My Impact statement

I still remember the way my son smelled 18 years ago when tjey laid him on my chest. The day he was born he looked up at me with his big brown eyes. Now, I remember the way he smelled when they pulled me off his chest and I took one long last look at my son, eight months ago. That moment will have to last a lifetime because I will never see my son again. I will never hear him call my name down the hall. I will never hear our home filled with his laughter as he played with his sisters
I will never know the joy of watching him become a man. I spent so many years of my life teaching him how to be a great husband, father and hero. All of those years of love; I will never have the joy of seeing it unfold. I will miss the joy of seeing him with his wife. I will not dance with him at his wedding. I won’t see my son hold his son . I will not know the joy of watching him walk his little sisters down the aisle. That was Timothy’s role in our family, he was my only son. My daughter’s children will not have a uncle. He was my only son.
The box of baby clothes that he wore his first three months of life that I have lovingly preserved to give to his wife, so that his son could come home from the hospital in the same clothes his father had, Is a memory that exists only in my mind; a hope that has died. Every tradition is forever changed. From his stocking that now hangs empty to future Thanksgivings where I will always see an empty chair. I did not just lose a son, my family lost man of our house, hero, and my best friend. He will not be here to take care of me when I am old. He will not be here when I need him for all of the things that a mother often hands off to her son. Family traditions and responsibilities that I once built, and intended to pass them on to him…those things have forever been altered, or are gone completely.
Timothy was a friend to everyone. He did not know what the word stranger meant. If he didn’t know your name, it only meant an opportunity to make a new friend. If you didn’t have a friend, that was an even greater opportunity for Timothy. He spent summers playing with the little boys up the road who didn’t have anyone. He brought them down to jump on the trampoline. He taught them respect. He would laugh with them, but if they did something out of line he was quick to reprimand them and teach them the tenets of respect and integrity.
His little sisters were his most precious responsibility. He took being their hero and friend very seriously, He protected them at all costs; teaching them that it was possible to be loved by a man that would not hurt you. He spent hours talking to them about what they should require from their husbands. It was very important to Timothy that all of his sisters found men that would cherish and respect them the way he did. Who will teach them this now?
He talked often about marrying his first love, He could not wait for Jason to be the best man at his wedding and growing old with her someday referring to her as “the wife of his youth.” He talked about the babies they would have. They would have her blue eyes and blonde hair and his sense of humor and sense of adventure. He could not wait to be a man. It was as if every moment he had lived was leading up to the future that was just within his reach. Timothy could not wait to serve our country, defend our rights. He was ready to take a stand for what he believed ,to be part of something bigger than himself. Timothy’s loyalty to his family, country, and God was something I have never seen in a 17 year old boy.
Now most of my days are spent reminiscing on what was, or facing the harsh reality of what will never be. I never know it until I am standing in it…whether it is as big as never dancing with him at his wedding or as small as never hearing his car come up the driveway. His voice echoes in my everyday life. Most days I push on because it is what I know he would expect me to do. because I love his sisters. I do it because I know it would make him proud, but rarely do I do it because I want to. Some mornings, the first thought I have is, “I don’t have a son.” I’m 39 years old. I can’t have any more children and I don’t have another son. Timothy was my only chance for all the hopes and dreams you put in your son. Some days it takes me 20 minutes just to convince myself to roll out of bed and put my feet on the floor. There are days I am only breathing because it’s an involuntary reaction. I am not choosing to do it. The pain of losing a child comes from a place that was not meant to be exposed. This pain has no name. The place that is exposed when your child dies is so raw that time will not heal this wound. You find that people are afraid of the harsh reality that is trapped within your soul, something so heart wrenching that makes it difficult for them to make eye contact. Perhaps they fear that my reality could become theirs, or perhaps they just cannot bear to stand and watch. Either way, you find that everyone tends to slowly, quietly disappear.
Now, I am supposed to write an impact statement. My task is to describe how the actions of someone else and their decisions changed my life forever? It seems literally impossible for me to help you understand how truly changed I have become. Every day there seems to be some new painful event that stretches the hole that Timothy’s death left in my life. The hole left behind by his death only seems to only grow more massive and more powerful with time..
Sometimes a thin membrane protects me from the hole, the pain I am plagued with is something I am able to carry. Then something so small will happen, like Dino egg oatmeal is on sale, and I find that I have fallen into the hole. I am holding on to the edge, hanging by a thin thread. There is so much of me that wants to just let go, but there is the part of me that knows I can not do that. That is not a choice. I have to pull myself out of the hole stand back up and walk through the pain. I suppose only a mother can imagine my realityGiven all of this, I am somehow supposed to tell of you how I have been impacted by the choices of another. I am told so very often that just meeting me, or seeing me for the first time after Timothy’s death changed them. So many people have told me that they have never seen raw pain so evident in another human being.
Tori had sent texts to 3 boys that morning. It was her plan to take someone on a joy ride that raining cold March afternoon in her new race car. Timothy just happened to be the first to respond. The parents of the other two boys tell me they have a hard time looking at me. They see me and think “I have a son, because she does not!” Tori made a choice, and Timothy is dead because of her choice! She was the last person to hear Timothy laugh and she was the last one to talk to him. The last one to share a story, exchange a look or have a moment. I have waited and wondered every day, every hour, for eight months for her to show anything… remorse, regret, loss, sadness, sympathy, empathy, reality… I have seen nothing. I have tried, but to no avail.
I have to ask myself…What messages are we sending the hundreds of teens in our community? You get some community service and a few years without a driver’s license!? The death toll of teen drivers in our county continues to rise. They are not learning anything! This is part of the problem and it is why they continue to make the same choices. In my opinion, I you take a life you should NEVER drive again! This is a more realistic consequence. Maybe this will make them stop and think before they choose to speed around on our dangerous country roads.
Tori has had no natural consequences. Her parents moved her to Arizona a few weeks after. She has not had to face the 700 people who attended his memorial. She did not have to see his empty seat in the classes they shared. She did not have to see his grieving friends. She was not there for the many dedications, tributes, and other things that were done to honor Timothy. She did not have to drive by the crash site everyday on her way home anymore. She didn’t walk with her class at graduation, so she missed when I accepted Timothy’s diploma on his behalf. I’m told the sound from the applause could be heard from blocks away. Every one of his classmates and everyone in the seats and bleachers above us stood as I held his diploma high in the air and took that long walk for him. Tori has never had to look into the eyes of the first responders, who were all forever changed.
Jessica Staggers and her family were first on scene. It is her account that she pleaded with Timothy to hold on. She held his hand as he gasped on his own blood. Tori sat down on the curb and her first words were about disappointing her dad, wrecking her brand new car, and how disappointed her dad would be. She did not inquire about Timothy, and she did not ask if he was alive. She showed not concern for his survival. Jessica and her family cannot get the images out of their minds. She and her husband have both had to seek counseling to work through the impact of this horrific day and the images that were burned in their minds. Images of my son and his last moments . Mike Hardy, the battalion chief and also a family friend must have been horrified the moment he realized the call he was on was my son? The sheriff/coroner Deputy and Marine Core veteran,served seven years in front line combat and has had to take an indefinite leave of absence do to the trauma and impact my son’s death had him. He held me up as I saw Timothy’s lifeless body lying on the table; he had to peel me off the gurney when it was time to let go. He says he has many calls far worse, but there was something about the look in my eyes when I pleaded with him to do something, to please save me son, that has impacted him in a way that he no longer wants to do this job. The nurse, who was there when they brought Timothy in, has told me that she never once left his side. He came in DOA, but something about my boy reached the mother in her and she could not leave his side. She told me as she gently bathed him, prayed over him, and prayed for his mother who was on her way and thought of her own son…what if this was him? What if it were her making the drive to Marshall Hospital? As she gently washed the blood off his face , held his hand and waited for his mother, she said she was forever changed. When I got there, she looked me in the eyes and said, “He was never alone. I never left his side. I stayed with him until you could get here. I loved on him until you could.” She wanted me to know that my baby boy was never alone. She handed him to me and took a three week leave of absence because the trauma from Timothy’s death. It was more than she could handle. I am told that everyone involved that day, including the doctor that signed his death certificate and the Chaplin that had to give the news, were forever changed by the death of Timothy Mulholland.
My life will never be the same. No one will ever fill this hole, and the woman I once was is gone. There are days I wake up and look in the mirror; I do not recognize the woman looking back at me. Eight months ago I had a son and all the hopes and dreams that come with it. I had a son with a future so bright, many could only hope to achieve. I feel honored to have been his mother, to be a part of someone whose light was so bright that everyone who came in contact with his life was changed for the better.
I try to never go to bed angry at my children; to always tell them I love them; to cry when they cry; to laugh when they laugh, if I cant to enjoy the sounds they create and to take one long last look before I drive away because it may be my last. I live in constant fear that I’ll get the call AGAIN. If my girls are 10 min late I assume they are dead. Panic sets in immediately. I can no longer reason with my self that they are just late, Everything is fine… They don’t have service. I wake screaming Timothy name! Crying un controllably still 8 months later. The images in my dreams are horrific of his last moments! Maybe someday the person I will become will be someone who would make Timothy proud; stronger for what I have survived but Ask me how I have been impacted right now and that is what I can tell you. In everything I do, I leave a piece of Timothy or bring a piece of Timothy…remember a piece of Timothy or share a piece of Timothy. I need to know this has effected Tori! I need to know is she desires to walk along side me AND do something great in his name, even if it only saves ONE teenager. Even if we can cause one parent to rethink buying their child a car that has the speed capability such as a Nissan 350 Z! Can one life be saved by my story?