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Forgiving is One, Forgetting is Another
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I have never willingly traveled back into past events in my life due in part to the immense amount of suffering it causes to my spirit and soul. To be hurt such as I was, to have to face the pain again and bring up bad memories is something so many of us shy away from. However, I also realize it can bring healing and peace to a certain extent.
My mom at fifty two years of age became a widow six month earlier,and lived in a rural area. On December 14, my husband and I decided to drive to her place and visit before Christmas. Our son was six years old at the time. It was about a two hour drive for us, and we were very excited to surprise her this Sunday morning.
We drove straight through bubbling with excitement over showing up at the farm so early in the morning. It must have been around 7a.m. When we rounded the bend and started up the gravel road towards home. I remember looking out my window just waiting for a glimpse of the house. My son was in the back seat happily watching the scenery pass by, while playing with his toy tractors on the car seat.
I glanced up and saw approximately five squad cars with red and blue lights flashing round and round in the driveway at the front of the house. I also noticed bright yellow tape strung from one old oak to another spelling out the words, " Do not cross".' crime scene".
Sitting up straighter in the car so I could actually see better my eyes fell on the double patio windows that lead out to the front lawn. The windows were shattered. With glass laying in pieces all over the ground. The squad cars had no one in them, just sitting there empty, with their lights continuing to flash, first red then blue, time and time again..My mouth felt as dry as baked clay, and I could not breathe. I looked over at my husband who was also at a loss for words, just staring out the car windows at total devastation.
As I opened the car door, I heard my husband tell our son to stay in the car. I heard the car keys jangle as he put them in his pocket and then his own door close ever so softly. Coming up beside me, he held my hand in his and we both walked slowly up the sidewalk. Stepping around shards of broken glass, I could hear the small crunch of the smaller pieces underneath my shoes.
As I leaned down to go under the yellow tape, my husband reached out to lift the yellow ribbon barrier up. A policeman came running up behind my husband shoving him against the wooden fence with the force of his impact. Twisting my husbands arms up behind his back my husband was yelling back at the policeman. My attention was riveted on the front door which was left open. I proceeded inside, ignoring the policeman and my husbands heated interchange of words.
Mass confusion seemed to be the order of the day as my eyes adjusted to the interior of my moms living room. Several policemen were milling around, and I saw four or five people in suits and ties just standing talking. As I entered over the threshold...
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