I’m thinking about different kinds mothers.
Gil lost her daughter Morgan about 18 months ago. Morgan was murdered—and most likely, brutally raped before she was murdered. Her murderer dumped her body in a farmer’s field in Virginia. I can only imagine the manhunt I’d be on if one of my children were murdered. I’m sure it would resemble Sherman’s march into Atlanta.
In Massachusetts, another mother sat through a trial with her daughter, Kayla Narey—one of the "mean girls" responsible for the bullying that led to Phoebe Prince's suicide.
One mother is trying to find justice for her daughter.
One is looking to escape it.
Both are willing to do anything for their daughters.
Both stand by them.
Gil valiantly keeps Morgan’s memory alive, speaking out against those who question what Morgan was thinking—going to a concert, drinking, hitchhiking home, dressing the way she did—as if any person deserves to be raped, murdered, or both.
Kayla Narey sat in the courtroom, back erect, chin high, lips pursed, eyes narrowed. Unrepentant. “I’m not responsible for Phoebe’s death,” she claimed. She got a slap on the wrist from the court last week.
Her mother must be thankful. If I were her, I’d be thankful, too. I'd be tempted to think the slap was something good.
But her mother must also dread her future. I know I would. Because while Kayla's mother could hire an attorney to whittle the charges down to nothing—a misdemeanor—(and I’d have done the same thing), she can't do anything about the stain on Kayla’s life. What college will take her now? What kind of life will she live with this shadow? Will she ever have children? Will this haunt the unborn children and Kayla herself?
Mostly, I’ve been thinking about Anne
Karen this really makes one think, thank you.
|1871 days ago|
I would do anything for my children. I can't imagine them doing wrong, but I would most likely stand by them. I don't know this case and we never know what goes on behind closed doors and what words were exchanged between the mother and her daughter. Do we know what kind of upbringing she had?
Not that it's ever an excuse, but sometimes we have to look deeper...to try and understand, to try and change.
I'm lucky, I have two beautiful children. I know the pain of losing a child, the unbearable void, the anger and the sense that you somehow have failed. I shall always miss not being able to hold my baby. I'll never forget that, just as I'll never forget the joy my two children bring me every day.
|1872 days ago|