January 17 2014

"Hello?"
"Mrs. Gasway"
"Yes"
The voice on the other line is Mom's social worker, but something is wrong.  Her stoic voice is unsteady.  My stomach knots.
"Js mom is dead."
Silence.  No air.  Drowning.
"I am sorry, what?"
"She was murdered.  This morning."
I gasp for air, "WHAT!"
Her voice softens.  "They found her body this morning near the base."
The house suddenly feels incredibly empty and impossibly quiet.  I begin to cry.
"I am sorry.  I just am having a hard time processing this."  The boys look at me curiously and concerned. 
"Mom, what's going on.  Is dad okay?"  I wave at them to be quiet.  This makes them even more worried.
"I never in a million years thought this would happen to her.  Why her!?"  and the flood gates open and I begin to weep, big heaving, air gulping, embarrassing cries.   I think about J.  How horrible this is for him.  Even if he doesn't understand yet, he will some day.  There is silence on the other end, and the I can feel that worker is bewildered by my reaction.  She doesn't understand that I loved his mom, just as I love him. 
"Me either Mrs. Gasway.  It is terrible."
I suddenly feel aware of my nakedness and just want to end this conversation, "well thank you for calling me."
"You are welcome.  I am sorry."
"Me too.  I will talk to you later.  I need to hang up.  I am very upset."  I can't stop thinking about her last moments.  She must've felt so alone.  She must've thought of her children.  She must've worried about their futures. 
"I understand."
"good bye"
"bye"
I hang up and explain what has happened to the boys.  The first thing they want to do go upstairs, wake J up and hug him.  I say okay, even though I know it's more for them than for J. 

We hug him.  The boys and I sleep together all in one room.   I send Casey several messages hoping he will answer.  I want him here with me RIGHT NOW, and not half a world away.  There are so many things I wanted to ask her.  I had always hoped that she and J would someday be able to have a relationship.  Every child wants to know the woman that gave them life, even if they aren't raised by her.  I mourn the fact that he will never get that.  I mourn his loss and worry about the impact it will have on him when he is old enough to understand.  I can never replace her for him.  I can love him with all my mother's love, but he will still long for her.  All adopted children long for the woman that gave them life, even if only to look into the eyes that look like their own.  He does look like her.  He will only know her in pictures and this makes me very sad.  I can't stop thinking, my mind is so loud and only my husband knows how to quiet it.  Exhausted.

At 2am he finally calls, my sweet husband.  He talks to me away from the edge of an exhausted anxiety induced break-down.  At 5:30 he demands I call someone to come and help.  I am slurring my words in my emotional and physical exhaustion he says.  I don't hear it.  I refuse.  He tells me to sleep, but the kids are about to wake up.  He asks to speak to Cooper. Alone.  I overhear him telling Cooper to take charge until someone else gets there to help.  I am offended.  I think I am stronger than I am.  He asks one of the soldiers to call his wife and send her over.  It is 6:30 when she arrives unexpectedly.  My husband knew I would refuse her help.  I don't want anyone to see me like this, but she is sweet and comforting.  I do not feel judged by her.  She let's me sleep and feeds the boys.  She was wonderful.  For the next few days I am afraid to leave the house.  I don't who the killer is.  What if it is the guy from the library?


**I'd find out the day of our March court date that during that last torturous visit she would tell her worker (and later, the grandmother of her oldest children), "He picked that woman.  He loves her.  She is mommy now.  I don't want anyone to take him away from her."  She loved him so much.  She loved him selflessly.