Some people who lose loved ones to gun violence don’t like to use the word “Triggers.”
Of course, I understand why this term is upsetting to them, but that word doesn’t upset me at all. It just makes me want to fight harder for John.
My number one trigger is receiving hearing notices, and I received another one in the mail today.
Because I’m a crime victim, the law requires the courts to notify us by mail of every hearing that takes place in regard to John’s murder case. That means we not only receive hearing notices for Miller the Killer but also the other person who was charged in connection to John’s murder. Their hearings are held separately so that means we have a constant stream of notices delivered to our home.
These hearings aren’t something we need to attend at this time. It’s just the judicial process where the Judge, Prosecutors and Defense Attorneys meet to handle the legal ins and outs of the case which I call ‘legal mumble jumble.’ We’ll be required to be present at these hearings when it gets closer to the trial.
Every time I receive a hearing notice; I’m taken back to that never-ending pounding on our front door in the early hours of July 29th and I hear the detective telling us John had been murdered.
Every time I receive a hearing notice; my son dies all over again.
When your mind is trying to comprehend the massive loss of your child and you have so many things thrown at you at once, you just want to curl up in a ball and cry.
But you can’t because there’s too many things that need to be done especially when your child has been murdered.
In the middle of planning John’s funeral, my cousin told me about the Ohio Victims Crime Compensation Program and said I should file a claim since John was a victim of homicide. She told me to file as soon as possible because she knew we didn’t have the funds to pay for John’s funeral and that’s one of the expenses the fund covers.
I went online and tried to start the claim but wasn’t able to do so.
First, mentally I wasn’t able to do it, and second, I quickly found out it’s a reimbursement type process and not a fund that pays the expenses upfront.
The GoFundMe was taking care of the immediate need for John’s funeral expenses so I set this aside and said I would come back to it at a later time.
Today is the day.
I’m still in the midst of my grief but the claim needs to be filed.
I revisited the site and read the instructions.
Since John was the victim of a homicide, and he wasn’t married, we as his parents are victims too, and as a victim, we’re eligible to receive compensation through the Ohio Victims of Crime Compensation Program which covers several different expenses including:
Funeral and burial expenses
Wages lost due to the crime
Counseling for family members of homicide victims
Travel expenses for family members to attend court
Financial support for dependents of a deceased victim
In order to file a claim, you have to gather documentation to support your claim and go through several different processes.
I sighed and thought, “more crap to add on my plate”
Don’t get me wrong, I’m very grateful the state of Ohio has this program in place. I’m just saying when you’re buried in grief, taking care of business is the last thing you want or feel like doing.
But someone has to do it.
And that someone is me.
My brain can’t fully decipher what I’m reading so I decided to look in the booklet of information I received from the Prosecutors office to see if there was someone I could contact for assistance
I located the phone number for the Ohio Victims of Crime Compensation Program and gave them a call. The woman who answered my call was very nice and gave me a few attorneys to call for assistance.
The first two on the list no longer assist victims with filing claims.
The third one I called was an older gentleman who was very direct.
“Well, you have to truly be a victim of a covered crime in order to file a claim”, he said curtly.
“We are. Our son was murdered.” I replied.
He changed his tone immediately and said he would be happy to help me.
I was told the fund has a limit of $7,500 and things such as funeral expenses, burial expenses (including John’s clothes and grave marker), loss of wages, travel expenses for the family and food would be included. I should gather all receipts and documentation together and email everything to him. He would then file the claim on my behalf. But before doing so, I needed to fill out some paperwork and return it to him.
“What’s your email address”? He asked.
I gave him my email address and he said he would send me the paperwork after we hung up.
I thanked him, said goodbye and waited.
It’s never-ending but I have to do what needs to be done. The money raised from the GoFundMe was used for John’s funeral expenses and I still need to get his grave marker.
I received the email shortly after our conversation. In it, he also said he would need a copy of Johns birth certificate which is something I’ve procrastinated to get.
I guess I have no choice now. While I’m at it, I’ll order John’s autopsy too.
“God,” I prayed, “Please give me the strength to handle all of this and to read his autopsy report when it comes.”
The support I’m receiving from those in my online Facebook group, “Grieving Parents Leaning On Each Other” has been wonderful, so I thought I would try to get some outside in person support as well.
I pulled out the booklet I received from the Prosecutors office a couple weeks after John’s murder, and saw it lists several support groups for grief. The group, ‘Parents of Murdered Children’ caught my eye so I thought I would give them a try.
I sent an email to the coordinator for more information and received a quick reply. I was told the group meets on the last Wednesday of each month and I’m more than welcome to attend tonight. Today just so happens to be “National Day of Remembrance for Murdered Victims’ so I could bring a picture of John with me if I wanted. I grabbed my favorite picture and headed out the door.
When I arrived, I was welcomed with open arms, and everyone was so nice. The problem is, I was very emotional and felt so uncomfortable, not because of those in attendance, but because of me.
The pain is still too deep
Since today is ‘National Day of Remembrance for Murdered Victims’, we were asked to place the pictures of our loved ones on the table and when the time came, we should go up to the picture, say their name and light a candle.
When it was my turn, I went to the table, lit John’s candle, whispered his name and quickly sat down.
I cried so hard; I couldn’t speak for the rest of the night.
When it was over, I grabbed John’s picture from the table and practically ran out the door. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
On the way home I had to pull over a few times because I couldn’t stop crying.
When I walked in the door, Ronnie asked “So, how did it go.”
“Overwhelming and way too much” I said.
He hugged me and said he was sorry.
After the embrace, I went upstairs, washed my face, got in bed and cried myself to sleep.
It angers me to no end what has been taken from us, especially from my adorable granddaughter who has lost her father.
I saw this poem on my Facebook timeline, and it brought comfort to me.
While my granddaughter, Kammy, has the most amazing mom and I thank God for her every day, I have to remember John is always watching over his beautiful daughter no matter where he is.
I’m very grateful for those who have expressed their condolences and continue to check on me. There have also been many that don’t contact me at all.
I received a text from my niece apologizing for not reaching out to me.
I told her, “That’s okay.”
She went on to explain the reason why is because she doesn’t know what to say.
I thanked her for being honest and assured her I understood. “It’s a very difficult topic to approach.”
You see, death alone is hard to discuss. The loss of a child is even harder. But when your child dies as a result of murder, people really don’t know what to say.
They look at me awkwardly and some even look away.
I don’t take offense. People sometimes just don’t know what to say so rather than say something wrong, they don’t say anything at all and that’s okay. What I need is to find somewhere to go where there are parents just like me. Parents who understand the pain I feel and are able to talk about it without the awkwardness that comes along with this topic. At this point, it doesn’t have to be parents who have lost their child to murder. I just want to find somewhere that has parents who have lost a child, period.
No sooner had I thought this, than my prayer was answered.
I frequent the social media platform, X, and was invited by a wonderful, spunky, kindhearted woman named Kaye Steinsapir, to join her private Facebook Group called, Grieving Parents Leaning on Each Other. I joined the group and with my first post I have had such wonderful responses. These parents get it, and it feels so good to communicate with people who know and understand my pain.
Kaye tragically lost her 12-year-old daughter, Molly, due to a bicycle accident in February 2021. She understands my pain and lovingly donated to my GoFundMe which helped me lay John to rest.
This is my first step in reaching out to others for help as I continue to travel on my grief journey and this group is providing the support I desperately need.
If you’ve lost a child, I encourage you to join Grieving Parents Leaning on Each Other on Facebook. Everything shared in the group is strictly confidential.
Kaye has founded a non-profit organization in honor of her beautiful daughter Molly; The Molly Steinsapir Foundation. The Foundation’s purpose is to advance charitable causes that Molly cared deeply about including, among other things, children, animals, and the environment.
Kaye has founded a non-profit organization in honor of her beautiful daughter Molly; The Molly Steinsapir Foundation. The Foundation’s purpose is to advance charitable causes that Molly cared deeply about including, among other things, children, animals, and the environment.
There were no words spoken, just a smile and a wave. His smile was much bigger and brighter than I’ve ever seen before. He was letting me know he’s near and he’s okay.
What I remember most besides his beautiful smile is the look in his eyes, they danced with joy.
I reached out to hug him, but he went away.
It’s okay, I know he’ll visit again. Maybe, next time, he’ll sit down and stay for a while.
He knows I think of him every day and I’m so grateful he let me know he’s doing okay.
This picture is exactly what he looked like in my dream minus the backpack, he looked so happy.
My adorable little John.
I can’t wait to see you again!
My First Visit to John’s Grave
Visiting My Mom
September 6, 2024
I’m beginning to sleep a little better but still head to bed late at night only to toss and turn before finally drifting off to sleep.
John is constantly on my mind but when I woke up today, I couldn’t stop thinking about both John and my mom.
I made a little breakfast and continued to think about them. I had a strong feeling I needed to pay them a little visit today. It will be the first time visiting John’s grave since his burial on August 8th, so I thought to myself, “I can do this. It’s time to sit with John today and stop by to say hi to mommy while I’m there.”
I wanted to get there a little early because it was going to be another hot day. I think it only rained a few times in the past three months, so the grass everywhere outside looks like straw.
After getting dressed I headed to Glen Rest but stopped by Kroger to purchase a few flowers. I cannot go there empty handed, especially to visit my mom.
My mother, Viola, passed away from colon cancer in 1999 at the age of 64. It took us all by surprise because she was so healthy and by the time they discovered it, it had progressed to the advanced stage. I moved into her house to take care of her when the doctor gave us the terminal diagnosis and held her hand when she drew her last breath.
I know every child thinks they have the best mother in the world, but I honestly believe I did. Mommy was everything to me. She was such a kind, caring, loving woman who breathed positivity. She absolutely loved gardening and actually won several awards in the neighborhood contests for best landscaped yard. She lived and breathed her flower garden because she always said she felt closer to God when she tended to it. My older brother, Greg, lived with her for a short while after I married and moved into my own place. Whenever I would call her, and if she were out in her garden, he would say “Hold on, Let me get her. Mom’s outside, playing in the dirt, again.”
That still makes me laugh to this day.
So, I never go to visit Mommy’s grave without bringing flowers to place in her vase.
I arrived at the store, and it took me a while to pick out the right flowers. I have the hardest time making decisions like this. The longer I stood there, the more confused I became and just decided to get a mixture of flowers that wasn’t very expensive. Mommy was also known as “Bargain Betty” and she passed it down to me.
Picking flowers for John wasn’t that difficult. He was a man and not into flowers at all. Plus, his permanent grave marker, which contains a vase, hasn’t been installed yet, so I don’t really have a place to put his flowers. I’ll just prop them up on the temporary marker.
I wanted red carnations, but they didn’t have any, so I ended up finding a small bouquet that appeared to be a light orange in color. There were plenty of pink carnations, but I immediately heard in my head,
“Don’t get me no pink carnations, mom” so I walked right on by them and went to check out.
I arrived at Glen Rest around 10:30 am which is a decent time to still catch a little coolness before the heat turns up after noon.
Mommy’s grave is in the front area of the cemetery, so it made sense to visit her first.
As I approached her grave, I noticed how brown the grass was everywhere, including around her marker. I immediately thought, “I know mommy doesn’t like this one bit. It should be a luscious green.”
I paused, bent down, and pulled out the vase in her marker. I then placed her flowers neatly inside, sat down and said,
“Hi, Mommy. I made it”
I then dabbed my eyes and talked to her for a while. I talked about my life, losing John, my adorable granddaughter and how I wish she was still here.
I ended the conversation by apologizing for not coming more often to see her but assured her that would change now since John is here.
I kissed my fingers, touched her grave and said, “I love you, Mommy, please keep taking care of John until I get there.”
That wasn’t so bad but of course, I didn’t expect it to be since I’ve been visiting mommy’s grave for the past 25 years.
Visiting John is going to be much harder.
Mommy’s GraveMy Beautiful Mother, Viola M. Thurman
Visiting John
September 6, 2024
I returned to my car and sat there for a minute. I looked up and stared at the sky for a while, thinking, “It’s a beautiful blue today”
I sat there a little longer, procrastinating.
I looked at John’s flowers lying in the passenger seat and said, “I really don’t want to do this.” But the voice in my head said, “You have to, you’re already here”
So, I put the gear in drive and began to head down the winding road leading to the back of the cemetery where John is laid to rest. I passed by the pond on the grounds, noticed a few ducks swimming around in small circles and thought,
“I’m so glad John is buried here.”
When I arrived at the back of the cemetery, it took me a moment to remember where John is buried. I knew it was the first plot to the right of the road but, which one? I then noticed the temporary Grave Marker sticking out of the ground with his name on it and said, “There you are.”
I’m so happy the funeral home included a temporary marker for him because when I stopped and was getting out of the car, I noticed there were several other new graves around that didn’t have any identification as to who was buried there.
I got my lawn chair out of the trunk because I planned on sitting with John for a while.
As I approached his grave, I noticed the grave right above his is of a young man not much younger than John who passed away just a year before he did. Engraved on his marker to the left of his name, is the picture of a car and to the right, the image of a hockey player which made me think, “I’m glad John has a buddy so close to him that loves cars too. I can only imagine the conversations they’re having.”
Tears immediately start flowing when I sat down at his grave and said,
“Hi son, I’m here.”
I must have cried for 30 minutes straight as I sat in silence just looking at his name on that marker.
I still can’t believe he’s here.
As time passed by, I seemed to babble about everything that has been happening since he’s been gone. I told him I missed him a thousand times and that I love him a thousand more.
I totally forgot about the flowers, so I went to my car to retrieve them. I then saw a mother duck and her ducklings walking toward his grave which made me cry even harder.
