July 14, 2025
When you think of July, you often think of celebration. It’s a month filled with dazzling fireworks, delicious food, and delightful festivals. July is joy. I used to see July in that same light, but this year is different; instead, July has been steeped in sorrow’s dark hue.
Why?
Because on July 28, 2024, John died. He didn’t just die; someone murdered him.
Previously, whenever I referred to death, I always used the term “passed away.” However, this term doesn’t seem appropriate for my son’s death.
“Pass away” is a gentler, less direct way of saying someone has died and fits the many losses I have suffered over the years. My mother and grandfather passed away from colon cancer. Daddy passed away from COPD. My father-in-law passed away from brain cancer. Both of my grandmothers passed away from old age.
But John didn’t just pass away; Miller the Killer murdered him. A callous, cold-blooded killer used a gun to extinguish his life most unnaturally. This direct language may seem harsh to some, but for me, it’s a way of acknowledging the reality of what happened to my son. Murder is a violent act that steals a life and leaves behind immense pain and injustice.
That’s the truth in a nutshell.
When I lost my parents, I had the chance to say goodbye, but John’s murderer stole that sacred moment away.
As I reflect on today, I can’t help but think about this time last year. John was alive and well, enjoying life and contemplating his future. He had no idea that in just two weeks, multiple gunshots would take him away from us, and he would never see another day.
And neither did I.
So today, I find myself drowning in tears.
If I could wave a magic wand, July would disappear.
And John would still be here.
Comments
2 responses to “July”
I have tears in my eyes as I write this. I’ve been reading your blog since the beginning and this post moved me so much.
I understand your pain because myson was murdered too. His life was cut short in July 2022.
You have a wonderful way of expressing exactly how I feel but can never find the words to say.
Thank you for having the courage to be so vulnerable during the most painful time of your life.
I’m sure your son is very proud of you.
God Bless.
Thank you for sharing this with me, Nicole.
It means so much to me. This road we travel is not for the faint of heart.
It always helps to know we are not alone. Your response has reassured me of this.
July is extremely hard for both of us and I’ll keep you in my prayers.
God bless you, too.