “son”, their “brother”. You know, now that I think of it, there were so many things I was prepared to do for your son over the course of our lifetime but having to pick out his urn was never one of them. It’s all good though, because his remains will forever be mine, and not yours, because as he famously and repeatedly said to me: “Catherine, if they couldn’t be bothered with me when I was alive, then they don’t get to have me when I’m dead!”

So, with that, Happy Mother’s Day to you, “mother THING” of my fallen king. May you sleep well this night and at the end of every Mother’s Day going forward that you’re able to enjoy with the other kids you did somehow manage to “mother”. Hold your hand over your chest now and breathe in all that you feel. It’s the still beating heart of the one woman in this world that was supposed to love my husband forever.

IN HIS REMAINS

Separate. He sifted through the wreckage. He couldn’t concentrate – searching for a message in the fear and pain. Broken down and waiting for the chance to feel alive. Now in his remains are promises that never came. Set the silence free to wash away the worst of him. Come apart. Falling in the cracks of every broken heart. Digging through the wreckage of your disregard. Sinking down and waiting for the chance, to feel alive. Now in his remains are promises that never came. Set the silence free to wash away the worst of him. Like an army, falling one by one by one. {Linkin’ Park}

Momn

FEBRUARY 5, 2020: “The Worst Case Of Mental Illness I’ve Ever Seen” …

Quora Question
Quora Answer

My own husband, who I lost to suicide August 22, 2019. He was the Godsend game changer for me and my daughter, larger than life with a heart the size of an ocean, but had been discarded and abandoned by his mother like common garbage. She left him permanently at 18 months, and I suppose his father did the best he could with lack of parenting skills he had, but he was then and is still but a grown child himself. He was left alone most of the time from a very young age and his basic needs were never properly tended to. Eventually, even the father and his three adult siblings discarded him away as well.

We didn’t realize his ACS (Abandoned Child Syndrome) even existed until five years into our marriage, but once faced with the sobering truths of his traumatic childhood, every bit of strength and fortitude he’d managed to find and survive with in his life of solitude before finding us, the first and only real home and family he’d ever had, began slipping right out from under him. The abandonment issues that led to his mental illness were further complicated by the fact that for some unknown reason the mother was able to manage to have a maternal relationship with the older siblings she’d had with the same father, just not him. And again, his entire family abandoned him on the proverbial “curb of life”. Not just the mother, but neither the father or three older siblings could be bothered with him whatsoever. His two older brothers would often refer to him as the “Zack of shit”, and although he would laugh about in their presence, those words tortured and haunted him incessantly. This heartless, selfish, numbingly ice-cold and shallow brood of people literally broke his heart into pieces that could never be put back together.

There were demons living in the hole they burned into his soul we fought desperately to keep him from drowning in, but in the end, the demons won. The last months of his life it appeared that he was in the early stages of psychosis, if not schizophrenia. He’d been hearing voices, seeing things, missing “blocks of time”, and ultimately just vanished completely within himself. He said he couldn’t “feel anything” anymore, and honestly, we lost him months before he put that gun to his head. It was a living nightmare to witness and the worst kind of heartbreak to suffer. He died of a broken heart that led to his mental illness and suicide, but not before he hurt not only me but even more so our daughter very badly. The trauma that he bestowed upon her in his final psychosis and “separated from self” state of mind is beyond comprehension, barely fathomable, and one that may unfortunately take her own lifetime to heal and overcome.

I’ve been writing tirelessly about not only his, but my mental health journey as well, in “The Diary Of My Perfection”. I’d be honored if any of you would care to read, follow or share it, as it is now my mission to try and be a Light in other people’s darkness. Thank you for the kind words and vast support of this post. It means everything to me. I cannot let either his lost battle with mental illness or anyone else’s have been in vain.

To View The Original “Quora Q&A” Click HERE!

DECEMBER 28, 2019: “Still So Far From Home” …

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Dear “Brother”

I understand that you are upset right now and maybe a little with me too. All I am asking you at this point for HIS sake and for the sake of all that he went through while he was here on this Earth is that you please try to come to terms with his truths. His realities. His last wishes and decisions. That note he left us was a gift. IT WAS FOR US, NOT FOR THEM! You, me, Gia and Rick? We were “his family”! No one else! Those words he wrote in his suicide note were not intended for either the general public, the world at large and most ESPECIALLY the “family” that threw him away like garbage! I will always consider you my family D. And in my journey to speak his truths I will never fail to credit you for being the only brother he had because that is how he saw it! That’s how he spoke of you and that’s what he made painfully clear to anyone that paid attention. He always felt that you were “caught in a void” between “all of them and the truth” because maybe copping to the sobering facts was going to be as painful for you to bear as it was for him. When Zack made the decision to excise them and the “thought of them” from his heart it was a bittersweet and painful gift to unto himself.

So that’s all there is to it. Rick and I are here for you when you’re ready to talk true facts. I truly hope you can be well someday. He worried about you incessantly and I cannot say it enough! It always bothered the fuck out of him how you let them treat you like a revolving door, only using you as they needed you, in and out, in and out, and there was nothing he could do or say to convince you to stand up for yourself and say ENOUGH and walk away like he did! He kept praying you’d find a family of your own one day, a nice, safe, loving woman to finally give you a real home and some joy and healing and peace so that you’d finally “not need to accept their bullshit scraps and leftovers”. Your brother’s legacy “before he got sick” will carry on somehow – I’LL MAKE SURE OF IT! You need to do everything you can to honor him and all that has happened here and start finding a way to, in fact, say the words: NO MORE SCRAPS AND LEFTOVERS!

And for the record, regardless of how it appears on the surface there is no “hatred” in my heart for anyone involved here. I feel nothing for the people that destroyed my beautiful husband from the cradle to the grave! Nothing! Absolutely NOTHING! They aren’t worth my energy! If anything, I feel sorry for them all because they missed out on REALLY knowing one THE BEST human souls that ever walked this planet. They missed out on his “best 10 years” and getting to see him flourish. Smile. Succeed. Grow. Be fearless. Courageous. Change. Become self-aware and strong (much stronger than he even knew). Experience joy. Laughter. Happiness. They missed out on getting to know what an amazing human being, husband, brother, friend and DAD he was to Gia! We got the BEST of him. Everything good he ever did, was or could have possibly been, WE GOT TO HAVE AND WITNESS IT. He was a fucking miracle and you can’t not know it’s true. With all the odds stacked against him, statistically the last 10 years should probably have never happened. He was the frog who turned into a prince and then eventually into a king – he just needed love, and a home and a family to get there. And? HE FINALLY HAD IT! It’s just that the holes your mother left inside his broken heart were deeper than any of us know and he couldn’t find his way out of them anymore. He got too tired and fell. THEY ALL FAILED HIM MISERABLY AND YOU KNOW IT! I’m sorry if this upsets you. I just want you to help me honor, validate and hold ALL his many painful truths and realities up to the light. It’s the right thing to do and I WILL NOT HAVE IT ANY OTHER WAY!

{My Text To “Big Brother” dated September 12, 2019}

As of this night, December 28, 2019, neither of the only two “blood family” he’d ever believed he could rely on to be there when all of his cards were down bothered to “come and get him”. These are the keepsake urns that Rick and I had made for each of them on the day he and I went alone to make the arrangements for my husband because neither of them could be bothered. Somehow, we both foolishly believed that for once in his life or his death at least one of them would finally just show up for him! “Taking him home” is no longer an option for either of them at this point, however, as I would rather spread these ashes amongst the footsteps of his ancestors in all the places he dreamed of going than let anyone treat him like “scrap” ever again!

FAR FROM HOME

Another day in this carnival of souls. Another night’s end ends as quickly as it goes. The memories are shadows, ink on the page. And I can’t seem to find my way home. And it’s almost like your Heaven’s trying everything. Your Heaven’s trying everything to keep me out. All the places I’ve been and things I’ve seen. A million stories that made up a million shattered dreams. The faces of people I’ll never see again, and I can’t seem to find my way home. ‘Cause it’s almost like your heaven’s trying everything to break me down. ‘Cause it’s almost like your heaven’s trying everything to keep me out. To break me down. {Five Finger Death Punch}

NOVEMBER 1, 2019: “In Loving Memory Of My Fallen King” …

usThis will be my last “sad post” for a while, as tomorrow I start a new chapter of my life and will wake up with the positive perspective I know he’d want me to have as I endeavor onto a path I’ve been heading towards for years. Today was rough, I’m not gonna lie. I haven’t cried so much since I lost my daughter 15 years ago – almost constantly since waking at 7:05am. That being said, I had an epiphany on the way home from my “anniversary dinner” with the only real parents my husband ever had, Rick and Dee, who for the record, are the ONLY people on the face of this Earth with whom I would have chosen to spend this first anniversary without him.

Rings

We got married on a Monday at 8:30pm in the theatre room of some dear friends’ house nine years ago this night. We didn’t have much to start with, and in fact, it was right around “this time” that night that we were sitting in a fast food parking lot in Murphy, Texas, eating our drive-thru meals, SO happy and in completely in love. We had NOTHING but faith in one another, and that was all! Coincidently, we had very little support from anyone at that time.

Zack had no real family to speak of. I mean, he did have a family of origin – a father, some siblings, and this “mother THING” that gave birth to him as he would always say. With the exception of just one of his brothers, none of them could really be bothered with him. But, hey, that’s a different story for another time. As for my family? But for my sister and kids, they couldn’t really understand why in the HELL I would marry the poor guy with the ugly truck and commit myself and Gia to what they believed was a life destined to nothing more than an apartment and hand to mouth foolish dreams. “We” were a joke to everyone for the most part, and no one took us too seriously.

There were a handful of people, however, that did support us from the onset, and irony of all ironies, today, my “first anniversary without him”, it so happened that three of those very same people were the people I spent my day with. It wasn’t planned this way, it just is the way that it was, and I’m so incredibly thankful. It almost seems to have been cosmically purposed this way. Rick was the “dad” that stepped up for my husband when the father he “got” couldn’t be bothered to do much of anything for him. Rick was the one who stood beside my husband all these years, and Rick was the one who stood beside my husband on our “wedding day”, while the “father” just sat in the audience. That means something, wouldn’t you say? It was one of the loudest messages to someone I think I’ve ever heard without really having said a word. My point being this: Rick was the man that my husband leaned on for all the “father” things. Rick was his very best friend.

I’ve heard NOTHING from my “father in law” in 67 days, I never saw him again after the service, he hasn’t called once to check on me or Gia, and he never came to get his son’s ashes. Neither did the “only brother” he had a relationship with, by the way, which to me is a slap in Zack’s face. As for now, both sets of the ashes I had preserved and set aside for each of them are regrettably still sitting in my closet, as forgotten in his death as Zack was in his life. I doubt that his “father” even knew when our wedding day was, much less what it meant to his son, but then again, it’s not that surprising. That’s who and what he was, still is, and will probably always be – a extremely foolish man who pissed away the chance to know what a truly amazing son he had.

At the end of the day, regardless of his abysmal childhood and even more abysmal excuse for “parents”, the “Zack of shit” they all threw away left this world as a king, and this despite the unfathomable things that became him as the lifetime of demons he’d been harboring finally managed to break through his psyche, devour his mind, and take him to his death. But you see, only the very best parts of his legacy will live on now, because we’re leaving out all the rest now that he’s moved on to The Brighter Side Of Grey.

So, with that, Happy Anniversary to me! It’s been a long day, and I’m gonna be okay, but “okay” will have to wait until tomorrow.

frog

In Loving Memory Of “The Frog & The Butterfly”

Thanks for all you’ve done. I’ve missed you for so long. I can’t believe you’re gone. You still live in me. I feel you in the wind. You guide me constantly. I never knew what it was to be alone. ‘Cause you were always there for me. You were always home waiting. But now I come home and I miss your face. Smiling down on me. I close my eyes to see. And I know you’re a part of me. And it’s your song that sets me free. I sing it while I feel, I can’t hold on. I sing tonight ’cause it comforts me. I carry the things that remind me of you. In loving memory of the one that was so true. You were as kind as you could be. And even though you’re gone you still mean the world to me. And you’ll be here with me still. All you did you did with feeling. And you always found a meaning. And you always will. And you always will. And you always will.”  {Alter Bridge}

SEPTEMBER 14, 2019: “The Lion Of Lucerne” …

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SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 14, 2019 …

At exactly 8am this morning we were supposed to be taking off on our flight to tour Switzerland for my 50th birthday. Lucerne was to be our first night, and our last, and one of the things I was most looking forward to sharing with him was ”the lion in the wall”. The very one that I myself stood before some 14 years prior while having the first of my many to follow “moments”. At that time, I too was trapped inside the dark and lonely prison of my own mind, a secluded chasm where I was alive but not quite living. So many of my realities back then were nothing more than lies and I but a walking farce. I vividly remember that day as the group I was with headed up this tree-lined path towards something magnanimous our guide was excited to show us. I was looking down at my schedule, not paying much attention, and almost ran in to the person standing in front of me when the group suddenly stopped and turned to look across the pond at “him”. My Lion.

The Lion of Lucerne is rock relief carved into the cliff face of a sandstone sculpted during the early part of the 19th century to commemorate the Swiss Guards who lost their lives in 1792 during the French Revolution. But as I paused to gaze upon him, I saw more than just a fallen soldier. It was in that very moment that I began feeling the plethora of emotions I’d been suppressing behind a fraudulent smile to protect not only myself, but my children especially, from the wreckage to come when I finally started letting it all go.

The Lion. Just look at him lying there slain inside that wall. A beast of many burdens, lifeless and alone with only the precious secrets he’d been carrying within his heart. Weak and weary. Tired and spent. Worn out, solemn and vacant. Life had its way with him and now he’s but a corpse of some unknown past he’d once lived, the demons that had devoured him and the countless private dreams he’d dreamt that never were to be. Despite his years of his perceived magnificence, he is, ”no longer”. Connecting with him in that one still moment screamed to me in ways and volumes that I have yet been able to fathom, but what I can tell you this. That was indeed the turning point when I truly began to “feel” the pain from the broken, jagged pieces that had been cutting me within all the while. Both my stomach and my heart were aching so badly that I literally couldn’t breathe. But to be very honest, it was without question one of THE most beautiful moments of my life.

The Lion is me. And he’s my husband. He is any and everyone who is now or has ever had the daunting task of wandering lost inside their own lonely head and heart just waiting for the day that they’re finally allowed to die. So, with that, as I finish this post, I think that I’ve made a decision: Someday, I will go on to Lucerne and offer some of his ashes to that pond beneath my Lion. It’s what I need to do.

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SEPTEMBER 12, 2019: “The Power Of Tribal Abandonment” …

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So, you’re wondering …

“HOW’S GIA?”

Well, I’m sitting in front of her new school waiting for her to come out, and if today is anything like the first three days this week, she’ll have a smile on her face from ear to ear. For the record, the entrance ramp you see in the picture is the same one Zack traversed when he too went to Bowman! The little house he grew up in is just beyond the park in my rearview mirror, and as I sit here, I can see the faint traces of the younger him barreling out those doors headed straight for that park. A sweet, blonde-haired, blue-eyed boy lost deep in a world of solitude, ever so unaware that the feet that were carrying him were already set upon a dark and broken path of “left solely to his own defenses”. But I digress.

Despite the nine plus years we had him “healthy, happy and somewhat whole”, Zack’s spiral descent truly began here at Bowman two years ago when we were searching for proof he’d existed on paper as a child so as to finally get him a birth certificate and passport to travel abroad.

THIS PLACE.

Sitting in the very office where Gia and I sat last Friday to “fake enroll her” (with the intention of online school to finish her 8th grade year) was where Zack and I sat waiting to find that, no there was no record of him there. And although we were lucky to find two pictures of him later that day at Memorial Elementary, the brutal reality burned like salt on his soul. But still, the irony. The very place he began falling apart as an adult is where she is coming together as a child. We didn’t choose Bowman intentionally. It just happens that this is the Plano ISD middle school our address feeds to. It was mere coincidence. Or was it? He’s with her here now, I just know it!

Gia’s decision to leave St. Marks wasn’t difficult. It wasn’t the school itself; it’s a great school and I’m proud that both my kids have that legacy. And although I won’t go into the dramatics of it all because honestly, THAT STORY will be an entire chapter to itself, let me say this: The particular class she was with year after year (most notably, the girls) bears the distinction as having one the cruelest lot of mean kids in the school’s history. To make matters worse, “real dad” began dating the mother of her best friend, both of whom embarked upon a campaign to literally destroy both mine and Gia’s reputations through words and deeds tantamount only to assault: Bullying, belittling, degrading, ostracizing and isolating, controlling, threatening, manipulating and even blackmailing and slander. Indeed it’s true. “Real dad” is still dating this woman despite the trauma she and her spawn bestowed upon my daughter, but again, I digress.

Gia spent the last five years feeling so alone on that campus, hard pressed to find but a handful of real friends. For the most part, her “friends” saw her as a revolving door, taking or leaving her to best suit their own social needs, such that through it all, on her birthday this year? She was checking her phone every ten minutes to see if any of “her people remembered the day she was born (much like every October 5th when Zack would check his phone every ten minutes to see if any of his people remembered him).

Before he killed himself and hurt her VERY BADLY, she was already in such a damaged and fragile state there are no words. Her “tribe”? Those girls she stood by loyally and faithfully, never fail? The ones she always showed up for? Stood up for? Stood behind? The ones whose lockers she made sure were jam packed with treats on their special days? They showed her just what she meant to them on July 18th: NOTHING! No texts. No calls. No cards. NO. THING! Then on the first day of school this year? She cried her fucking eyes out when she got in the car. “Still nothing mom.” You see, she’d decided to err towards the benefit of doubt: “Well, it was summer, maybe that’s why they forgot. Surely they’ll say happy belated birthday when they see me on the first day of school?” You haven’t LIVED until you’ve seen such a beautiful face and equally beautifully heart reduced to such pain at the hands of the people she thought she mattered to. After all they KNEW she’d already been through and after ALL the storms she weathered for and with them? They threw her away like yesterday’s trash and shattered her glass heart into pieces. So, when she was finally released from the hospital and the school decision had to be made, there was NO doubt in her mind:

Mom, I don’t belong there anymore and you know it. Please don’t make me go back.

So today I just know she’ll be coming out of that school with a smile! SHE LOVES IT HERE! It’s only been three days, and she’s had offers to sit at seven lunch tables. SHE HAS FRIENDS! I. Just. Can’t. I’m telling you people … HE’S WITH HER IN THOSE HALLWAYS, I can feel it in my soul!

PS:

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TO HER “TRIBE” AND THE “TREES THAT THE APPLES FELL FROM” MOTHERS: NONE of you was EVER good enough for her, and thank GOD she finally saw it, because QUEENS DON’T TAKE SHIT OR SCRAPS FROM ANYONE! I’d say I’m sorry that her overwhelming shadow kept the light off your bottom-feeder daughter’s little faces, but yah, maybe not so much. And while we’ve both forgiven you for everything you put her through, NEVER shall we forget! I promise we won’t both be laughing from her perch at the top of EVERYTHING as you desperately flail around on the surface-level ground you will remain on as you’re looking up at my daughter’s presence and choking on THIS truth: Lions don’t concern themselves with the opinions of the sheep.

Baaaaaaaaaaa.

AUGUST 28, 2019: “Farewell, Godspeed, And Goodbye” …

Godspeed

In Tribute To

ZACHARIAH LUCAS WILLIAMSON

David Bishop:

Rick Scauzillo:

Catherine Williamson:

David Bishop:

us

TO LEARN MORE ABOUT THE LIFELONG AND OFTEN IRREVERSIBLE EFFECTS OF BOTH MATERNAL AND FAMILIAL ABANDONMENT:

Abandoned Child Syndrome

Effects Of Maternal Abandonment On Men

When Mothers Leave

The Abandoned Child In Adulthood

Sibling Abuse Is A Real Thing

Neglectful Parents And Older Siblings

What Happens To Sons Of Unloving Mothers

Understanding The Pain of Abandonment

AUGUST 22, 2019 (Quarter ‘Til Midnight): “Dear Agony” …

"And Then It Was Done"
~ by The Phoenix Collaborative Project ~

DEAR AGONY …

I have nothing left to give. I have found the perfect end. You were made to make it hurt. Disappear into the dirt. Carry me to heaven’s arms. Light the way and let me go. Take the time to take my breath. I will end where I began. And I will find the enemy within ’cause I can feel it crawl beneath my skin. Dear Agony: Just let go of me. Suffer slowly. Is this the way it’s got to be? Dear Agony. Suddenly the lights go out. Let forever drag me down. I will fight for one last breath. I will fight until the end. And I will find the enemy within ’cause I can feel it crawl beneath my skin. Dear Agony: Just let go of me. Suffer slowly. Is this the way it’s got to be? Don’t bury me faceless enemy. I’m so sorry. Is this the way it’s gotta be? Dear Agony: Leave me alone. God let me go. I’m blue and cold. Black sky will burn. Love pull me down. Hate lift me up. Just turn around. There’s nothing left. Somewhere far beyond this world. I feel nothing anymore.

~ Breaking Benjamin

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Although his death certificate says “FOUND AUGUST 23, 2019”, I “felt him leave” at just before midnight on August 22, 2019, when in that moment I became physically ill with a sharp pain in my stomach, and literally could not breathe. When the police notified me the next morning that they had found his body at 8:30am, he confirmed that my physical manifestation of his death the prior night was indeed correct: The coroner estimated that he’d been dead approximately 8 to 10 hours.

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AUGUST 22, 2019 (Sometime Between 8PM And 11:30): “He Refused” …

I REFUSE

I don’t wanna die alone. I don’t wanna live forsaken. I refuse to let this go. Because my soul is breaking. I don’t wanna let you know that my heart is just so jaded. I refuse to let it show. I refuse to let it go. Wake me up when this is over. I’m tired of living life like it’s a dream. Please wake me up when it’s all over. I’m tired of living right here in between I refuse. I’ve always walked alone. I chose the path less taken. I refuse to let you win. Life’s a bitch and I’ve been shaken. It’s not a joke at all. Inside my spirits fading. I refuse to take the fall ’cause no one cares at all. Wake me up when this is over. I’m tired of living life like it’s a dream. Please wake me up when it’s all over. I’m tired of living right here in between. I refuse. ‘Cause at the end of the day I’m not you. I refuse. Wake me up when this is over. I’m tired of living life like it’s a dream. Please wake me up when it’s all over. I’m tired of living right here in between. Wake me up when this is over. I’m tired of living life like it’s a dream. Please wake me up when it’s all over. I’m tired of living right here in between. {Five Finger Death Punch}

Zack

AUGUST 8, 2019: “Until The Day He Died” …

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As you can see, I am desperately trying to be as transparent as possible as I journey through this nightmare I’m living out loud, as I refuse to sit back and let the broken roads each member of this family have traveled thus far have been in vain. My story? HIS story? Gia’s? My son’s? They WILL have made a difference somehow in the life of least one other broken human soul that is lingering in this world somewhere if it takes my own last dying breath to do it. People. Matter.

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I have often likened Zack’s personality to that of Robin Williams, one of my favorite comedic actors and icons. Like Robin, my husband was so much larger than life itself. Always smiling. Always positive. Always the biggest presence in the room! He couldn’t stand to see anyone sad, so, he would make us laugh until our effing sides hurt. Yes, he was the biggest clown I’ve ever met! At the same time though, he was “all in serious” about everything he tackled in life, and as witty as he could be, his timing was always perfect. With him? There was a time to laugh, a time to cry, a time to play, a time to dig in deep and get to work, but always a time to just “Good Morning Vietnam” it! 

Thursday, August 8th, 2019, things truly seemed to be looking up. It was Zack’s day off, but we’d decided to split for the afternoon so that I could take Gia for school shopping and lunch while he went and ran some errands of his own. When he walked out the door he seemed to be in genuinely good spirits, and as you can see from our credit card statement, we’d had a productive day. Me? Shopping. Having lunch with our daughter. Living life in the moment and excited for the double date later that night with our sweethearts. We were happy. We had a family. We had a home. We had a king waiting for us back at that home who loved us more than words could say. He was our everything. HE WAS OUR ROCK!

But what about him that day? What DON’T we see in this picture of him smiling at Pinstack? “Our rock” was crumbling right before our eyes and had already made the decision to end his life. The charge you see at “CAB STORE ALLEN”? While Gia and I were eating lunch, he was at Cabella’s buying the Springfield he put to his head 14 days later.

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So, there you have it. What you see hiding behind another one’s smile isn’t always joy, peace and happiness and these two pictures are a sobering example of this truth. Although we knew he was struggling, no one knew JUST how close to the end of the story he really was. He was dying a slow, painful, agonizing death within the confines of his mind … we just couldn’t see it. He tried not to fall, trust me when I say this, and I’m sorry, not sorry, if this post upsets anyone because perhaps it’s “too transparent”. But there’s a poignant statement being made in these pictures that I felt was too important not to share. “The saddest people always try their hardest to make people happy. Because they know what it’s like to feel absolutely worthless and they don’t want anybody else to feel like that”.

UNTIL THE DAY I DIE

The waters rise. The light declines. But I’m not turning back from here. Voices are crying. Corpses remind that most don’t make it to the end. Look to the sky. Take back what’s mine. This life can be a cemetery. This life can be a shallow grave. I’ll never be a casualty. I’ll never bow before I break. I’ll stand and fight. Until the day I die. I left the known to walk alone ’cause to remain was suicide. The “could’ve been”. Stood up again ’cause not to try was just to die. Maybe I’m wrong. But it’s my right. I’ll face the night. I’ll find the light. Look to the sky. Take back what’s mine. I’ll stand and fight. Until the day I die.” {Like A Storm}

JUNE 5, 2014: “Thank You For Loving Me” …

… that moment it was your first official day out of the house after a helpless fourteen straight days in bed and you’re now on a date with your Husband, who after having spent that same fourteen days trying to do EVERY single thing you usually do as a working wife and mother grabs your hands, looks you straight in the eyes and says:

Honey, I just wanted to say thank you! This last 14 days have opened my eyes and I have so much more appreciation for all the things you do to make all our lives happen yet make it look effortless. Now I understand who you are as a woman even more than I already thought I did. I honestly didn’t “get it” until now. I love you Catherine Williamson. Thank you for being my wife!

… then you fall back in love with him all over again and can’t even believe just how much you’ve been needing to have exact validation for going on 22 years. No, I love YOU Zachariah Lucas Williamson … and I thank God for you Every. Single. Day!

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