I feel tricked.  How could it be 15 years?

Since the day my life was shattered by violence

Since the day our family lost a son, a nephew, a cousin, an uncle

Since the day my daughter lost her brother

Since the day I would no longer see his smile

Since the pain flowed from my eyes and blinded me

Since my protective shield was shattered

Since the day I didn’t know if I could ever be happy again?

 I would not change anything in my life if given the chance; except to bring my son home.  I know that is not possible, so I have spent the last fifteen years working on having the best life possible.  I feel fortunate, I feel loved; I feel like my actions on earth every day make a difference. 

 Maybe I wasn’t tricked but opened up to more life than I thought possible.

”How are you dealing with your anger?”  This is the number one question people have asked me over the fourteen years since my son, Christopher, was murdered.  Friends, family, other victims and inmates, have all wondered about this.

This question always makes me pause.  Then after a few moments, I inevitably answer, “I don’t do anger.”  For me anger is toxic.  I have seen people fight and scream at each other.  Whenever this happened, I was frightened.  At some point in my life, I made a decision that I would not relate to any person in this way….ever.

 Mark Taylor, in an angry state, shot my son, Christopher, with a gun.  The violence and anger involved in my son’s death is totally NOT understandable to me.  I’ve done a lot of thinking about it and I am still baffled about how any person can get angry enough to kill someone.

Everyone who has been through a traumatic death goes through a healing process.  Some come through enjoying the gifts of life again, and others are always aware of the gift that was taken.

I know other people who have suffered the tragedy of losing a child, who were initially angry but who worked through their anger in order to create a better quality of life for themselves.  I have encountered others who realize they’re angry, and want to work through it, but don’t know how.  This is where working with a victim advocate helps.  An advocate can help by suggesting grief groups or one-on-one counseling.   Many times, they have been through a similar experience and can serve as a guide through the healing process.  It can be very helpful to have your feelings validated by another.  It can also give you hope.  Here is a person who also experienced something like what I am going through and they are walking and talking without crying every couple of minutes.  And, Time is a wonderful gentle healer itself.

My most important advice is: Don’t let “the event” eat you alive.  If you do, you are giving your perpetrator so much more power than he or she or it deserves.  A friend who is a criminal attorney said to me when he heard the news ‘Radha, don’t let this man take any more from you.  He has taken more than he was ever entitled to.  Don’t move, don’t not go on vacation – LIVE – don’t let this man take more from your life and the life of your family”.

After Chris was murdered, I realized quickly that I needed to find comfort with this murder and not only live, but thrive.  I feel the need to help others, to be a positive person in my life with family, friends and strangers.  I believe that even if you just buy a newspaper from someone, the interaction should be respectful and kind.  You never know who is going to cross your path in life or whom you are going to meet.

Of course, I understand that anger may well be a part of many people’s reaction to the loss of a child, whether the cause of death be a natural disaster, an accident, a health issue, or as in my case, a crime.  When it came time for the trial, because of the injustice of his act, the whole family wanted Mark Taylor to get the maximum sentence allowed by law.  There is a range of years the judge is allowed to sentence for each charge and we felt the perpetrator deserved to be punished fully.

And I do think anger can be a positive tool to fuel movement towards a better something.  My feelings of how Christopher’s life was wasted by a man with a gun fueled me to work for gun control.  If I could save one parent from losing a child,” I would feel better.

But anger that is not directed toward anything positive is not only useless; it’s toxic for everybody who comes into contact with it.  Being out of control angry does not have any positive recourse.  In my work with inmates, the lack of control of anger is the main cause for the crime they committed.  In many cases their anger is fueled by fear or grief.  But since they have no means of understanding or resolving the deep causes of their fear or grief, they act from their anger.

I have experienced the ways people communicate and feel anger.  And the anger is not always directed only at the cause of their loved one’s death.  In addition to railing “This isn’t fair!” “How come me?” they lash out at others:  “How dare you be happy and, live your lives without experiencing suffering?”  ”How can you throw a party for your child when mine is not here to have a birthday party?”  “Your child’s going to have babies, I’ll never have grandchildren.”

We need to be here full and present for the living.  How can you NOT go to your grandson’s birthday party and NOT be happy for him?  How can you NOT be happy when your niece is getting married?  How can you NOT be happy for the other children, friends and family in you life?

I remind the people I work with that the people on the street DO NOT know you are suffering.  They are not mind readers, and grief does not make you ugly or put a label on your forehead for others to see.

I also REALLY believe that my son, Christopher, and all the others who have passed, do not want us to be miserable for the rest of our lives here.  I think we honor those who have passed by living the best life possible for ourselves.

Series #2 – When More Help Is Needed

Be Gentle with Advice

This one is BIG.  A natural death at a very old age is different from a death due to crime.  If your grandfather died at 99 years old and the person you are speaking with has a son or daughter who has died, please do not say, “I know how you feel.”  These two losses are very different experiences.  It is out of the natural order to outlive your child and for the rest of your life; you will miss the child who is no longer with you.

Also, please don’t say, “You’ll get over this some day.”  Who would want to be “over it,” forget their loved one?  What you do want is for it to be easier to walk by their picture without crying.  I think “closure” should be taken out of the English language.  I close a door but never want to close the love for my son…..ever!

Don’t Try to Fix Your person/family

People grieve; it is a process.  And the process is different for each one of us.  Be gentle with your judgments of how you think the grief should be.  Some people are private about their grief, some are public, so don’t push the expression of grief.  My mother used to say, “Everything will dovetail.”  What she meant was that in its own time, this will work out.  This is the way of grief.  For each of us it unfolds in a different way.

Help Care for Family Pets

Many grieving people need to travel and attend to family matters or even trials at some point.  Also, they may not have the energy to take care of any person or animal.  When you are deeply hurting, every little thing is a huge effort.

Animal care can be short term or long term.  If you can help – just ask.

What you can do:

Walk the dog

Take the dog to the groomers (pick-up too)

Buy pet food and supplies

Change the litter box

You might even offer to take the cat/dog home with you for a short time to relieve the family of responsibility.

 Have a Meal Delivered

Everyone needs to eat.  Do your best to offer healthy nutritious food.  If your person/family has a craving for something, bring it.  Treats in life are important and comfort is hard to find for the newly grieving.  Remember to inquire about dietary restrictions before you order food.

Cook a Nutritious Meal

Make food and bring it or cook for the grieving person or family in their home.  I love to make soup, and I think soup made with love helps.  Some of the soups I make are, chicken soup, to which I often add vegetables.  I also make tomato bisque, white bean with sausage soup, and lentil soup.  I love to make soup because I enjoy the chopping, the brewing of all the flavors and because it’s healthy.  But if you have something special you love to cook make that for your person.  People love receiving pasta sauce, meatloaf, macaroni and cheese, quiche—any food that can be kept on hand or freezes well.

When someone receives a meal you have prepared for them, they feel cared for.  And at the same time, you feel that you have contributed something toward their care at such a difficult time.

Again, ask about dietary restrictions.  As well, you might ask if they need the food.  Too much of a good thing can become a burden at this difficult time.

Run Small Errands for Them

Small errands become difficult.  Help however you can.  Ask for a grocery list – please don’t just guess.  Going to public places is very hard in the beginning.  You feel so exposed and vulnerable.  Picking up groceries for a grieving person or family means both that they don’t have to force themselves into a public place and that there is one fewer things to take care of.

You can also offer to go to the Post Office, the drug store to pick up sundries, even the hardware store.

Bring Flowers – and arrange in a vase

Grief is a hard way to get flowers, but their beauty does help.  Consider a potted plant or bring the flowers in a vase.  If you bring loose flowers, arrange the flowers in one of the household vases when you arrive.  Also, be mindful of allergies.  Dealing with flowers can be overwhelming in early stages of grief.  If you have the time, tend to the others that have been sent.  I saved all the rose petals from bouquets I received and dried them for Christopher’s resting place.

Clean the Person’s House

If they will let you CLEAN!  Otherwise have a service come in and offer to pay for it.  Life takes a lot of maintenance, and when your life has changed so quickly and you are grieving, it is very hard to keep up with.  Things can start to unravel quickly if not taken care of.  Help the grieving person maintain their home by:

Do house repairs if needed

Tidy up the kitchen, wash dishes, etc.

Check the refrigerator for food gone bad

Make the beds

Help with gardening

Water and care for inside plants

Pick up their mail

Help with bills, correspondence and thank you notes for flowers

Do a load of laundry

Take dry cleaning

Offer Small Opportunities for Self Care

Offer your person a massage.  I found massages a very safe place to cry, and simply told the therapist, “If I cry, don’t worry.”

Suggest going for a manicure or pedicure, a hair style.  Often simply getting out of the house for a short time without having to socialize is a welcome relief.

Remember HUMOR Is a Great  Healing Tool

The first time I laughed was a big moment.  I did not know if I would ever laugh again.  Don’t be afraid to say anything funny.  At such a time, people want anything that seems normal, and for most of us, laughter is an important part of life.

Be Present in the Moment

It is important to be with your person/family while you are there.  Don’t sit and work on your computer or cell phone.  Be with them.  Their world has changed and even sitting in silence is comforting.  Be okay with quiet.  Reassure them that all they need to do is be in the moment and take things moment to moment.  Music can be very soothing, also.

Love with Abundance

What ever your heart may suggest will most likely be right.  Don’t tiptoe around or walk on eggshells.  Be yourself that is who they know.

Thank you to Georgia, Carolyn, Lisa, Jessalyn, David and Stacy for help with this series

Things You Can Do For a Grieving Person

Early Stages

No one practices for grieving and trauma.  People do not know what to say or do in many cases.  When I am asked, “What do I say?” I tell people,” Say hello”; the words will come.  Just don’t ignore your family/friend/relative/co-worker.  Naturally, your support and care will differ with a family member, friend or co-worker.  Just do what you can and what feels good to you.

 Most of these suggestions are for the beginning stages of grief.  I want to stress that every person handles grief in their own time and way.  That is why I chose the name “Griefprints” for my blog.

• Call

When Christopher was murdered, people used to ask “How are you?” and I would answer, “Fine.”  A few people actually went one step further and asked “How are you really?  How are you dealing with missing Christopher and his death?”  When I heard these questions, I was always grateful.  Instead of automatically answering “I’m fine,” I could respond fully, “This is really is a nightmare.”  “I miss Christopher and it’s unimaginable that he’s not coming back.”

 I remember that despite my grief over losing Christopher, I often felt I had to take care of other people.  The situation was too awful for them to think about.  So when someone wanted to know how I really felt, it was a relief knowing that I didn’t have to take care of them.

 Other things you might say:

“How are you doing since the death of (here you can name the person)?”

Or “How are you managing since the death of _________?” 

“Are you getting what you need to get through this?”

“Are you taking care of yourself?”

“Are there any questions you have, or anything you want to talk about?” 

• Visit

Your friend, family member or maybe someone you hardly know needs caring for.  First, always ask if they are ready for a visit.  If they are, check before you visit to see if something is needed.  Simple things become very hard when you are in shock.  Does your family/person need groceries, dry cleaning picked up, KLEENEX (soft kind) or postage stamps?  Are there any phone calls you can make for them?  How about picking their children up at school?  Always ask…please.

If you do visit, spend time with them in whatever shape they may be.  Hold their hand, make a cup of tea, encourage them to relax in the garden, take a short walk; be with them (leave your cell phone in the car).  Ask them what they need in the moment and follow their lead.

At this time, it’s an effort for the grieving person to get through the day.  What you can do best is simply to be there with them and respond to any needs they express.

One bit of help you can offer is to put a message on their answering machine.  At this time calls are coming in rapidly, and the grieving person doesn’t always want to have to answer the phone and talk to people.  The message might say: “Thank you for calling.  Your call is sincerely appreciated.  We will get back to you when we’re able.”

Another common concern for a grieving person is sleep.  Often, they have great difficulty sleeping initially.  You might ask your friend, relative, co-worker about their sleep, and if they are having difficulty, suggest natural sleeping aids before they go to prescription.

• Talk

Most people were afraid to mention Christopher, for fear of upsetting me.  But this was what I really wanted to talk about.  And these stories brought Christopher back into the room.

Almost immediately, funny stories about Christopher helped me.  My sisters, daughter, brothers and I would sit around and reminiscence.  “Do you remember when Christopher played Santa Claus and he was so thin he had to put two pillows in his pants?”

A freshly grieving person has this to say:

             “The most meaningful communications I have received are people’s fond remembrances of my mom and dad.  It’s not so much the sweeping generalizations (“what a wonderful person she was”), but rather the specific stories (“I remember this one time when your dad was coaching your little league team.”) that I appreciate most.  Whether humorous or profound, in the early stages of grief these stories reminded me -in the midst of such overwhelming despair -about how much my parents positively affected other lives.  These stories made me feel warm inside at a time when everything seemed unbelievably dark and cold.  It was also more meaningful somehow because it was very personal.  As far as I’m concerned, it’s one of the easier things you can do for a grieving person; simply sharing a story.”

It also helped me to talk about all I had lost with Christopher’s murder.  I wanted to talk about what the future would and would not offer:  no wedding, no more birthdays, and no grandchildren.  In losing Christopher, I lost all of that. 

• Send Cards

Most people get a flood of cards when they lose their loved one, but the cards quickly stop.  Consider daring to be different and send one a week for a while.  Very small gestures of kindness go along way.

Many years ago dear friends Karl and Tony went to Boston for experimental cancer treatment.  I sent them off with a personal “Get Well” card to open every day.  I called it my “one-a-day multiple vitamins.”  My husband, Gary and I wrote jokes, silly quotes and “don’t forget to be nice to the nurses.”  When I talked to these friends, Karl said that he and Tony both brightened up everyday when it was time for Tony to open his card.

• Send Emails (once you’ve contacted the person)

If your grieving person communicates by email….email them.  Just a quick note to let them know you are thinking about them.  “Thinking of you; I’m here when you need me.”  “I hope there’s a little sunshine in your day somewhere.” They may not answer at first, but when they do look at their email, they will REALLY appreciate you thinking of them.  For somebody fresh with grief, nothing feels normal.  An added benefit of a quick email is that it takes them back to a time when life was intact, and that can feel good, if only for a moment.

You can also send cards, images, photos via email. 

• Remember the Children

Children can get forgotten when grieving is fresh and life becomes chaotic.  Include the children in whatever you do.  And don’t underestimate what they understand.  Sometimes protecting children too much is harmful.  Let them participate in appropriate ways.  At the funeral/memorial, for example, the children can read a poem; scatter rose petals, light a candle or tell a story.

Send a sympathy card to the child/children too.  Ask them “How are you really?”  If needed, advise school counselors about the family situation.  Do something with the children by themselves so they feel your love and caring. 

When our grandchildren were seven and nine, their father died.  In addition to everything we did, soon after the death, Gary and I picked the kids up and took them to dinner.  Shortly after this, we created “Family Night,” for the extended family.  And we have continued the tradition.  Every other Sunday, all of us get together for dinner.  We rotate who cooks, and if it’s your birthday, you can choose the menu.

Thank you to Georgia, Carolyn, Lisa, Jessalyn, David and Stacy for help with this series

We decided to throw a party.  I sent out an email invitation and over eighty people responded.  The response was so loving and positive; it made our whole family feel that Christopher had not been forgotten.

 My sister Kristin flew down from Seattle to help me cook and prepare for the party.  We decide to make blintzes, one of Christopher’s MOST favorite foods.  It was a real act of love to make blintzes for eighty!

I had never had a large party on Christopher’s anniversary before.  People asked me “Why now?”  All I can say is it felt right; it was time.  I wanted to share at the party how the journey had been for our family over the past 13 years.

I am now going to share that timeline with you.

March 21, 1996 – Christopher was murdered early in the morning.  Our family would never be the same.  My goal was to find comfort and not be so derailed by the trauma.  I instinctively knew I was going to make it through this tragedy.  I didn’t know how to or what to expect.  I just knew I wanted be graceful and kind along the way.

1997, the first year without Christopher.  I joined Compassionate Friends along with my daughter, Christina.  We were anguished by legal delays around the trial and fresh grief.  I threw my self into gun control work with the Trauma Foundation.

1998, the second year and I was still doing gun control work.  We went to trial, enduring five weeks during the BART strike.  The murderer, Mark James Taylor, was convicted of second degree murderer and sentenced six weeks later to 19 years to life (indeterminate sentence).

1999, the third year and when the real grief work started for me.  The trial being over was such a relief; I could now work on heart and soul.  I commissioned fabric artist Liz Piatt to make a quilt about Christopher’s life and I continued to work on gun control.  I also started working with people/families who had experience a similar crime, to help them navigate the criminal court system and the heart work of grieving.

2000, the fourth year.  The gun control work with the Trauma Foundation was exciting.  We were putting on the Million Mom March in Washington D.C.  Over a million moms’s showed up from all over the country to ask for tighter gun control laws.  I also married my darling husband, Gary, at the San Francisco Food Bank.  Our ceremony was conducted by Judge Joseph Hurley, the judge at the murder trail.  I truly believe you need to replace a bad memory with a positive one!

2001, the fifth year.  I met through dear friends Jacques Verduin, the Executive Director of Insight Prison Project.  We started working together on how traumatic crime stains a family.

2002, the sixth year.  Jacques and I were meeting regularly.  He worked with inmates at San Quentin but never had the chance to work with someone who had been on the other side of the murderer (A victim – for lack of a better word).  I visited San Quentin for the first time.  My daughter, Christina, had a breakdown on Christopher’s anniversary (6^th), and I was in deep fear of losing two children.  Again, the family gathered to support her/us through a very difficult time.

2003, the seventh year (1/3^rd of Christopher’s life).  I continued to volunteer with Insight Prison Project and to look for ways to find comfort.  Christina was stable and doing better.

2004, the eighth year.  I continued to volunteer with Insight Prison Project.

2005, the ninth year.  I had the amazing opportunity to cook Thanksgiving dinner for a group of inmates at San Quentin.  It was a very special meal for me and for everyone who attended.

2006, the tenth year, a decade since Christopher was murdered.  I was still volunteering with Insight Prison Project.  I sent an anniversary card out to over 300 people who had supported our family’s journey.  The Katargeo group at San Quentin made ma a quilt about Christopher’s life.  I again was fortunate to cook another Thanksgiving dinner for inmates at San Quentin.

2007, the eleventh year.  I continued to volunteer with Insight Prison Project, as well as taking the Victim Offender Education Group training with Rochelle Edwards.  For the third year, I had the privilege of preparing another Thanksgiving meal for the small group if inmates at San Quentin.

2008, the twelfth year.  I continued to volunteer with Insight Prison Project.  I had a dialogue (one-on-one) with my perpetrator, Mark James Taylor.  Christina (my daughter) started volunteering in the Warden’s office at San Quentin.

2009, is the thirteenth year.  I have started a blog.  I continue to work with people whose lives have been touched by traumatic loss.  One thing I have learned about grief is “be open to the process.”  No one knows what tomorrow will bring; I am ready with open arms.

PostScript

2010, is the fourteenth year and I feel happier, healthier and more settled in myself/soul than I ever have in my short life.  I volunteer with many agencies, including Insight Prison Project, San Francisco Food Bank and the Sausalito Art Festival Foundation.  I keep in touch with Compassionate Friends and continue to work with families who have lost a loved one; usually through a crime being committed.

 We met in the education building, a long walk thorough the prison grounds from the front gate to the middle of the prison, passing through the exercise yard where we were noticed by every inmate on it.  Once in the building, we all said our hellos and began moving chairs into a circle for our time together.

 Once we were all seated, each of us checked in to report how we were doing.  Then, once Jacques made announcements, he told the men we were there because I was going to the dialogue the following week and I thought it would be helpful to talk with them before I went.

 What emerged from the discussion was that the men did not have specific questions they would like to be asked in a dialogue.  What they did emphasize was that my walking through the door to have a dialogue with Mark Taylor was the amazing part.  They also felt there should be enough time for him to tell his story.  They said I must be very strong and brave to talk to the man who murdered my son.  “You must have a very open heart to be doing this,” several said.”  They all hoped I wouldn’t be disappointed.

 I told them about the schedule for my dialogue so they would know when it was taking place, and they all voiced they would be thinking about me the whole time.

Before I left, I asked to come back the next week and tell them about my experience.

The evening before the dialogue, Gary and I drove down to Coalinga where we met Jaimee and Rochelle.  We all stayed at a hotel near the prison, went to bed early—Rochelle, Jaimee and I needed to be at the gate of the prison very early in the morning–and I actually slept.  When I awoke the next morning, I was amazingly calm and had a large breakfast, knowing we would be in the prison most of the day, and even in stressful times I get HUNGRY!

Gary wasn’t allowed to be with us, so he stayed behind and spent the day visiting local food banks to help them find ways to procure produce.  Even though he couldn’t accompany me to the dialogue, I was glad Gary was close by for the heart support.  And because the confidentiality agreement I would have to sign once I entered the prison exempted family, I knew debriefing with him later would be a positive experience.

It took us all over an hour to get cleared, sign papers and get through all the gates to our destination.  Then we were taken into a very small room off the main visiting area.  The room had a window through which the guards on duty could see us.  The five of us—Jamiee, Rochelle, Mark Taylor, his support person, and I­­–sat around a table so small, our elbows almost touched.

Because of the confidentiality agreement, I cannot share with you the details of the time we spent in that very small room.  What I can share with you is that I experienced both disappointment and relief.  I had not been sure all these years if Mark Taylor was REALLY the man I thought he was.  I had only met him for five minutes when he became my son’s housemate at school.  The next time I saw him was at court proceedings.

I realized at some point in this process that I had been thrown into a relationship with Mark against my will and I needed to come to a place of comfort, so the relationship did not haunt me.  I can understand terrible mistakes.  If Mark had made a fatal mistake when he killed Christopher, and if he had taken responsibility for his actions – I would be able to understand.  But the dialogue confirmed my beliefs about his character.  It was like getting a fresh report card ten years later, and the grades had not changed.

Despite this disappointment, I felt a deep sense of relief.  I knew that Christopher was proud of me.  As well, finally I felt comfortable with the relationship with Mark Taylor.  Yes, he would still be a presence in my life, but he needed to work on his life and I could not help him with that.  During the dialogue I tried many times, but he did not open that door for himself.

What made me saddest is that two lives had been lost.  My son, Christopher’s, who was murdered and Mark’s, the murderer, who chose to live his life in prison and not add anything positive to the community there.

I was extremely tired on the way home.  I made phone calls to my dear family and friends, telling them I was fine, very tired, and that as far as Mark Taylor was concerned, nothing had really changed.  Once home, I slept on and off for a few days, just needing to be quiet and absorb what had happened.

Early the next week I went back to San Quentin to see the men in the Katargeo group again.  I again walked the long path across the prison, under watchful eyes of guards and inmates, to the Education building.  We pulled the chairs into our circle, sat and all held hands, taking a moment to bring ourselves fully into the room.  Here again I had to be mindful of the confidentiality agreement, but I did share my disappointments and my relief.

I was amazed at what came next:

One inmate told me that he started thinking about me at the time I would be walking into the prison to see Mark.  He imagined it was he who was about to experience his victim’s mother arriving.  He shared that he realized that he would have positive things to say to her and that he was proud of this.  He knew she would need him to tell his story and take full responsibility for his actions.  He knew she would want to hear him say he was so terribly sorry and have it come from a true place in his heart.  He was deeply sorry for everyone the tragedy had touched.  He could only imagine all the grief and trauma he had caused her, her family and community.  He had been working on being a more aware and kind human being and could tell her that.  Then he thanked me for this surrogate experience.  He felt experiencing this through me was the closest he would ever get, and he was grateful.

Another inmate said, “You planted the seeds and you will never know what sprouts from them.”  He then added, “You need to know that may be the first time in Mark Taylor’s life that he has sat across the table from a mother’s love.”

Being with the Katargeo group, before and after the dialogue was the best part of the dialogue for me.  Another unexpected gift.

Unexpected gifts come from places you would not imagine.  I received gifts of words, wisdom and comfort from men in San Quentin.

My mother used to say ”Everything dovetails.”  My father used to say “Better late than never.”  I doubted both of these adages until I was in my late teens…….and now, I repeat them both to other people!

In preparation I spoke with other families who had participated in a dialogue.  Both had burning questions they had needed answered by their perpetrator before they could fully grieve: “What were the last words?”  “How long did you ______?”

I did not have any of these burning questions.  The murder case was made very clear to me in the trial, and I was accepting of the details.  I was more focused on the type of person I believed my perpetrator to be; and hoped I was wrong.

In preparation for my dialogue, I began meeting once a month with Rochelle Edwards, a licensed psychotherapist and Victim Offender Mediator of severe and violent crimes.  Rochelle works with both victims of crime and their offenders who wish to engage in a dialogue about the impact of the crime.  The purpose of the dialogue is to provide victims of crime the opportunity for a structured meeting with their offenders, in a secure, safe environment, in order to help them with their recovery process.  A dialogue provides the offenders the opportunity to fully understand and take responsibility for the impact of their crime, which can help in their own recovery as well– if they are truly open to doing the heart/hard work required.

During the eight months we met, she also met with Mark, my perpetrator, in Coalinga (she had to travel four hours each way) to prepare him for the dialogue.  Mark would ask questions through Rochelle and I would respond and/or ask questions back.  During this process, I did come up with some questions I wanted to ask Mark when I saw him, as well as a few things I wanted to share.  I wanted to know if Mark was “doing time or using time” (If he was contributing to his prison community in any way).  I wondered if he had ever considered jumping bail and what the anniversary of Christopher’s murder was like for him.  I also wanted to share a dream I had that Mark rang my doorbell – which I answered–and he told me, “I’m free and I just wanted to say ‘I’m very sorry about what I did.”

Here I was again, touching memories that had been quiet for some years.  It was like seeing the movie again.  I relived the first moments of intense trauma and wound up feeling quite calm, proud that I have managed not to let this tragedy ruin my life.  I chose to live and I am living happy and well.

Mark was encouraged to have a support person during the dialogue; he chose his sister.  I asked a dear friend, Jaimee Karroll, whom I had met doing Victim Offender Education Group work in San Quentin.  We had also been to three other prisons together serving on victim panels and had developed a very caring relationship.  We are both “victims’ (for lack of a better word).  Jaimee was abducted as a small child and held captive.  We worked with inmates together and had learned to care for each other in a very instinctive and supportive way while doing very emotional work.  When Jaimee agreed to support me through the dialogue process, I felt a calm come over me.  I knew was in capable hands with her as my support and Rochelle as the facilitator.  My family and friends were very encouraging of my choice to go ahead with the dialogue.  Their love has been a constant on this journey of mine.

While preparing, I realized it was important to give this experience all my attention, so I arranged my wonderfully busy life to be quiet the month before the dialogue.  I marked off the month on my calendar and made very few appointments.  I did spend time with friends and family at home and reran the movie in my head a few times.  The last month Rochelle, Jaimee and I met once a week to go over fears, questions and concerns.

My big concern was that when I saw Mark for the first time again, I would react in a very emotional way, which would be difficult for me.  Often when I met with Rochelle and Jaimee we discussed this fear, which I learned to talk myself through by saying that this dialogue was my choice: I could walk out of the room and the prison at any time.

Rochelle’s curriculum is structured for inmates to understand themselves better, to grasp how their life experiences and decisions led them to prison.  Also important is for them to gain insight into how their crimes have impacted their victim(s), their own families and their community.  The purpose of this intensive work is to help offenders fully understand and take responsibility for their actions and to make the necessary changes in their lives, in order one day to live a productive life free from prison.  The belief is that given the opportunity to understand their choices in life and the impact those choices have had on others, offenders can play an important role in restoring to whole the lives of their victims, their community and themselves.

The more individual offenders understand themselves and the impact on their victim(s) becomes personalized, the greater hope we have to reduce recidivism and witness offenders making the necessary changes to live meaningful and productive lives.  At the end of their intensive eight months (this can be up to a year) work with the facilitator, the offender is ready to meet face-to–face with the victim (s).  It is ultimately the facilitator’s decision when the inmate is ready– sometimes that is never.

At the time, to engage in a dialogue with your perpetrator, you needed to get permission, from the California State Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation; which we did.  Then you need to have the Warden of the prison you are going to visit approve.  We did this as well.  A date was set.  I wanted a record of the event.  I knew a family who participated in a dialogue a year before ours.  They had it video taped and so I lobbied the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation to also be able to video tape.  It was important to me that my family be able to see the dialogue in the future, if they wished, especially my daughter, Christina.  I was not planning on doing this twice.

The dialogue we were participating in was the fifth ever in California to be approved by the CDCR.  I was told “No” (so many times) to video taping.  Every time I was turned down I was referred to yet another department, which eventually turned me down.  After a while, I became extremely frustrated, feeling I wasn’t being heard.  A friend advised me to contact my State Assembly person Jared Huffman’s office.  His office got me permission to audio tape, though not video tape, but I was satisfied.  Agreement was reached three days before the dialogue date.  I also had to sign a confidentially agreement for the actual dialogue.

Now we were set.

The quilt has 18 squares mounted on black felt.  It is approximately 4 & 1/2 feet wide and 5 feet tall, and has been backed and framed to protect it.  Most of the materials came from San Quentin and include; mattress liners (they make mattresses for California State prisons at San Quentin), a State-issued handkerchief, a blue State shirt pocket, leather samples, black felt (donated by the prison hobby shop), glass beads (Native American crafts in the prison), pen ink, marker ink, print, glue, thread, buttons and rosebuds donated by a quilt store.

The quilt also contains rose petals that were used in the ceremony for Christopher’s Anniversary on Mt. Tamalpais, on March 21, 2006, in a few squares.  The photos are adorned with two red “blessing cords,” blessed by the Dalai Lama, which Jacques had been gifted somehow.  The inmates glued on pebbles collected from one of the beach walks taken by Radha and Jacques when they were discussing Christopher’s life and death.  And at the bottom of the quilt, they attached a hanging red thread, which, according to Navajo tradition, allows the spirit to freely move in and out of the quilt.

The following are the stories and facts written for me by the men who made the quilt:

Square 2

 The key to our hearts.

Love. Respect.

 (ink, string and petals on white paper covered with plastic)

 “When the idea to make a quilt for Radha came about, I knew I was in real trouble!  You see, I have no, I mean not an ounce of artistic talent.  So, I was very reluctant.  Most of the guys in my Katargeo group started coming up with ideas off the tops of their head.  The following week guys started coming to group with their pieces.  I just looked on and wondered, ‘How’d they get that done?’  Well, time was running out fro me to come up with an idea and it came down to my last day.

“So, I began to think.  What Radha meant to me.  And, what Radha’s story meant to me.  And, what Radha’s loss meant to me.  And, over and over again, I kept coming up with how this brave woman walked into a room of 17 murderers, attempted murders and kidnappers at San Quentin State Prison, all who have served anywhere from 10–30 years on their life sentences.  And she looked each one of us in our eyes and told us her story.  I thought about how every single man in the room broke down in tears by the conclusion of the story of her son, Christopher. I thought about how Christopher had been murdered by a friend/roommate.  Radha’s story touched each of us in a different way, but I had an epiphany while listening to her story.  The way Christopher was murdered over something so trivial–like putting dishes in the wrong cabinet – really made me see the total picture as far as the error of my ways.

“You see, I was convicted for an attempted murder of a childhood friend whom I shot over something real trivial – money!  While Radha talked about Christopher, I saw my victim’s mother and I started to understand her pain.  I understood the pain she felt wondering if her son would live while he laid in the operating room after being shot by someone their family trusted!  This brave lady, Radha, had in that moment become my victim’s mother.  And I totally got the picture. I truly understood all the pain I had caused not only to my victim, but also his family, my family and our community.  Radha had at that moment won the key to my heart!”

Square 3

 Forgiveness is

the essence of the

violet that is shed

by the heel of the

one that crushes it.

 (Mt. Tam with violets, sun, mountain and bird embroidery on state issue handkerchief)

 “After realizing that we were really going to attempt to make a quilt, I had to come up with material, and even harder still, a motif for my square.  The material was easy, all I had available was a new handkerchief.  I remembered that I had something I put away that had an impact on me speaking on forgiveness.  Now all I needed to do is find it, and I did.

“When I heard the story of the quilt and Christopher’s life, I remembered his love for Mt. Tamalpais and watching sunsets there.  Hence, I embroidered an image of a mountain, a sunset, and some birds.

“The saying I sewed was: ‘Forgiveness is the essence of the violet that is shed by the heel of the one that crushes it.’

“When first meeting Radha, being in her presence and hearing her story, I realized what an extraordinary loving and forgiving woman she is.

“Forgiveness, like the essence of the violet crushed under foot and the sweet smell it brings.  Radha, the sacrifice of your love on the alter of forgiveness sends a sweet smelling fragrance unto God (Ephesians 5:1&2). God Bless You.”

Square 9

Every experience deeply felt in life needs to be passed along. Whether it be through words and music, chiseled in stone, painted with a brush, or sewn with a needle. It is a way of reaching for immortality.

Thomas Jefferson.

(Christopher’s 10^th anniversary card with red string blessed by the Dalai Lama, embellished with stones from Cronkite Beach)

 Square 13

Chris is alive;

for he is you,

because he

came from you

 it is his spirit I hear

when your laughter sings

out loud and it is his spirit

I feel even when we’re in a crowd.

Chris is alive;

for he is you, because he came

from you.

Trust and know he has not

left you alone, he is there by

your side wherever you may roam.

He is there, please trust what

I say is true

Chris is alive; because he lives in you. Thank you for

sharing your son with

 us, as well as yourself.

 (mattress material with two turquoise beads)

 “I remember meeting Radha for the first time in 2003 at our Katargeo class, and I must say I was not too enthusiastic about meeting a survivor whose son had been murdered.  To be honest, I was still trapped within my own guilt and shame of the murder I had committed eleven years earlier.  Upon entering the class you stood up, shook my hand and introduced yourself to me and all I could think of was that you had the kindest eyes and the warmest smile that I had seen in a very long time.

“You put me totally at ease, and at that moment I knew that you did not come here to condemn us, so I opened myself up to receive whatever message you came to bring.  After you finished telling us your story, I was filled with sympathy for you and your family but for the first time since my incarceration I understood the devastation I caused to the family members of my victim. I also came to know Christopher for the wonderfully decent human being that he was.  At the end of the class I told you that you had a beautiful spirit and that God was going to use you in a special way.  Through your willingness not to be bitter from this tragic event in your life, God has and is using you to heal countless men like me and to touch others who are not incarcerated.

“When Jacques suggested that the class should make a quilt for you in honor of Christopher, I was all for it.  Jacques also suggested we make it out of materials that were from the prison.  I decided on a piece of material that we use at my job (Prison Industry Authority) to make mattresses for all the institutions in the State of California.  The poem that I wrote came from my heart because that’s how I felt after meeting you the first day you came to our group and shared you son’s life with us.  I still feel this way today and I know Christopher will always be part of the lives of the people you meet because, he is you and you carry him with you wherever you go.

“Thank you for starting me on my road to healing by sharing your life with me.”

 Square 14

 Picture of a flower (Radha) with a dropped petal (Chris).

 (blue, green, yellow embroidery on a blue, state shirt pocket)

 “The very day we started talking about doing this quilt in our Katargeo group, this picture of a flower with a missing petal entered my mind.  That got me to thinking, “What does this flower mean to me, and what may it mean to you?”  Of course I can’t predict what it may mean to you, but I feel deeply what it means to me.  The flower is you; a beautiful person who brings beauty to the world and has chosen to live life with a loving and caring heart (loving and caring about yourself as well as others) even though you were hurt deeply; deeply by someone.

“The fallen petal is the part of you that is with Christopher – keeping him in your life in a most times happy – sometimes sad way.  I’m sure Christopher’s spirit is deeply moved and pleased with how you are holding him, and holding you, as you live your life and share your life.

“The blue material is a piece I cut out of my state shirt that I have been wearing when I get visits from my family and loved ones.  I’ve had this shirt for years now and only wore it to my visits.  I got it brand new and I washed it and ironed it after every visit.  Then I would hang it up in my cell in a plastic bag, just like the dry cleaners do, and save it for my next visit.  I chose this shirt over other blue shirts I had because it means a lot to me, as it’s the shirt I’ve worn so many times while spending precious time with my loved ones.  I also wore it to our Thanksgiving meal we all ate together (that you cooked so lovingly and deliciously).

“I am absolutely not an artist by any means so this kindygarden- looking flower that I drew on paper at first and then transferred to the cloth took me quite some time to draw.

“When I was just eight or nine years old my Mom taught me how to do a simple embroidery stitch and helped me embroider a picture on my pillow case.  Well, I don’t know if I am remembering the stitch right but what I did on your flower is the best I can remember that stitch.  Again, a lot of time spent (stitching this flower I drew) but I loved every minute of it because it was for you and I was thinking of you and Christopher the whole time.

“The thread (yes, I even have story about the thread) is from a little pocket-sized sewing kit I bought in back in 1992; back when you could buy sewing kits in the prison store.  I’ve been using this kit all these years to repair my clothes and make a few things (like leather weightlifting gloves and my leather wallet I made in ‘93 that I still carry today).  Anyway, the kit has dwindled down from several needles and different colored thread to two needles and very small amounts of thread left on a few spools.  The really cool part of this (if you’re not bored with reading this long letter yet) is that I had so little thread left that I had just barely enough of the green and orange to do your flower (less than an inch left after I tied the knots) and only a few inches of the blue and gray.  It was like your flower was what that last little bit of thread was meant for.

“The whole experience of this quilt – the planning it with the guys, (three Katargeo meetings of planning it and making it) the getting together the material and doing my piece in my cell, and the sharing our pieces last week and putting the quilt together as a group (having a great time, us all talking about you and Christopher and the quilt on March 21) and now to get to spend time with you and honor you and Christopher, and ultimately give you the quilt! – is an experience that I will always remember and cherish……THANK YOU for coming into our lives, Radha, and for blessing us with your wonderful spirit and your fun personality. What a gift to humanity you are.”

Square 17

 Upon This Mountain

 Upon this mountain I love to climb……for it is up here we will always be near.  I come up here for the view and to touch the very sky….that is why I come

Upon This Mountain

 A red tail hawk soars serenely by as we view the scenery below.  Forest birds chirp and flit about….other creatures scurry about.  Mice and lizards…I can hear somewhere very near….

Upon This Mountain

 Away from the traffic and noise with a sound of its own….a mountain alive.  Is that a creek I know hear?  Also, rather near?  The rains seem to clean and clear the air about me….it is up here I feel so very near…..

Upon This Mountain

 Mom, thank you most for meeting these kind men in San Quentin and sharing my love of this mountain.  Their one bad day, a day of an awful choice or an angry fiery rage….it is okay for you to come and visit me….and we will be up…..up here…..

Upon This Mountain

 (plastic covered pink typing on paper with dried rose petals mounted on leather)

 Square 18

 Forgiveness sends a healing

 message much further

than you might believe or

comprehend.  As you develop a

forgiving demeanor, you change

minds less by your words than

by your example. Saving souls

less by your program than

by your presence.

Thank you for

sharing your presence with me.

 (brown leather with ink)

I wanted to share these stories with you.  More gifts with death.  This quilt is a treasure and very fragile, so I had it backed and framed (without glass) and it hangs in a room in our house where we spend allot of time.  I am very grateful for this additional reminder of how precious every day is.

 On March 21, 1996 one of my first thoughts after hearing about the murder was Mark’s mother.  How was she feeling?  As we were reeling with the traumatic news, I thought it had to be traumatic for her and her family also.  As time has gone by, it has been revealed that she was not thinking of my pain – only hers.

I can’t help thinking about the person who violated us to the very core.  On Christopher’s birthday, death day and many, many other days of the year, I think about Mark James Taylor and his gun.  In the early days, I fought against thinking about him.  It was like poison seeping into my mind.  As time went by, I wanted to find a comfortable place for this relationship to sit in my soul–because I was stuck with it.  I was not happy about being stuck; however, I wanted to be happy.

 Christopher had chosen to go to a trade school to study heating and air condition.  He wanted “people to be comfortable in their homes.” He was going to be placed in school housing with other students.  The first apartment I looked at Christopher would have shared with three other boys studying auto mechanics.  They had been doing their greasy homework on the living room carpet and I knew Christopher would be uncomfortable; he liked things clean (not neat but clean!).  The second apartment was larger and had only one other student – Mark James Taylor.  I did not know Mark had a gun in the apartment.  It was against school rules. (I found out many years later Mark had purchased the gun because he had been robed and bullied by a group of young men).

 I met Mark as we were all moving Christopher in.  I assured Mark that if they needed anything for the apartment, we would happy to help get it.  That was the only time I met him–once for about five minutes before–I saw him in a courtroom accused of murdering my child.

 People ask me frequently, “How did I deal with the anger?”

The answer is simple: I don’t do anger.  I very rarely get mad.  At first, when I didn’t feel anger toward Mark Taylor, I thought perhaps it was because I was in denial.  But I was not in denial: I knew beyond a reasonable doubt that my son was dead because Mark James Taylor murdered him.  There was too much evidence.  Within seconds, Mark went from being my sons’ apartment mate to his murderer.  It was a dramatic relationship change for all of us

 Somewhere around six months after Christopher was murdered; Mark James Taylor was released on $75,000 bail.  He did not have a record and that made a difference with the judge who granted bail.  His family had also hired a private attorney to defend him.

 We were all devastated.  Now I felt like the murder had happened again.  I know bail is an American right, but Mark had killed Christopher!  I did not have a specific plan for finding comfort; I only knew it was a goal for me.  Mark James Taylor took so much from me, from us; that I didn’t want him to take anything more.

 Winter 2003

At a holiday party given by dear friends, I met Jacques Verduin, a Hollander who ran a program called the Insight Prison Project (www.insightprisonproject.org).  My husband, Gary, spoke with him at length and suggested to Jacques that he speak with me, saying, “I think it would be good for my wife.”

Jacques called and asked if I would be willing to work with him.  He wanted to understand the effects of murder on people and their families.  He felt it was a missing part of his education in working with prisoners.  Jacques wanted me to tell my story to him and then again to the prisoners with whom he works.  I felt compelled and agreed.

Jacques and I spent ten hours together in five visits.  Sometimes we sat at my house in the living room where we looked at pictures of Christopher growing up.  Talking about memories from the birthdays, Christmas, Thanksgiving, Chanukah, vacations, homework, and love notes to me.

We also read the criminal file, discussed how one deals with ashes of a loved one, trial transcripts, jury’s and lawyers, judges, memorials, our collective grief and how much Christopher’s sister, girlfriend, friends and I missed him.

On other visits, Jacques and I walked on the beach and ate picnic lunches.  As we sat on a log or a rock, we went over every tiny detail about Christopher’s death, from the moment the sheriff arrived at my door to the present.  We discussed Chris’s young life and the challenges he faced in adulthood.  Talking at such length with Jacques was an emotionally calming experience.  I had not touched many of these memories for years and it felt good to share them so freely.

Spring 2004

After my sessions with Jacques, I was ready to go to San Quentin to share my story with prisoners in a group called Katargeo, a Greek word meaning “freedom from that which binds you,” I Corinthians 13.

Getting into a prison is intimidating.  Accompanied by my prison escort, I went to the first gate, presented my ID to a guard who carried a gun.  I signed in, was approved and went to the next gate to meet another armed guard and pass through a metal detector.  After that gate, I went to another entrance with a guard and gun, signed in, was checked in and approved by the computer, was scanned with a hand-held metal detector, and stamped under the left wrist with the daily stamp.  Then I went into a Sally port ‑ a large cell – where a huge door slams shut with a resounding “clank.”  I was held there until the opposite door opened with another loud “clank,” and I entered another Sally port, which then unlocked and allowed me access into a large open quad.

The meeting room was a dilapidated cement tomb, with barely enough room for all of the prisoners (17) to sit with Jacques, my friend and spiritual advisor, Bill Glenn, and I.  The prisoners, dressed in dark blue jeans and light blue denim shirts, started to fill the room.  As they came in, I introduced myself to each one, looked him in the eye, and shook his hand.  I was surprised to find they all had kind faces.  I told the men that I was surprised by how they looked. “I have to admit, I had an innate prejudice that murderers look mean and ugly.  But I would ask any of you on the street for help with a flat tire and directions.  I want you to know that.”

I slowly told my story of Christopher, including photos and personal tales, over the course of an hour.  As I spoke, I looked at each person’s face around the circle.

I ended with this poem written by Christopher’s girlfriend, Dawn.  I have never made it through this poem with out crying.

I wanted to love you forever

But forever came and went

Cause you were taken by an angel

That God had sent

I’ll never forget your smile

Or the way your green eyes would shine

Whenever you told me you loved me

I wish you wouldn’t have left me behind

Your love was so special

Like nothing I ever knew

I miss hearing your voice

Saying I love you

You filled my life with joy

hope and dreams

But I never dreamed I would lose you

I guess nothing’s ever quite as it seems

I only knew you fro a short while

Yet it seems I knew you my whole life

I loved you with all my heart

And I hoped someday I could be your wife

But now that dream is gone

And so are you

I feel like part of me is missing

And I don’t know what to do

You’ll be in my heart forever

There’s nothing anyone can say or do

To make me forget my memories

My memories of me and you

“It is better to have loved and lost

than never to have loved at all”

I know this phase is true

And I thank God everyday

That I was loved by you

 When I finished, I was in a roomful of men who were not just crying but openly sobbing.  I was moved by their reactions; in fact, I was overwhelmed.

My story is very tough and it hurts.  The men saw the pain I live with every day without my son, Christopher and realized they had created this type of pain for a family, and everyone connected to that family, and everyone connected to everyone connected to that family.  It is the “pebble in the pond” effect and the ripple is far-reaching.  All of them live every day with the knowledge and pain of having taken a person’s life.

To be blunt and brutally honest with people who had something to learn was a healing experience.  I wanted the men in that room to know how all our lives changed the day Christopher was murdered.  How my son would never call again to remind me to make his favorite orange Jell-o dish for Thanksgiving.  How I would never experience the joy of watching him get married and have children.  How I would never feel his hugs or hear him tell me he loved me.

Summer 2005

On one of my visits to Katargeo, I brought Christopher’s quilt into the prison. I told the story of the quilt and how it came to be.  I let each man hold it and feel it as it was passed around the circle.  The men told me they looked at Mt. Tamalpais every day, and now when they looked up at the mountain, they would think of Christopher and me.

Winter 2005

The Katargeo group invited me for their five-year celebration of working together, a meal to be shared right after Thanksgiving.  It was a miracle that the warden approved the meal.  I volunteered to make the Thanksgiving dinner, along with a few other Insight Prison Project volunteers.  There were many rules: no bones, no knives, and no glass.  Bread had to be pre-sliced and pre-buttered.  I was so worried that the food would be cold; it could be delayed at any gate by security.  I put the gravy in a large thermos, determined that if the food was not hot the gravy would be.

The day came.  The room we were assigned to use for our meal was a dank tomb, since condemned, and we had to pass urinals in the hallway to enter.  The walls were chipped and cracked, paint peeled from the ceiling and water leaked from the roof.

We pushed tables together, set them with paper tablecloths and plates, plastic forks, spoons, and glasses.  Then 30 (this included San Quentin staff, Insight Prison Project staff, volunteers and the inmates)of us sat down together for our meal.  We said grace, and what followed was a cook’s dream.  Men piling their plates with home-cooked food after years of eating prison food.  It had been 33 years since some of the men had a home-cooked meal.  I had baked bread, and the men were astounded that I did that for them.  One man had never seen sparkling water and refused to try it.  Another said he had not had fresh meat in 25 years.  We went around the room and listed the things for which we were thankful.

I had to remind myself to breathe.

One man said, “All my family outside have died and this is my family now.  I cannot find the right words to express how much this means to me to sit around a table like a family.”  He was sobbing.

Another said, “This is my idea of what heaven is like when you get there: Everyone is sitting around a table getting along.”

Spring 2006

The 10^th anniversary of Christopher’s death was approaching.  I felt that such a significant anniversary needed to be marked in some way.  I created a memorial card and sent it to 300 people who had weaved through our family’s life.  My immediate family and some close friends came to be with me on the day.  We had breakfast at home, blintzes, one of Christopher’s favorites, and then took the journey to his spot on Mt. Tamalpais, where we scattered rose petals and laughed and cried as we told stories about him.

The next week, I went to see the men of Katargeo.  We sat in a circle in the art room, adorned with artwork done by inmates.  The art made the drab concrete walls more appealing.  Wanting to acknowledge the 10^th anniversary of Christopher’s death, the men went around the room and told me how significant it had been to work with me over the past three years.  One man said, “You taught me that you shouldn’t get upset about the small stuff. I killed my friend because he owed me money.  That should have never bothered me like it did.”

I cried softly and asked myself, “Me? I taught him that?”

Another man said “I only have one word for you….Grace.”  I was in tears and I was humbled.  We don’t often get the opportunity to see how the steps we take in life reverberate through others’ lives, and here were 17 men telling me I made a difference in theirs.

Then one of the prisoners said, “We have a gift for you.”  Already taken aback by their generosity, I was surprised.  Somebody placed a white garbage bag gently on my lap and as I opened it, a quilt revealed itself!  Two men held the quilt so I could read each square.  There were 18 quilt pieces mounted on a large piece of black felt.  All the materials came from somewhere in the prison, fabric from a mattress, a handkerchief, a section of a shirt, even leather from the hobby shop.  I wept, emotionally overwhelmed and grateful for this poignant sharing.

The visit was finished off by an inmate playing “Amazing Grace” on his handmade flute.

Winter 2007

I enrolled in a three-day training course, called the Victim Offender Education Group, offered by the Insight Prison Project.  I had attended many of these groups as part of the victim/survivor panel and felt it was brutal beautiful truth at its best for the healing process.  I felt I have a very unique prospective about the grieving process and wanted to possibly do victim/offender dialogues as a facilitator sometime in the future.  Rochelle Edwards, the creator and facilitator of this innovative restorative justice program called the Victim Offender Education Group (VOEG), uses the principles of Restorative Justice, to facilitate intensive 22 week training for inmates who wish to understand themselves better, how their life experiences and decisions led them to prison and how their crimes have impacted their victim(s), their families and their community.

On the third day of training, we went to San Quentin to meet with inmates (all men) who had been through the course so they could share their learning experiences along with some of their exercises/home work.  One such exercise is called a “letter of permission” (which is not sent because perpetrators can not contact their victim/s).  The perpetrator writes a letter asking for permission to meet with his victim/survivors for a dialogue, explicitly admitting guilt, and expressing feelings of shame and remorse.  When an inmate named Richard read his letter to his victim’s family, I started to cry uncontrollably.  I felt he was addressing me, and when he finished reading the letter I was compelled to go hug him.  It was a totally instinctive act, and it impacted both of us.

At that very moment, I realized, for the first time, that I needed to know that Mark Taylor could also express his remorse and accountability.  I wanted to know if he could also feel the pain that he caused for our family.  I needed to know if he was human enough to feel it also.  That day I started on the path to have a one-on-one victim/offender dialogue with Mark James Taylor, which Rochelle Edwards agreed to facilitate.

Richards’s letter follows with the victim/survivor names omitted (with his permission).

 To All the Members and Relatives of the _________ Family,

            I am writing this letter of permission to you, with prayers, hoping you can consider meeting with me.

            I know that due to my actions, I created an immense amount of pain, despair, and disharmony for the entire family as well as many others.  I am writing you in hopes of obtaining your permission to meet with you.  When we meet, I would be willing to agree to provide any and all answers to any questions you need to have answered.  I pray that you give me the opportunity to speak directly to you so I can properly apologize and express how sorry I am for all the damage I have inflicted.  I am truly remorseful for violating the peace of your family and loved ones.

            I pray that this letter does not, in any way, offend you or cause anyone any concern, pain, anguish, or disharmony.  I do not want to add to what I caused.  To the contrary, my intention is to express how ashamed I am for the role I took in this horrendous incident.  What I did was completely wrong and I had no right to harm Mr. ________., a loved and respected family man, or anyone else for that matter.

            I prostrate myself before you and God and ask for His mercy and for your permission to meet so I can say how deeply sorry I am for hurting the family.  It would be a privilege and the greatest honor for me to be able to respond and answer any and all questions that you or anyone in the family might have.  Again, I want to reiterate, it is totally in your hands whether or not to participate in this meeting.

            I apologize if I have disrupted your life or caused anyone any discomfort; this is not my intention.  I just believe you should have the chance to vent your feelings and to have the opportunity to say anything you want to me.  God knows, I have already caused enough harm, and I sure don’t want to ever cause anyone any harm.

Sincerely, Richard _______________

A few months later Richard said, “Radha, when I read my letter of permission and afterwards you hugged me, it was the first time I truly felt human in over twenty six years”.

After Christopher died I was in shock for three months.  I felt like I was living in a jar separated from the rest of the world.  Despite my shock and overwhelming sadness, I intuitively knew “I wanted to live!”  I was not going to kill myself.  I had so many other reasons to be alive.  I needed to be strong for my daughter, who is alive.  I enjoy a very close family; I want always to be there for them.  I was “in love” with Gary and was loved back.  I wanted to be part of and experience it all.

 I also knew I did not want to have another child.  Christopher was irreplaceable.  And I was getting older.  I was forty-one and did not want to bring a baby into the world in the aftermath of Christopher’s death.

 Even though I functioned fairly well, for a long time after Christopher’s death, my thinking was slow.  I was very aware of this thick see-through coating, which was the result of deep shock and intense grief.  When it lifted, it felt like a long deep breath.  I felt lighter.  I was so grateful to be aware and know I was recovering, just a little bit.

 When your world is blown up, you notice more.  I became hyper-sensitive to everything.  I had always appreciated the important moments in life and had a solidly grounded perspective.  Now, in addition, I became very aware of how precious our time together is.  Small moments of joy gave me hope and I looked for “comfort” in any place that offered—even though I didn’t always take the offer.

 Many parents who have been through the trauma of losing a child come to a realization of what is important to them and become more open to pursuing what matters.  They no longer allow the small stresses to ruin their day.  Instead, they want to enter fully significant moments.  Some garden, some volunteer, some spend more time with their elderly parents, and some begin writing.  Embracing the new activity comes from a desire to see and feel joy from wherever possible.

In addition to realizing how precious every moment of life is, I grew open to unconventional experiences, moments and thoughts.  When something unexpected happened, I didn’t try to push it away.  Instead, I embraced what came my way.

 A couple of weeks before Christopher was killed, Michael, a friend of my mother’s (who had passed many years before) was in my neighbor’s yard doing landscape design.  I invited him over for coffee.  As we chatted, I learned that his partner’s (his partner has passed) parent’s home, which they had bought from my mother in Bolinas–where I had lived until first grade–was open for a major remodel.  He arranged for me to see the house.  I had not been back since I was a small child.  We made a date in a couple of week’s time.

 This turned out to be my first trip out of my own home after Christopher had been murdered, and I felt like my mother had arranged the meeting.  After seeing the house, I felt compelled to call and visit some other friends of my mother’s, in Tomales Bay.  Amazingly, they had years of her journals, which I didn’t even know existed (my mother had died 21 years earlier).  Before she died, my mother had told me to be in touch with these friends, and it had taken me all these years to listen.  When these friends gave me my mother’s journals, I had the feeling she had planned things that way. 

 Perhaps my most comforting “vision,” came to me after the sheriff arrived to tell me Christopher had been murdered: I saw Christopher falling into my mother’s arms.  She was sitting with her best friend, Shirley, who had died recently.  This vision was not a surprise; my mother strongly believed in the “other side’ and felt if it was “really important,” communication was possible.  Then, that evening I was in bed alone and had another vision.  This time it was Christopher hovering in the corner of the room like an angel. “Mom, I am fine,” he said.  Seeing this helped me relax and fall asleep.  There was no doubt in my mind it was Christopher.

 I am not alone in having these unusual experiences.  I have had conversations with many parents who tell me about “other worldly” events after their child passes.  I remember two parents in my Compassionate Friends (http://www.compassionatefriends.org) group whose son was a DJ.  The night he died, after the hospital ordeal, his parents were settled in bed and all his DJ equipment suddenly came on.  It was his way of sending his parents a message.

 I understand that even reading about these experiences may push boundaries for some people.  Before Christopher’s death, I was not aware of these moments and these possibilities.  It took the death of my son for me to see and accept such happenings.  My husband, Gary also opened up to this expanded universe.  He and I even shared one such moment.

 We were driving on the California coast, and pulled over to take a walk on the beach.  Just as I was starting to get out of the car, Gary said, “Wait. I don’t like this parking spot; I am going to move.”  There were no cars in front of us or behind, but we changed spots.  Just as we did, a driver ran off the road – exactly where we had been minutes earlier.  We think he fell asleep.  He woke up and corrected in time to save himself, but if we had not moved our car, there would have been a terrible accident.  When this happened, Gary and I looked at each other and both said, “Christopher!”

One year, (they blend together) Christopher’s friend Gideon, who had been very close to him, called me.  He said “I had a dream and Christopher told me I had to come and see you right way!”  Gideon shared that he had come because he felt like I was in trouble and needed help from him.  But as soon as he saw me, he knew the reason he had come was for himself.  His life was full of great difficulties and he needed to be with me.

 Another year after Christopher was murdered; Gary and I took a guided hike out to Point Bonita Lighthouse near the Golden Gate Bridge.  Our docent was very informed and we were having a really good time.  His name tag had been hidden, but when it was uncovered, I realized that this was a friend of my mother’s whom I had been searching for!!  Tom is now part of our family; he and his partner have Thanksgiving with us every year (smile).

 Most of these extraordinary events took place when I was alone or with a loved one.  Then in 2008, Karen Peterson, a medium who specializes in the bereaved, offered a group of parents the opportunity to meet with her (http://www.karenpeterson.org).  My daughter and I attended.

 We all sat with Karen in a large circle in a community room.  She began by explaining that she believes that when a person passes, his/her energy vibrations change from slow to fast.  To communicate with the other side, we must speed up our energy vibrations, while those who have passed must slow down theirs.  To align those of us in the circle, Karen meditated for a few minutes, then opened her eyes and told us that those who have passed are always with us, “So if you think they are communicating with you, they are.”

 “There are three ways I connect with your loved ones,” Karen further explained.  “Your loved ones come to me visually, which is clairvoyant.  They also come auditorially, which is clairaudiant and I also can feel them, which is clairsentiant.”

 Once Karen explained this to us, she said, “There are so many kids behind me who want to get in here tonight, I hope we have time for them all.”  Then she turned her head and announced, “There’s a young woman here who misses leaving notes in the jewelry box for her mother.”

 This kind of message is called a validation; it helps people know it is their child or loved one who is present.  The information it offers is something only the parent or loved on would know.  In this case, the mother, who was present, and her daughter, who was deceased, used to communicate by leaving notes in the mother’s jewelry box when she was not home.  When Karen spoke, the young woman’s mother and father knew immediately that their daughter was present.  Their daughter had died as a result of years of self-abuse (drug and alcohol) and wanted to thank her parents for never giving up on her.  She also said to them that there was noting more they could have done, that she loved them dearly and wanted them not to feel guilty.

 Christopher showed up near the end of the session, with his ever-present humor.  But even before he showed up, I had begun feeling very graceful and patient, realizing that if Christopher did not communicate with us that evening, I would still be fulfilled because the smile on the other parents’ faces made me so happy.

 As I sat listening, feeling quiet and reflective, Karen asked, “Who here has a connection to chocolate milkshakes?”

 Christina and I laughed.  It was Christopher; we used to have contests to see who could make the best chocolate milkshakes (secret is a dash of nutmeg).

 “I don’t care if you gain 20 pounds,” Karen relayed.  “You haven’t had a milkshake since I died.  Go have one.”

 “This one is real funny!” Karen said.  “That means he is very comfortable where he is.”

 Then, “Was there something about an argument?” Karen asked.

 Christina shared that the last time she saw Christopher they argued.

“Is he holding on to that?” she asked.

“Of course not; let it go,” Christopher assured through Karen.

 Then Karen asked, “Is there an important person named Beth, maybe on this side?”

 “Yes, that is my mother on earth,” I replied.

 This is a validation point,” Karen confirmed.

 Is his name written on something with a bear?  Karen asked.

 “The quilt I had made about his life,” I answered.

 “That means a lot to him, really.”  Then Karen asked, “Who is writing?”

 Christina responded that she journaled in the months after Christopher was killed.

 “That’s not it.”  Karen replied.

 ”I’ve been working on an essay for a year,” I told Karen.

 Through Karen, Christopher told me, “Keep writing and I will be with you.  This will help people and that is your purpose.  It is very important that you keep doing it.”

 The very next evening, Gary and I went out and had chocolate milkshakes and toasted Christopher.  They tasted delicious!

 Christopher continues to be very present in my life.  Recently, I had a health scare.  I was rushed for a biopsy, then had to wait for several days to learn the results.  The waiting was very hard.  During that time, I had a dream one night that I was on the phone with Christopher.  I said “What are you doing?”

He replied, “Thinking about catching a plane to Honolulu.”

 “Why don’t you just come home?” I asked. Then I felt someone standing by my bedside.  I opened my eyes from a very deep sleep and Christopher was there.  “Thank you!” I screamed, waking up Gary and the cat with a start “It was Christopher!”  I told him.

 After that, I knew the biopsy was going to be fine.  And it was.

 One of the gifts with death for me is that I have become receptive to whatever may come my way.  I feel like I have open arms and that my willingness to receive will give my life more choice and gifts.  If I could change one thing in my life, I would ask for my son back, but I know that is not possible.  So I wish to live as well as I possibly can and help others along my way.