At the time my son died I was still working on getting my life after divorce on track. This did not help. At the time I had just started at State University. I continued going to class. I continued working. But going to work and dealing with the public was just too much for me to handle. I went out on partial disability from my job. But I continued school. I didn’t take a full load, but dropped a class. It kept me going. Having a goal. The three daughters remaining struggled along. I changed their school. But they didn’t adjust and returned to school in the community. I had wanted them to be away from everything where their brother died.
My oldest daughter went to live with her father. I think. To tell you the truth I am not sure. Everything was in a fog. She has never spoken about her brother and didn’t allow me to speak of him either. I remember driving to class and being almost transported. I should have told my professors what had happened. Because my grades tanked. It’s just a blurr. I had no family in California. My parents had both passed away in my twenties. I was an only child. My sons friends were there for us. Especially his best friend since he was four years old. That was comforting. So it was a pretty lonely road.
They arrested the man who murdered my son. There was a trial. He was convicted of second degree murder and given 27 years to life. We all attended the trial. My oldest daughter needed to testify. The judge had to clear the court of the gang bangers because they were yelling at my sons girlfriend calling her a bitch. I lost it and had our DA have the judge ban them from the trial. I don’t even remember what the murderer looked like. We all gave our victim impact statements. He was gone. Things were pretty rough financially. The victims fund payed for my sons funeral. They also would pay for counseling. The girls didnt want to go. I went to the psychiatrist and had anti depressants prescribed. I didn’t get counseling. I don’t know why. My aunt died six months later and we all flew to New York. We stayed at her house in the Bronx and got to see my cousins and my children’s fathers family. She left us money from insurance her sale of the house and bank accounts. Which helped our financial situation. But our psychological situation was dire. I had been pretty alone after the divorce and trying to get on my feet. I wasn’t working when I divorced. The twins were only one and a half when I left and then my father died. He left me house.insurance etc and I lived in his 2 bedroom home in the country 50 miles outside of NYC. I stayed with the kids for six months but decided it would be brutal in the winter and would have to build on to accommodate six people. So I left and returned to our home in San Diego. I rented out his house. By now the twins were three and Megan the middle was four. My oldest Jerry was ten and my oldest daughter Claire was eight.
Not all doom and gloom. Actually at my oldest daughter’s hometown with my two grandchildren.