My Letter of Heartache to the Judge

Okay so I was hesitant to post this because the emtion is so raw, but then I decided I wanted to be part of my record or journal ... so here it is. I have edited some of the context that I felt was too detailed. I will warn you that it is very sad .... kinda like the whole story, I guess.

To Whom It May Concern:
As you may imagine, this is a very difficult letter to write. My mind is racing and my heart is pounding. I want to do my mom justice by accurately and sufficiently describing who she was and how terrible life has been without her—the emotions run so deep, it seems impossible to articulate with only words. I will begin by telling you about her.

My mother learned many lessons in life that she used to refine herself and make herself better.
• She experienced the pain of loss at the young age of 7 when her mother died from cancer.
• She experienced the difficulties of blending families when her father remarried and she went from being an only child to having 3 sisters and 2 brothers.
• She experienced the heartache of divorce and single parenting.
• She endured the challenge of caring for a spouse with illness and watching him die before her eyes.
• She understood the difficulty of financially supporting a family.
• She experienced life as a widow and yet again as a single parent.
• She continued her education while working and tending to the needs of her children who were struggling from the loss of their father.
• She overcame the fear of Corporate America and went back to work in a business environment. • She worked her was up and excelled as a paralegal.
• She successfully raised 4 children.
• She had to fight for her life and overcame breast cancer.

Through those experiences, she developed a tolerance and compassion for others. She had genuine concern for others’ wellbeing and sought to make their life easier through random acts of kindness. All that met her said that they felt loved by her. That is because she did love them. Genuinely and sincerely, she sought to love all she came in contact with. This love made others feel like they were important, despite their shortcomings. She was someone who put effort into relating to everyone. She was without judgment and strived to lift others burdens. She was a woman of faith, integrity and honor. She was respectable and respected. She was generous with her time and her resources. I often marveled at her example of obedience and charity towards others and strive to follow her footsteps.

My relationship with my mother was the deepest emotional relationship in my life, with the greatest level of trust and acceptance. When my father passed away from illness in 1991, I was 13 years old. My mother was all I had left and I clung to her. She absorbed my hurt and my pain. When dad died, times were tough, but together we struggled through them and I quickly learned that with her I could overcome any of life’s difficulties. I had complete and total trust 1) that she would always be there to help me and 2) that I could confide in her with my deepest darkest pain and/or mistakes. She truly demonstrated unconditional love. There were times in my life that I did things that upset her or caused her to be disappointed with me. I was ashamed of myself and felt so unlovable. Yet despite her disappointment with my choices, she showed me love and helped me find my way through my mistakes. That love encouraged me to fight to overcome my challenges and become someone better. As a small child, my parents continuously taught me and my siblings that we were amazing, capable individuals. They emphasized to us that we could literally accomplish anything we put our minds to. These lessons continued throughout my life until I ultimately believed in myself. I had confidence that anything was attainable, because whether I succeed or failed, mom would love me anyway; her love was not conditional only to my successes. Through the difficulties of life, we became great friends. We enjoyed spending time together and I valued her opinion and judgment.

In the spring of 2006, my mother and I made some financial investments and separately purchased homes on the same street. We lived in a cul-de-sac, her house being across the street and 3 houses down from ours. My children absolutely adored their grandma and having her so close was very exciting. I have 4 children and I can remember early one Saturday morning I was up feeding my infant son when I could hear my two older sons (ages 3 & 2) talking to each other, muttering something about grandma’s house. I heard them talking as they were walking down the stairs then the sound kind of trailed off. Wondering what they were up to and knowing that silence was never a good sign, I got up, put down my infant son, and began a search for them that discovered the front door wide open with their blankets just lying on the floor. Totally panicked, I scream for my husband, ran outside and began frantically calling for them but they were no where to be found. So I ran inside the house grabbed the phone and called mom. When she answered, in my frazzled state, I questioned whether she had seen them, she calmly responded “Oh yes, they’re here, we are making breakfast.” What! I then explained that they did not have permission to leave, that they had snuck out and that they needed to come home immediately. To which, she responded, as only a grandma could, “Well, can they finish their eggs” …. I laughed and said no mom they are in big trouble they must come home right now. Reluctantly, she sent them home. Being so young, they really didn’t understand the harm, they just wanted to see their grandma. Because we lived so close to each other, we were blessed to see her everyday, if only briefly.

Life was safe until that December night when I received a phone call from my husband that forever changed me. I was at a Christmas program with my sister and some other friends and family. It was a tradition that we attended every year. Mom usually went as well, but this year she was tired and run down from all that she was doing so she decided not to attend. My husband was home with our children when he received a knock on the door from an officer that had come to deliver the news to my mother’s husband, Bruce. Confused and in shock, Bruce brought the officer to our house to explain to my husband what had happened. I received a call from him shortly thereafter in which he gently tried to explain to me that my mother had been killed! I was standing in the hallway of the auditorium screaming, “Please no! Please tell me it’s not true!” Each time my husband would respond with “I’m so sorry baby! I wish it weren’t!” Ultimately, I just collapsed to the floor, sobbing and crying out. The program ended and the halls were filled with people. It is so tremendously painful to recall the shock and horror of getting the devastating news. I then proceeded to deliver the news to my sister who was at the program with me. Unable to reach my brothers by phone, someone drove me to their homes where each time I had to share the heartbreaking news that our beloved mother had been killed.

Together we drove to the hospital and met my husband and Bruce. Although she had already passed, we were able to see her body and say goodbye. I still am unable to speak of this without totally breaking down…Emotionally, mentally and spiritually, I died that night with her. The months that have followed have consisted of unspeakable pain as I have tried to accept her death and figure how I am supposed to live without her. Physically, I have wanted to die 1) to escape the suffering and 2) to be with her. The sorrow and agony at the thought of living the remainder of my life without her is still unbearable. I do not know how to live without her. I have required so much help to care for me and the needs of my children. I am lost; the pain engulfs me. I can’t see through it or around it. I can’t eat or sleep; I have lost 20 pounds and am still losing. Most nights, I require medication to sleep; if I don’t take something, I frequently wake in the middle of the night and just sit and stare, desperately trying to gain some greater understanding, meaning or purpose that will help me accept this.

I am also mourning the loss of me. I am not the person I used to be without her. I am now under the care of a physician and a therapist and am on antidepressants. Everyday I fight despair. I have anxiety in groups. I am unable to socialize with friends. I have been unable to offer help or service to anyone in my family or community. I am a shell of the person I once was. The pain takes my breath away. Most times, I cry so uncontrollably I feel as though I am going to hyperventilate, so I hold my breath to try and gain my composure, while pleading with God for help. I am frequently told that “time will heal” but I disagree. Healing by definition means to get better, to return to health, to cure. I believe that time will just give me the opportunity to change and make the necessary adjustments to learn how to live without her. I will always ache for her in my life.

She was a silent source of strength in my life; her existence offered me security and comfort. Her continuous love charged me with confidence. She made me who I was. I didn’t worry about how I would cross the roads ahead because, if it became too difficult, I knew (from years of experience) that mom would be there at just the right moment to help carry the load or cheer me on. Her goodness somehow shielded me from the darkness and evils that exist in the world; she was my buffer. The earth was literally a better place because of her. She shared my greatest joys and my deepest sorrows. She attended the birth of every one of my children. When my youngest son, Ammon, was born, the side effects of the medication I was given caused my legs to feel restless. The only relief was when someone was rubbing them, so for 5 minutes my husband would rub them and then for 25 minutes my mother would rub them. This went on throughout my entire labor until I delivered. That’s how she was with everything. There was always safety with mom. Now safety as I previously knew it is gone and I must redefine where safety exists. It’s easy to say, well your spouse is safe, but really? Really? Because spouses leave, after years and years of marriage, some spouses decide they’re done and leave. If my spouse is unhappy with me or the life that he shares with me, he has the option of leaving; moms don’t leave, not my mom, even when or if I made her unhappy, she would never, never leave. So then, where is safety? Now I should say that I feel as though I have a great marriage with my spouse. That being said, the above still exists.

Already, there have been many milestones in my children’s lives that we did not get to share with her. My youngest Ammon, now 10 months old, is crawling and climbing the stairs. He has grown lots of curly hair. My 2 year old son, Jacob, has been potty trained! Noah, our oldest son (3 years old) has stopped sucking his thumb, which he has done since birth. And my oldest daughter, Lacey, turned 8 years old and was baptized. These are all moments that mom would have been a part of. The children have also felt this loss. My younger children do not understand the magnitude, they simply insist upon going to her house like they used to. It has been heartbreaking to try and explain to them that she is no longer there and is never coming home. Lacey is old enough to understand the concept of death and has struggled to understand why it had to be her grandma. She frequently spent time at mom’s house studying for spelling tests and/or watching Wheel of Fortune with her. As a mother, I don’t know how to comfort her, when I share all of the same questions. Watching my children struggle and suffer has also been so very difficult.

We, her family, seek some form of justice. This was so much more than a mistake or an accident. The defendant admitted, at the scene, that he had been drinking and would not have driven if his son was in the car. So, 1) he recognized that he was a danger and 2) he valued the life of his son but not the life of my mother. Even after he made the choice to drive, he had multiple opportunities to recognize the level of his intoxication and STOP! He forced numerous others off the road from head on collisions and was being followed by an eye witness that had called 911. Prior to hitting mom he had driven up and on the curb several times. My mother was defenseless. She was traveling through a construction zone and forced to travel on the opposite side of the street with only barricades dividing oncoming traffic. The defendant was traveling at a high rate of speed through the construction zone, on and off the curb when he slammed into her. Yes, her injuries were fatal. But it should also be noted that the trauma to her body was extensive! True justice would be for him to suffer how we have suffered so that he could truly understand the consequences of his reckless and careless choices. While I know that this true justice will not come in this life, I feel as though the maximum sentence of 14 years should be ordered.

Thank you for your time and compassion.
Solemnly,
Angel Kriser