15 months later...

this 15 months later, I bake a cake and reflect on life without these grandchildren. The children stolen, living a different life, with a "new daddy" who is a lie. The mommy lives a lie. She holds and loves her children and you wonder how she can speak words of love and words of evil to her babies. How does she sleep at night with the evil secrets in her heart? How does she live knowing that the son in Heaven sees and knows and understands that his momma has done this terrible thing to his daddy? The family is a fragile thing in today's world, much more so than I could have imagined. I had no idea that an angry spouse could cry abuse and a family court system would tear father from child with no thought to hearts broken. Nights not slept. Arms aching for the child unforgettable. Not much care about truth. The man must be the monster, they think. But why? Can't a woman tell a lie? Is a mother who is angry and mourning a dead child not capable of dreaming up a means to punish the parent she deems responsible? So she commits murder of the family, smash a father's heart, crush his spirit, make him pay for her sick, sick heart! Its a perfect crime, and the "justice system" in America plays along. The days pass and you pray and you hope, and you wonder when the pain will end. You think surely someone, someone will see the lies for what they are. The revenge. The hatred and the need for justice, for truth. Pain ebbs, lessens, then a jellybean discovered left behind in a kettle brings all pain back and you remember. You remember. And so 15 months later, we still mourn. We still cry and we still have lost. Tragically, the children lost too. They will grow up and wonder, "Why did my daddy leave me?" "Wasn't I good enough for him?" "Will I be like him when I grow up?" Children do that. They look inward, take on blame, assume the worst. And the crime goes on. The family is torn. The children mourn. All their lives.