27 Years... Another Letter

Tomorrow is the 27th anniversary of my mom being murdered. I was so proud of myself--I thought this year I would make it through mostly okay. And then I stopped by the post office today on my way home from work...  

First, I pulled out a notice from Guidepost that my gift subscription expired. My Grandma got a gift subscription to Guidepost every year, faithfully, for each of her grandchildren (and probably for everyone on her Christmas list). It didn't matter if we read them or not--it didn't matter what our spiritual inclinations might be--she held onto hope. More than anything, she wanted everyone in her life to "find Jesus" and follow the path of Christianity. I remember how hard she prayed for Grandpa to eventually find that path and how much that meant to her. It meant the same to her for all of her loved ones to be saved as she had. It was a hard reminder that she is gone. It hasn't even been a month yet since she died.

I am sure Guidepost will send these notices for the remainder of my life in hopes that I will send them money. This weekend, I shall be writing to them and asking them to please stop--I do not need regular reminders that my Grandmother is no longer here and that's what this sort of mail becomes. A trigger. A reminder that your loved one is gone and that everything is different now. Notices from Guidepost will just be random hurts that I wish to avoid.

The only other piece of mail addressed to me? CALIFORNIA DEPARTMENT OF CORRECTIONS AND REHABILITATION Board of Parole Hearings... I hate to say it, but I prayed it would be a notice that he is deceased.  I always have them opened before I even make it back to my vehicle--I am just grateful I picked up the mail after work today, instead of before.  Instant hysterical sobs and a complete break-down in the post office parking lot.  I screamed repeatedly on my drive home, trying to navigate through the school dismissal and rush hour traffic while sobbing uncontrollably.  Maybe it would have been safer to stay in the post office parking lot, but I was too embarrassed--ugly crying at home is bad enough.  In public, during daylight hours?  No thanks.   I had a hard enough time driving home--going to work and functioning after opening that piece of mail would have been more than a bit problematic. The days in this week already weigh heavily on me and challenge my functioning. I do not need threats of him being released added to the fun, yet here we are. Again.

Mother's Day 2018 (May 13, 2018). The 26th anniversary of her death--January 10, 2019. And now again, January 10, 2020--the 27th anniversary of her death. I sit and write letters to keep her murderer in jail. Each year, the hardest days--those are the ones they choose to do this. Does he choose these dates? Is it someone in their office? Every year... That's when we are forced to write our letters to keep him behind bars--Mother's Day?  The anniversary of her death?  Seriously--that is so messed up. I just want it to stop... When will our rights finally supersede her murderer's rights?