Sorrow....

June 17, 2008





The last time, his children,Katrina (wife) and I saw him alive...Daphne's graduation - May 24, 2008


Yeah right...whatever.It's been awhile to say the least, but alas much has happened in the ways of my world.
My children's father just died and needless to say, I am still in a bit of shock and disbelief. I'm trying to deny every feeling, every memory lest I explode in a heaping pile of intense grief.

Richard was one of my oldest friends, the father of my children and (in retrospect) one of the most giving people I have ever known. Aside from the fact that I have been furious with him oh...for about 10 years - after all he was by far, the most annoying person I have ever known. Not to mention that he never paid child support..except for maybe one year. What would be more valuable - Calling his children almost every single day, saying good night and I love you or a monthly check? Sometimes it is important to look at how a person interacts with his world, what he able to give from himself rather than placing a monetary value on his contribution.
I am so angry right now, that I have to check myself constantly so as not to lash out at the innocent.
I am angry at myself for being so mad at him during Daphne's graduation..after all he was stoned out of his mind, why shouldn't I be mad. He kissed me on my cheek that day and said "Love you Tash" At the time, I didn't recognize the importance of that moment..my heart is torn up. I went to his house in NY, the last thing he wrote on his calendar was my birthday..more pain, more guilt
what the fuck!!!!!!
Was I a good friend? I can't remember..I don't want to! I don't want to remember anything bad that I ever said or did to him.

Why the fuck are we (people) so fucking selfish, I keep asking myself the same thing over and over again "Was I compassionate? Was I fair?"
I am angry and I don't want to go back into the ocean, I don't like it there. I know he's here, I can sense his presence (in an ethereal sort of way), I just wish he would talk to me, visit in a dream perhaps. I suppose that won't happen until I go back in that fucking water and feel, ugggghhhh!!!

June 20, 2008

Still in lots and lots of denial...yesterday was my birthday - yes I had a party most of my friends we're there..but...but... but I couldn't help but look at my phone like every 5 minutes waiting for any echo of Richie calling to wish me a happy birthday or rather, giving me a serenade (pathetically of course) of an off key version of "Happy Birthday to you...." 20 years of Happy Birthday serenades.

I don't think that I mentioned that Richard died in the custody of the Greenfield, Massachusetts jail in Franklyn County. He was picked up on the way back from graduation for being too stoned. Naturally we all were so elated...now he could get help,get into rehab..etc... I even said Massachusetts is so progressive..yeah! we'll have Richie back.

BOY WAS I FUCKING WRONG!!!

Like every other typical law enforcement agency in the whole fucking world (because they all walk on water, after all) They are "the judgement" and "the protectors" of all men...Ohhhh the self righteous and sinless law enforcement of mankind.

The kicker is that the administration of the Franklin County jail in Greenfield, Massachusetts didn't even allow us to see Richie while he was dying (unimaginable)....of course not, after all they had to cover their lily white - self righteous asses by having a "lets get our story straight" conference, while Chloe, Katrina and I waited and waited and waited (while Richie was DYING) oh yes we waited, while they seemingly didn't give a shit. By the time the Warden, two district attorneys, two state police officers (one was a LT) the nurse from the medical unit (who apparently doesn't have a clue about how people should be detoxed-what a fucking moron..she should have her license revoked) and a few stray Correction idiots decided to grace us with their morally correct selves, Rich was pretty much dead according to his death certificate...hmmm, how odd considering he was supposedly still alive two hours after he was pronounced dead (according to the jail admin.).

Here's a message to all the employees of the Franklin County Jail in Greenfield Massachusetts (yes that is all you are .... employees, you fucks!) There is NO EXCUSE for what has happened - people don't die from detox anymore, more often they die from neglect. You killed a father and a friend...FUCK YOU and may you suffer 100 times the pain and grief of what my children have! I hope these pictures burn in your collective memories until the day you all die...Cowards!!!!



July 22, 2008

Regarding the July 18th letter...Thank you for letting us know that there are people out there who still have compassionate hearts and an understanding of what is just. Please know that it is difficult to express (in this forum) the gratitude and appreciation we, as a family feel - in having read your letter. The heartfelt condolences and genuine concern regarding Richard's death confirm to me, that your integrity gives me hope that Richard did not die in vain and that his life was indeed valuable..
Geee...I hope I'm making sense, my brain has been having some difficulty in the "articulation" department - to be expected, I suppose.
Thank you again
- Natasha

Katrina and I have spent countless hours speculating as to what actually happened to Richie...what was going through his mind during those final moments. When I start thinking about how much he must have suffered - alone in a cell...I can't help but feel this heart wrenching sense of despair, which shifts to rage. It has been very hard to reconcile what has happened.
The other day I was helping Ian clean his room. At one point I glanced over to make sure he wasn't shoving his toys under the bed (his version of cleaning up). Anyway, he was kneeling next to his bed, holding a picture of his dad barely 2 inches from his face - he was just sitting there. I could see the tears welling up in his eyes, I could feel his pain and sadness - You know sometimes being a mother really sucks shit, especially when your children are suffering. As parents, Rich and I had always felt a deep symbiotic connection with our children - so this makes everything so much harder.



An email from Rachel to the Girls - June 3, 2008

Dear Daphne and Chloe,

I'm writing to you both because I was witness to both of your births and because I have known your parents since they were about six years old. Not only do I want you to know how sorry I am for the loss of your father ,but I want you to know that he was not always the person that he became due to his addiction.
My earliest memories of your father were when he was about 7 or 8, he had an Afro then (not the Michael Jackson look - yet). He always had a giant smile on his face and always said hello in a very animated sweet way. I am 6 years older than him, by the way. He was a very sensitive child in a very harsh environment. He had to contend with two older siblings that were both addicted to heroin and the streets - which were definitely not as they are today in New York. Eleventh Street wasn't the worst in the area ,but it was plagued by drugs,pimps ,hookers, dilapidated buildings and rats. Your father was very cute when he was little and was often called "Coffee Bean". He would go home crying alot because he was picked on. Your mother was fortunate to be more protected , however as you well know that didn't stop her from eventually getting sucked into the addiction either. I would say his happiest years were his teenage years, and the first couple of years after your births. I think the guys (Jesus ,Willie, Anthony,Jeffrey, Raul , Freddie and little Pete) were his salvation at that time. They were wild and they had fun (they could still tell you stories - for days). One thing that they all knew is that they had to do something with their lives or they would end up like the many of the older kids (my age group), who had died so young. Just ask Big Pete, his wife and 10 year old son were two of the casualties. Your father was very "happy go Lucky" at the time and boy oh boy - he was funny. When he was accepted into the NYC police department - he was so proud of himself, somehow it gave him a sense of hope. His greatest joy however, was his children.
Chloe when you were born I was 9 months pregnant with Mark and he was due the 28th also. I was sitting on a stool next to your mother's bed holding her leg. the doctor is sitting in front of her cooch with your head crowning. Your father is pacing back and forth. You took forever to come out and of course, your father is joking non-stop. He says " doc why don't you grab it and just pull it out it 'll have a long neck like E.T. ,but I'll still love it." Finally...you came out and Rich sees your head (girrrl you had a Big square head - we have pictures to prove it) he then tells your mother he could drive train down there. Of course your mother is saying "shut the F*** Up Richie" every 5 minutes ,but he was funny you couldn't help laughing. Daphne you came out much faster and again I was holding your mother's leg. Your dad had a prisoner handcuffed to some hospital railing one flight down - he was running in between your mom in labor and his prisoner. Finally ( like 2 seconds after being admitted into the hospital) You literally- came flying out and your father is yelling " doc don't fumble... catch her" - BTW, your Dad was an amazing football player. Did you know that he was recruited by Syracuse University (maybe it was Ithaca??, I can't remember now..it was one of the two) to play football. I just mentioned it because he used the word "fumble" and seriously, you shot out like a football. He was a wonderful father, with the both of you when were little and throughout much of your lives. He was so proud of you both and to be blessed with such beautiful and smart children. At this time, he wasn't immersed in his addiction - that came later.
He was really a sweet loving man - who got tangled in a web of addiction that overpowered him - and eventually it took over his life. He didn't have the internal strength or support that your mother did to climb out of the pit. Even though his struggle became worse - I HAVE NO DOUBT in my mind - that his love for you and your brother was as strong as it was the day's you were born.....even though he may not have shown it the way he should have. Daphne please know that he stayed long enough to see you graduate- to see all of you thriving in Vermont. If there is one thing that I know about your father, death will not stop him from sitting on your shoulder's while watching over you, cracking jokes etc with Alex and Jules. He is finally free, he can laugh again and if you find things being moved in the house don't be surprised that it's him playing jokes again. My love and prayers are with you both and your mother and Ian. Remember the good times always, nobody can ever take away your memories......All three of you were your father's greatest achievement, I see him in all of you.
Much love,
Rachel

August 1, 2008

"Half Breed" was the other nickname Rich had as a kid. His father was an extremely dark man from Barbados and his mother - as white as one can get from Czekoslavakia. So Rich was a beautiful genetic combination of both parents. When he was born, his mother did not want her mother to know that she had a mixed child - as her other children were all from a different father and they where all acceptably white. So she had Richie's birth certificate state that Johnny (his older brother) was the father - although I can't see how having your own son put on the birth certificate looks any better as the father of his brother?. Anyway, it was crazy - I can't make sense of what that woman was thinking. As for Richie's father he was sort of a "Mr.Suave" type of guy, who drove a flashy convertable..you know the type. I think that the first time Rich met his dad was when I found him in 1991 after Daphne was born - he was just over the river in New Jersey. After Rich left the Police department, we decided to move to Barbados - at the suggestion of his father. Richie had a whole slew of brothers and sisters in Barbados that he didn't know about. The oldest sister was married to the Minister of Finance (at the time) and she gladly welcomed us into their home. In our correspondence prior to going, his sister's husband had offered to arrange for Richard to work for the government in the border patrol....We were so stoned that we forgot all about the job offer. When we arrived on the island with Chloe and Daphne, they wouldn't let us through customs because we had only bought one way tickets...DUH What a nightmare until his brother in law showed up with a small entourage of "important people on a tiny island" and after a rather quick meeting with the customs officials- our passports were stamped and we received a Visa that allowed us to stay for 6 months, I think. Talk about knowing people in high places. Oh yeah, I guess I didn't mention that I happened to be carrying ohhhh, maybe 5 grams of heroin on my person (we were addicted at this point)...How dumb was Natasha?????
I must of forgotten about my then favorite movie "midnight express" and what happened to that guy. Of course we were on the island of Barbados - a far cry from Turkey.
Needless to say, I was extremely fortunate in that the police dogs (less than fifteen feet away from me) must of been slacking that day.
Now at that time, Rich was still a NY police officer working in the somewhat "elite" Harbor unit, he had not yet resigned - lets call it an extended leave of absence. Well lets just say that regardless of what the eventual outcome was going to be in regard to his job - being a NYC PO (in whatever context) still had it's merit and there were always a few "get out of jail free" cards laying around.
Anyway, we lasted about a month on the island - Barbados is certainly not on my top ten list of fabulous places to go.
I should try to get in touch with his sisters though, just to let them know what has happened....arrgggh, what a drag.
BTW, here's a picture of Rich when he worked in the 5th precinct (Chinatown)...
It's not a great picture, it's a scan off of a scan. I think we have better ones in storage somewhere.
Well, we're off to Bear Island - the little crumbsnatchers (Ian and his pals), the dogs and I...oh joy of joys. There is nothing like 3 hyper boys, 2 hyper dogs - my sometimes hysterical mom - Jeff, who loves to insult me (behind my back) - The Hammonds (who are actually normal and pleasant to be around) on an island. Maybe I'll feign sickness, so that everyone just leaves me alone. It's a beautiful day, what the hell - we'll be on an island and fishing too!!!

Here's a pretty pix of Chloe and Rich - on her 2nd birthday. ..and just think you fucking assholes, she will never have the chance to experience a similar scenario...and gee who in the world is going to walk her down the aisle when she gets married..well we can cross one person off....hmmmmm, yup that would be her father.
Yeah!!!!
bring on the pain and tears...how cleansing. Not that we needed any cleansing, but what the heck - why not.

Oh by the way, I wanted to thank the staff of the Greenfield jail for their outstanding "compassion" skills, impeccable manners and those silly little courtesies like "We are so sorry that this has happened, please accept our condolences"
Nope, not a one....anything. (well we did get condolences from one person) Your mommies did not train you well..shame shame.

August 3, 2008 - Something about Katrina....

Katrina and I were talking last night (again), about Richie. You know what the best part of having Katrina here is? Her and I, can totally talk about the weirdest things in regard to Rich, like his strange personality quirks or his "kindness" factor - when he was a cop..to name a few and we totally get it.

It's the strangest thing, this woman (Richard's wife) and I have become such good friends..almost like sisters. Although we have coined a phrase that labels our relationship - we are in essence: "Wife in Laws"....c'mon, how good is that?

There is nobody that I can talk to about my relationship with Rich, that understands like Katrina and vice versa.

NOTE: Ladies, if you can make friends with your ex's current wife or love - you'd be surprised if not elated with the friendship that could evolve. Of course, the ex might not be so keene with that idea - after all, men are such babies (sorry guys, but you really are)

Anyway, considering my memory really sucks (all those drugs, obviously did some damage) - Kat and I help each other to remember our own personal experiences with Rich. It used to be that when I couldn't remember something from the last 20 years, I could call Richie and he could give me every detail, down to the date and time...ahhh, I will miss his memory.

I still can't believe that he is gone...I keep having to remind myself that Rich is gone forever and it is like being socked in the heart anew - each time I have to acknowledge his death.

Every time I allow myself to think about what happened to him in the last 24 hours of his life...I squinch my eyes (in order to stop the tears), I scream and force myself to think of something else. Oh, it was horrible...imagine being all alone for hours and hours in a cell..suffering from one seizure to another - no human contact, no dignity, no concern...nothing. What was he thinking and feeling and at what point did he stop thinking.
(OH BOY, my blood pressure is rising again...rage) I need to stop.
Time to play scrabble and zone out.