Every Step I Take

It's four in the morning and I can't sleep
I toss and I turn my mind wants to think
In my heart I know the steps I have to make
I know it's important for every step I take

To much to process in the still of the night
I pray for some rest as I see the sunlight
In my mind I know the steps I have to make
I know it's vital for every step I take

A breath of fresh air could help me today
I cry out to God to show me the way
In my soul I know the steps I have to make
I know it's dedication for every step I take

I am deep in a valley but  have the mountain view
In a panic state I search for you or the clue
I bend till I'm broken but still feel no pain
The item I seek is my secret and true gain
Like a heart that beats steady I continue on
Standing faceless to realize only your gone
I struggle to climb  just to feel the wind blow
Falling done time after time but I still have to go
Blinded by glaring pathways I see ahead
Finally to the resting place that you said

Monica Caison
Honor of Austin Davis

You Can Make the Change

In the past few days I have been reminder of how life is not secure and the very fabric of what we believe in can shatter without warning or notice of any kind. I have learned and witnessed that justice is serve to those who are elected at that time, and that time only! But why is this? We as the community do have a voice, and the right to be a voice, so why are we stopped by others who do not agree; more importantly why don't they agree? I find myself looking out a window and my mind flows far away as I drift through memory after memory trying to locate an answer. I found none.

My conclusion, their are just people who live life only if they can feed on others and rip away slowly at what people believe just for the pure satisfaction of feeling accomplished, if that can even make any sense. So, I throw the file across the room in a fit of anger and curse all those who are responsible, it's not always those who caused the initial crime either, it is those who are all responsible. Later, picking up my mess, I begin to read as I sit on the floor finding things that make me recall why the missing are so important and need the help, I find myself ashamed for doubting myself and for a moment loosing my voice, maybe even my will; it won't happen again.

Someone sent me this song attached to a missing persons slide show and as I listen to the words and melody I recovered strength once again. No one has the right to try to change the facts and mask the truth. This is what crime is all about, the criminal silencing the victim, so what do we call others who bring forth silence? If you get a chance, listen.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eFXRQKYFbXE&feature=kp

Then I laugh, moments later someone did a post saying something like "Throw me to the wolves and I will return with the pack", I guess that is somewhat true when your fighting for the victim. This is what people will not understand when families of the missing feel like they are losing the battle for their loved one, they owe nothing to anyone; those who are guest on the journey of a case are human and forget they are a guest. Yes, something to think about.

T - Teamwork
R - Resolution
U - Unity
S - Sacrifice
T - Truth

I was taught to always believe that the truth was first and by far most important, so my thought today is why then when the truth comes forth do so many begin to run around in circles to find a dark place to tuck it away? Truth cannot be forbidden, can it?

Instantly, I am reminded of the game of bowling...you ask what? Yes, where the ball rolling comes and knocks every pin down, the one pin is standing alone to shine under the light for like two seconds; then all of a sudden here comes the metal piece knocking that one pin over and pushing it back to the pile, never to be noticed again until the next round. I realize briefly these pins belong together or the game would not exist and furthermore they are all alike, none different. It reminds me somewhat of people and life's lessons.

Then, I think of the players concept of the win. The players objective is to keep knocking those pins down just to achieve points ultimately to win, right? Here's the question I have, no matter how many times the player continues to knock down the pins do they not realize the pins get reassembled and come back again, time after time? So thinking about this game, I wonder is it points a person desires? Is it the challenge of knocking them down which becomes the thrill? This is truly something one day I hope to understand. I never have liked that game.

Well, I guess I will close with a quote and oath I took in life.
“I offer myself to those who have nowhere else to turn. These desperate people who ask for my help have unique situations. Yet, however unique, they are bound together with the commonality of being the loved one of a missing person.” Monica Caison 

Not everyone's garden of peace

There were no church bells ringing, escort of recognition for Elisha Tucker as her family drove themselves to the graveside memorial on May 24, 2014. You see Elisha was a reported missing person and that was all. Her family struggled to find her, knowing something was wrong when all communication had stopped. Their were no calls from authorities with updates, no massive searches conducted for her whereabouts and nothing on the news. This is the raw truth.

Many people are reported missing each day and so many fall in the deep crack of being labeled an adult missing person, this is truly harmful. We have to do better, we have to listen, and we have to pay attention to all missing individuals. A need for importance of the simple value of human life desires the attention for empathy, no matter the circumstances of the persons life or the disappearance. The mere fact that someone is absent and people who know them the best and love them unconditionally, must play a factoring role in our quest. 

Although Elisha's farewell was small the broken feeling you felt for those left behind to endure was great. The casket was showered with photo collages and flowers of all colors. The words presented to us were about making a change in ones life, family and love. A bitterness still floated in the air for her loved ones as she was found simply by chance and only because police were looking for another missing woman in a almost closed landscaping field. But was it by chance? No, she deserved to be found and I am sure many walked away with a life lesson that day. We all have to matter, we all are loved by someone, we all need to be found, but more importantly "all need to be searched for". 

Elisha is the mother of five and who adored her children, she loved her close nit family and had a great deal of caring friends. She loved to dress up and wear lots of colors. Many spoke of her trusting nature, I stood in silence but wondering if that had contributed to her trusting the wrong person, the person who murdered her. The hugs, caring words I received for taking the time to care and help the family stuck in my throat as a dry spot for a reply. I had only got the case in March when her mother showed up to our annual event with her other daughter so fragile you could barley stand to watch it in real time. Shaking, fighting back tears, clinging on to her daughters arm, she sought me out at our national conference hosted for missing persons. Once I saw the condition of her pain I immediately found other mothers to comfort her, one mother, Janeane embraced her and from that moment on never let her go, even when she returned up north to her home. 

As I walked in the hot sunlight with flowers in hand I saw the mother struggling to find ground to stand on, needing to get to her chair, I grabbed her and helped her to her family. I felt such a great sadness for her loss - I connected by the touch and her grip to hold on. No family, no human being should have to endure that kind of loss. Death leaves a path of devastation, but murder leaves an enormous suffering of desperation. A desperation of lost hope, questions, shock, confusion, hatred and heartbreak; all rolled in together is what I call a "cluster - - - -" of a situation. 

The readings were heartfelt as the gathering of people all stepped in to listen, you could hear people crying, some even mourned softly, her children all had a blank stare ahead, when they did look at an adult for comfort they received it gently by the holding of a hand tightly. I realized as I have before, missing people touch more than one generation; Elisha's elders, her parents, her current age loved ones and now leaving her children to bare witness to this darkness. My friend Lisa came to town for our roadside rally which was being held the next day for missing persons, she again stood by my side as she has many times before in support for the families. You see Lisa knows all to well as her sister was once missing and now remains an unsolved homicide. I thought about her too, standing there and what she might be going through and under my breathe I said a prayer of peace for her.  

It was time to leave, we said our goodbyes, I whispered in Elisha's mother's ear, we are not going anywhere and when things calmed down and people went away, there I would be for her again. As we walked across the large city like grounds with life rushing around all corners of this graveyard, I still had one more stop.  My nieces grave deserved a visit from me, it had been too long since the last visit. We placed flowers down for her, said a prayer and pulled back the weeds trying to grab all sides of her headstone, took a picture for her mother and walked away. 

I reflected as I looked off in the distance at Elisha's family still at her site and I had no regrets. They asked for my help, I gave it by searching for her, getting her story heard by the news, put posters out, featured her at the conference vigil, provided her family with a daily support person and stayed until a resolution was afforded. Although it was a short time with them, I was true to my organizations mission. I will always feel accomplished in bringing those missing home, seeing things through to the end, even if it's to this place that is "not everyone's garden of peace". 

Monica Caison

5/24/2014

Life's journey can be so different

Yesterday as I prepared to attend a funeral of yet another "once" missing person, I was reminded of a friend Susan Murphy Milano and her passing way to young from this world. I was tormented by many words we shared about partner violence and how love or the lack of love can spin out of control. Human's can be cruel she would always say; her education in this arena far exceeded mine as I am an advocate for missing persons and crimes that involve that sector. I found myself being very weighed down as I set off for the two hour drive.

Along the road what appeared to be normal people drove to their respected destinations and I had much time to think. I thought about the horrific day this family had ahead of them, I thought about my own life scars and people who cause them, but mostly I worried for her children, now growing up without a mother all in the name of a senseless violent crime. I realize that the evil things people do in life are from the need of "feeling" some sense of ownership. Yes, ownership or maybe better said they want to win. People feel like they have to win that friendship or partnership; why I really do not have the answer, but it does exist.

I speak of a woman from a small town, who lived a simple life, her name is Angie Pipkin and now those who might have never knew her name will read it on her headstone for many years to come. A small wooded patch of land snuggled of a country setting open for view to passing roadside traffic she was laid to rest peacefully. Their is something to be said about those left to grieve. I know in my heart healing is slow and acceptance can be one of life's most horrible tasting pills one is forced to swallow. I did not cry, all day I fought back tears for them, I needed to still remain their advocate, their strength and help ease their pain in whatever measure I could.

The service was very empowering, I particularly loved to hear personal stories from the pastor, you see, he knew her and he testified for Angie; she deserved that parting respect. I clung on to his words as he spoke about judgement of people and how it was wrong....yes wrong! I listened as he gave comforting words of the test God allows us to take and how we, time after time fail, fall, stumble and sometimes get hurt badly. I lingered in thought about how he explained of Angie and her fight for life and always wanting to do the right things but somethings and maybe even people had failed her. My heart broke as he witnessed her salvation, right their in that church, right their at the very spot he pointed to, you could see it if you cared enough to venture in his memories of her. He stated "she was the victim", no one had the right to kill her, no reason could ever be presented otherwise.

I needed someone else to say it out loud, someone not connected to the world of the missing, the missing who are judged so often for a life that becomes public for all to judge, your life's mistakes just tossed out their for all to see, a life not in control, a life not so perfect. I thought about perfect in the eyes of who? Who are they? "They" believe they are better educated, better in their career, better in obtaining things of this world? Yes, "they" those who think they can cast that first stone, and he went on to speak about that passage in the bible. I knew the ending of that story, however I think their were many who needed to hear it; at the end of the day their were no stones to cast, God said go and sin no more. I looked at the life size photos of Angie's gleaming smile, and the slide show that reflected her mother's pride and joyful moments....all captured in time and now will become memories left for her children to reflect on each time they need to feel their mother close to them. That thought, the one thought alone left room for anger to slip in.

In the travel to her resting place I followed a very long line of cars escorted by law enforcement, at each rural turn their were officers and blue lights flashing frantically stopping any on coming traffic. The public pulled to the side of the road as we all passed to show respect for the family. I was captured by the spirit of the officers standing outside their vehicles at every turn, hats off and hand laid proudly across ones chest. It was a moment of appreciation and respect. Most may not have noticed all the little details in place for her farewell, but I certainly did and felt grateful.

A bird flew overhead standing at the graveside, I again thought of my friend, Susan. You see Susan believed from the depths of her soul in helping those who became a victim of violence, she fought relentlessly for their rights and sought out safe places for them to run, even sometimes hide. This case was one she would have been all over, this case is the testimony for woman of how a violent relationship can and unfortunately will end, this case I pray will save a life in the future.

In the end, people gathered to view the most interesting and amazing site of Angie's volt that she would later be incased in, affixed was the length of the casket covered with a professional made adhesive displaying a collage of pictures of her life and loved ones, with scripture quotes, her name and dates, it was breath taking. Her mother stood with each person as they came to see, she was like a proud mom, her pain worn hard on her face, but she wanted everyone to speak of her daughter and cherish her memories for the last time. She stayed until the last person left. I cannot even image how she felt when she had to leave herself, I said a prayer of courage for her silently.

I'm driving home and it is late at night, I listen to music all the way home, unloading all of my thoughts as they identify with words of different songs, thinking of many journeys I have been on with total strangers, and how "Life's journey can be so different".

Monica Caison
5/31/2014