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It was mid-morning and Maggie and her husband, Howie, were
in the kitchen eagerly preparing the food for their annual Forth of July
barbeque.
While meticulously carving out the watermelon for her
signature fruit salad, Maggie sternly makes an appeal to her husband. “How’, I
want you to behave today; Maria is bringing over that nice new boy and I don’t
want you, or anyone else, to scare him away especially after the last
disastrous relationship she just ended."
Stunned, Howie responds, “You think I’d embarrass our Maria?
I can’t believe you! I’m just happy she kicked that other guy out on his a—“
“I get it, dear! Oh, babe one more thing?"
Glancing at his attractive wife, Howie impulsively shuts her
up with a passionate kiss on her mouth. As if on cue, their youngest daughter,
Becky, interrupts their romantic interlude and beckons them to the phone.
Without looking at either of her parents, a disgusted Becky
quickly leaves the kitchen while muttering, “You guys are so gross!"
Within minutes, a troubled Howie hangs up the phone.
“Everything alright?" Maggie asks.
“Yeah, I guess. Sam has been trying to contact Maria for the
past three hours and she’s not answering the door or phone. I think I’m going
to go to her place and check in on her."
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that dear, she’s probably
soaking in a nice bubble bath and making herself pretty. Hey, if you’re going
that way, I bought her a bottle of Channel No. 5 perfume — can you please give
it to her?"
Taking his wife in his arms once again, Howie looks deeply
in her eyes and says, “Have I told you lately how much I love you?"
Maggie places her arms around her husband’s neck and, in a
sexy whisper, responds, “No, Mr. Botti, I don’t believe you have but if you
hang around, you may tell me all you want tonight after everyone leaves."
***
“C’mon Maggie, outa the kitchen — everyone’s here already!"
“Okay, Lorraine, I’m just checking the ribs; I’ll be out in
a few minutes."
While Maggie pours the last of the barbeque sauce on the
ribs, she glances at the clock and wonders why Howie hasn’t come home from
Maria’s yet. In a moment of panic, she calls his cell phone one last time.
“Hullo?"
“Who’s this?" Maggie asks.
“It’s Sam. This Mrs. Botti?"
“Yes, Sam, it is — what’s going on? I have a houseful of
guests but no husband here to help me."
“Mrs. B—“
“Maggie?"
“Howie? What’s going on? Where are you? Is everything
alright?"
In a shaky voice, her husband replies, “No, Maggie,
everything is not alright. Our girl’s —."
Inherently, Maggie interrupts her husband, “Where are you?"
“Maria’s."
“Don’t go anywhere—I’ll be right there."
Although her granddaughter lives only seven blocks away,
each city block seems a mile long. Desperately sensing danger, Maggie runs the
entire distance while pushing everyone in sight out of her way.
At long last, she breathlessly arrives at her
granddaughter’s apartment building and is immediately terror-stricken when she
spies policemen and an EMT crew entering the front lobby.
Once inside the apartment building, an agitated Maggie opts
for the stairs instead of the crowded elevator and hastens up the entire
fourteen floors until she reaches Maria’s apartment. Similar to a tigress
protecting her own, she forcibly pushes her way through the crowded open door
and looks for her Maria. Oblivious to the crime scene tape and everyone around
her, she follows the bloodstained path on the plush white carpet straight to
the bathtub and bellows out a scream that could be heard throughout Manhattan.
Sometime in the early morning, Maria’s ex-boyfriend, Tom,
who is bipolar and overcome with jealously, sneaks into her apartment and slits
her throat. An aspiring songwriter, Tom writes his final love song in Maria’s
own blood entitled, “Maria’s Last Song."
***
As I pen this true account, my heart aches for the
senseless, tragic ending of an extraordinary young woman and her family. How
does one comfort those who have experienced such violence? What words of wisdom
console?
Right now, I know of none.
A woman of faith, I know of no prayer, no advice nor any
acts of kindness that will console this grieving family. I choose silence and
cry with them and allow them to “feel" their pain.
Silently, I fervently pray to the Lord to bestow his healing
love upon this grieving family.
I am ashamed that my compassion does not extend toward the
murderer. I do not understand mental illness but I do understand that many
violent crimes are committed with attorney’s pleading the insanity defense.
What does this mean? Sadly, I seek no literal meanings at
this time. I can only see a senseless crime that was viciously violent.
Did Tom not take his meds? I don’t know, but I do know that
Tom is a heavy pot smoker and likes to snort an occasional line or two of coke. Any
connection?
Maybe. I don’t do drugs so I don’t know.
At the request of a friend, I try to seek answers in the
Bible.
The terms “bipolar" or “manic depression" refer to a
condition described as “a brain disorder that causes unusual shifts in a
person’s mood, energy, and ability to function. Different from the normal ups
and downs that everyone goes through, the symptoms of bipolar disorder are
severe. It is diagnosed based upon particular characteristics. The Bible does
not address the issue of medical treatment for this condition. However, the
Bible does provide accounts of those individuals that exhibited bipolar
characteristics. The Bible also provides instructions for dealing with many of
the characteristics. Typical characteristics associated with bipolar are considered
either manic or depressive.
Psychology considers bipolar to be a disorder of the brain.
Without debating the accuracy of that statement, one should still conclude that
regardless of the affliction that might be upon the physical brain, there are
certain responsibilities placed upon an individual to choose what things will
be the focus of attention.
I believe that we all have the indwelling ability to be
either good or bad. I also believe that living a righteous life is a choice.
Tom made his choice when he committed murder.
In sadness, I am not ready to pray for Tom yet, but perhaps
someone else is. ©2008 Judi Lake. All Rights Reserved Worldwide. |
