Joyce A Lefler: From Miracle to Murder: Justice for Adam

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A meeting was held quite far from Earth!
It’s time again for another birth.
Said the Angels to the LORD above,
This Special Child will need much love.

His progress may be very slow,
Accomplishments he may not show.
And he’ll require extra care
From the folks he meets down there.

He may not run or laugh or play,
His thoughts may seem quite far away,
In many ways he won’t adapt,
And he’ll be known as handicapped.

So let’s be careful where he’s sent,
We want his life to be content.
Please LORD, find the parents who
Will do a special job for you.

They will not realize right away
The leading role they’re asked to play,
But with this child sent from above
Comes stronger faith and richer love.

And soon they’ll know the privilege given
In caring for their gift from Heaven.
Their precious charge, so meek and mild,
Is HEAVEN’S VERY SPECIAL CHILD.

by Edna Massionilla
December 1981

With invisible fingers, 

I touch your tears, whisper, 

let you know I am near. 

in the dark, as you struggle with another nightmare,

as you now battle for your freedom, your life and my sister's,

rescue her. Fight. 

It will be alright.

Against the odds and the accusations, 

you are innocent.

Before I was born, 

you created for me

a world of laughter, of love.

When I felt your heart beat, 

you shared with me,

a safe lullaby for sleep.

You were my safe, nurturing haven against the devastating news of Cornelia de Lange Syndrome.  

Your arms and kisses, 

were my unconditional advocate.

Mommy, not your fault.

Not knowing what was to come, 

not complicit in the terror, 

monster hid in the costume of a friend.

It was a moment of fear, of pain.

I wish I could have stayed. 

I had no choice. I had to let go.

You would have defended me, I know. 

The journey of terror pulled our souls to other worlds.

Know this in the continuum of time, 

I will always remember,

that your love, your joy, your hope, 

 gave me the courage to

go forward in my journey into joy.

Mommy, when your life’s work is over,

when your heart and soul know it's time go home,

I will touch your tears,

whisper, let you know I am near. 

I’m only, ever, a breath away. 

To mommy, Love forever,

Adam

Your miracle elf child

All I want to know is joy.

I yearn to be five again some way, 

to know innocence, pure and hope, uncrushed. 

I desire to relive the moment before  time was lost and my fate was sealed by stalking Evil.

I crave to lick ice cream off a stick and not worry about dripping it on the couch.

I want to play in a sloppy puddle of mud, throw myself into a crunchy pile of leaves as they fall, draw funny chalk figures on a sidewalk and believe again that I can change the future.

I hunger to feast on fresh baked brownies and solid chocolate Easter bunnies because they melt brown sweet and good in my mouth and fill both my eyes and tummy.

I long to play in the sun without thinking of wrinkles, fill scrapbooks and boxes of memories with the reds, blues, greens and purples of pipe cleaner reindeer and then tie them up with ribbons that twizzle and sparkle with silvery glitter.

I wish to return to a time when life and joy were simple,  doors and windows could be left unlatched, neighbors were safe havens, strangers were not a danger, the use of drugs consisted of two aspirin and, “Call me in the morning,” trust between friends was never violated and play was freedom during a light spring drizzle.

I need to believe that everyone tells only the truth,  and children aren’t treated like dolls made of rags and thrown against walls when they’re labeled, “imperfect.”

I ache to hope that anything is possible, nightmares aren’t real and birthday wishes come true.

I strive to be oblivious to the atrocities of life, inspired over the beauty of the earth, the crisp scent of a season’s shower or the powdery formations of the mists in a cloud.

I request the world not consist of deception, depressing news, illness or broken, abandoned hearts, the inconceivable theft of one child or the violent murder of another.

I pray one day I’ll kiss, caress, tuck my children’s’ children into their beds and teach them their prayers to my God who never forsake me. 

I choose to believe in the power of forgiveness, truth, justice, hope, reconciliation, man, child and woman kind, and listening to my little boy angel as he whispers ever near me.

I offer my soul, my heart, my brain, bared for all to judge, to see and to read, my bones gnarled from the battles from PTSD nightmare dreams.

When God’s will be done, the last page of my life is full and written and when breathing is no longer a glorious rhythm,  I’ll turn to my gentle miracle elf of a child who was so brutally murdered by a monster of evil and sigh,

“Bereavement has been my haunted cross. I’ve grieved you, missed you, kept your memory alive.  I’m ready now.  Take my hand, lead the way, I’ll be joining you ... today …”
From Adam's mommy, forever