To Serve and Protect

As Americans we are raised to believe that this creed is the most basic principal of those who serve in law enforcement.  It is simply a patriotic truth that speaks to our core. 

My family was not protected and service was not afforded to us.  THAT DAY should have never happened and there is a tragic backstory.  

Gabe had a history of mental illness.  He had been hospitalized numerous times both voluntarily and involuntarily.  He was on a great deal of medication and was very public about the drugs he was taking, his therapy sessions and his battles with depression. 

Gabe also had a very extensive gun collection and took advantage of showing this off to everyone who set foot in our home.  He was proud of his collection and occasionally liked to target shoot on our property.  This often didn’t bode well with our neighbors and on more than one occasion was paid a complimentary visit by our local sheriff.

In the fall of 2009, Gabe’s mental state significantly deteriorated – so much so that for the first time in a 21+ year marriage, I felt in danger.  Approximately two months before THAT DAY, Gabe was physical with me and our oldest son had to intervene.  I filed a police report and Gabe was arrested.  I requested and was awarded and Emergency Order of Protection.   I then called the Champaign County Sheriff and begged for assistance in removing the guns from our marital home.  After all, an Order of Protection is nothing more than a piece of paper and if my husband was enraged enough, he could have / would have ignored this and come to our property which literally contained a full blown arsenal.

The Champaign County Sheriff refused my request so I went a step up and contacted the Illinois State Police.  They confirmed that Gabe was labeled a “mental prohibitor” and did not have a valid Firearms Owner Identification Card, also known as a FOID card.  They also determined that Gabe had applied for a FOID card under various mutations of his last name and was repeatedly denied.  It was unlawful for Gabe to have access to any firearms let alone have any in his possession and this is an irrefutable fact.  Nevertheless, the county and the state turned their back on us by refusing after repeated requests to deal with the situation.

Two months later my husband was dead, I was fighting for my life and my children were traumatized beyond belief.

I have shared this to many and most react in disbelief and find it incomprehensible that law enforcement agencies did not assist us.  I have several theories as to why but will refrain from speculation due to pending litigation.  Whatever the reason, the bottom line is that laws were being broken, I alerted authorities, I reached out for help and I was denied on numerous occasions.

My story is not about the second amendment.  Irrespective of our own personal and political beliefs, I think we can all unite in agreeing that mentally unstable people should not have guns.  And furthermore, as we embark on the upcoming election cycle we are going to hear numerous politicians pontificating about whether or not Americans should be allowed to bear arms.  This my friends, is just clouding the issue.  You see, we already have plenty of laws already voted into place.  If however, we can’t hold law enforcement accountable for following through and upholding the law, then what good does more legislation do. 

The following article appeared on the front page of our local paper last week.  It speaks volumes.  Please take the time to read it.  It serves as shocking validation with respect to what happened to me.

http://www.news-gazette.com/news/courts-police-and-fire/2012-04-05/audit-gun-program-limited-protecting-safety.html

Two Years and Counting – Upwards that is . . .

When Gabe died, numerous people came up to me and said that the first two years would be the hardest.  I wanted to defy them and mentally recover from the tragedy must quicker.  Two years seemed like an eternity to me especially since every day seemed like it was filled with one hundred hours instead of twenty-four.  In the first several months, I would try to sleep as much as possible as I felt that sleeping made time pass by faster and this might expedite the process of grieving and recovery.

My measuring stick was the number of good days versus the number of bad days.  I remember keeping a mental log of my “turn around” time each time I would crash to convince myself that I was actually getting better.   It took me a long time to laugh authentically.  Yes, I would laugh and feign happiness for the people around me but it was a show.   And for some reason, I thought that if I “faked it” enough then it might eventually become real.   I struggled to find the joy that one feels in their core.  My daily routine and my basis for existence became one of throwing myself into work and to try my best to salvage my late husband’s estate.  My personal mantra was that of “live to fight another day.”

February 27, 2012 finally arrived – the two year anniversary of THAT DAY.  I thought that I would be filled with sadness and grief.  The exact opposite was true.   For the first time in a long time, I felt as if a burden had been lifted.  I made it and I was a survivor.  Things were going to be okay and I actually believed it. 

Each and every day since then, I seem to be able to have a better perspective of what my future and the future of my children is going to be.  An internal transformation has taken place and this is a true blessing.    Whereas I used to be filled with insecurity and panic, I now feel energized by the endless possibilities of what my future might entail. 

I am so thankful for a second chance; I treasure my friends and family in a way that I can’t even begin to articulate; I am blessed and I know it.   I try very hard to ignore the “small stuff” and to embrace the positives in my life.  I have a purpose in life in that I will continually fight for changes in our society that will hopefully prevent my story from happening again.   

This being said, I don’t want to ever forget.  Whereas it is important that we file away the bad, we must never completely throw it away.  Every so often, it is important to retrieve those difficult memories and to reflect on our own personal history even if for nothing more than to have a “reality check” and to give ourselves a “fist bump” for recognizing how far we have come.

And this, my friends is why I made the decision to write this blog.  “Transcending Tragedy” is how I have decided to define my life.  We all make choices in life and we can all be proactive regarding the mindset with which we move forward in life – no matter what obstacles we face.