When you just lost someone, the memories hurt like hell. You try so hard to erase all the memories, because you can't stand the pain. You pray for amnesia, because maybe that will help you move on. Everywhere you go, everything you do, reminds you of the person you lost. After a while the pain eases a little bit and for the first time the memories make you smile.

My (second) mom passed away almost a year ago. I am planning to go see her son, my dear friend Brett, pretty soon. Brett has spent the last 13 years on death row for a crime he did not commit.
When I arrive in the States, she won't pick me up from the airport. She won't be smoking Richmond cigarettes and won't buy us donuts for our afternoon coffee. She won't be watching Law and Order in the kitchen. She won't say she needs to put her face on before going out (God how that always made me smile). She won't put her arms around me and tell me she loves me.

Mom was one of the strongest women I have ever known. Her heart was bigger than the state she lived in. There were so many beautiful things about her that defined the person she was. Even in time of darkness, she still had hope. She never gave up the fight to free Brett. I admire her beyond words. In every way, she is the definition of my hero.

Writing this brings back memories. It makes me smile, but cry at the same time.  No one can ever take away the moments we shared and all the beautiful memories I have of her. I only wish there would have been more memories. I wish you were still here mom. God how I miss you.

I know it will hurt like hell to go back without her being there. She ended her last email to me with " Luv you little one.. Mom". The last time I saw mom, she told me I would always have a family there to come home to.

So mom I'm coming home.

Ria

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Misunderstood by many, loved by more. She had her own thoughts and opinions. When she let someone in, it would be completely. She was a woman of few words; she didn’t feel the need to talk to people if it didn’t matter. I considered her a strong woman with a fragile soul. The first time I met her, I stayed at her house because I came to visit her brother Brett, who’s on death row in Ohio. I remember mom  (Ria and Brett’s mother) warned me that I shouldn’t go downstairs without Ria inviting me. She explained that Ria was a private person and didn’t like people to invade her space and privacy. After a few days she invited me and at a certain point she told me to just come down whenever I wanted. Mom was very surprised and told me she didn’t do that easily and that this means she really liked me and had accepted me. I felt honored, I really did. From that moment our relationship was different, closer. She opened up to me and at night we had long talks about a lot of things. One of the talks we had was about Brett. I loved the way how she would start a conversation.

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A lot of people beat around the bush for a while, before actually coming to the point. Ria wasn’t like that. We were watching TV when she just out of the blue said: “You must think I’m a lousy sister for visiting Brett only once a year.” I looked at her, somewhat surprised by what she just said. I told her I didn’t think that. “But you came all the way from the Netherlands to see Brett and I live an hour away from him and only see him once a year.” I replied: “You know, I don’t have any judgment about that and I really think you have your reasons for it. And you cannot compare our situations; I chose to write Brett, knowing he was on death row. You didn’t choose this situation; you were just thrown into it. I had a choice, you didn’t.” She looked at me in silence for a moment. At that moment I could see her face opening up. It was like she showed me her soul. I could hear the tremble in her voice when she said:” It breaks my heart when I see him in there. I just want to yell at all those people that he doesn’t belong on death row. I want to break the glass between us and take him home. I cannot bring myself to go there every week, because I cannot deal seeing him shackled in prison. So once a year I take a few beers to build my courage and go.” I could see the pain and sadness in her eyes and I knew how difficult it had been for her. I was thankful she opened up to me and showed me her fragile side. She had been judged on her actions so many times already, but she was so much more than meets the eye. If you would make the effort to know her, you would see the beautiful person she was.

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When mom told me I was now part of the family and that she now considered me as one of her children, I was moved beyond words. It moved me even more when Ria came up to me and said: “So now you’re my sister.” Ria wasn’t a person to express her emotions and feelings easily, but when she did, you knew it really meant something. If she felt comfortable she could just keep on talking. We would sit downstairs for hours with Sierra and Kara and reminisce about the old days. She had great stories to tell and would bring them with such humor. When it was time for me to leave to the Netherlands again, she gave me a quick hug and one tear rolled over her cheek. A few weeks later I called her and as always she was a woman of few words. We talked for a bit and just when we were about to hang up she said:” I miss you.”  I will never meet another Ria, there is just no one like her. She was unique in every way and I feel so blessed that I had the privilege of being in her life. We have had some great moments; thinking about it makes me smile, because she was such a fun person to be around once she trusted you.

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It has been six months since she passed away, but I know she is in a better place now looking down on her daughter and her grandson, making sure they are ok. Somehow she could never find the peace when she was alive, so I hope she found peace now.
I love you Ria. Bula says hi.