Have you ever thought you have dealt with a past hurt only to have it come up again? Yet this time, it feels even worse and more tender. That is how I felt a couple of week ago when the legal system finally caught up with life. You see three years ago my stepfather, the man who raised me, was taken by the hand of another person. The details aren't super important other than to say that a guilty verdict was rendered. The second part of a trial deals with the sentencing phase which my husband and I decided to attend. The following statement was my submission to the court.
I would first like to thank the court for providing me the
opportunity to express my feelings and thoughts. On behalf of my family, I would also like to
thank all of the people who played a role in solving this case which lead to a
conviction. The trial has provided a chance
to move our family one step forward in the healing process.
My history with Paul Horn dates back to 1986 when my parents
were married and he became my stepfather.
Looking back, I must admit I was a tough nut to crack. Up until that time, I was an only child who
spent a great deal of time surrounded by my extended family who reinforced my
ideas that I was indeed the center of the universe. Paul loved children and was ready, willing
and able to meet the challenge of parenting me.
He went out of his way to make every special event, especially holidays
a big deal. Despite his nontraditional
work schedule, he made time to come to my school and have lunch with me
whenever spaghetti was on the menu. He
went to school events like skate parties and let me tell you he was quite agile
despite his physical appearance.
As I grew into my teen years, I tried to distinguish my
independence in any way possible. Paul
was tough on me and forced me to walk to the line. I resented him for enforcing rules and
establishing boundaries that my soft hearted mother could not. Looking back, I
realize every grounding and every act of tough love would lead me to the person
I am today.
Our family was big with four girls. You see that is what we are and have always
been, “the girls.” His drive for success
was not selfish. He had a desire to
provide for our future. He wanted there
to be a business that would sustain us.
Last week, I heard words like reliability, loyalty and
honesty used to describe the defendant in this case. However, in my opinion there was very little
evidence to back up these statements.
Reliability is the man who never missed a birthday phone call in all my
years. Reliability is the guy who was there to celebrate every milestone for
those his family. Loyalty is the man who continues to be the
sole financial supporter his ex-wife and daughters in spite of any differences
they shared. Loyalty was the man who
loved and admired his mother showing her respect and showering her with gifts
whenever he could. Loyalty was being the
person an old friend could call upon if they were in need knowing Paul would
give his last few dollars, no matter how long it had been. Honesty was displayed by him telling you what
you needed to hear not what you wanted to hear.
I would also add the word generous to my father’s character. He was the ultimate host who would throw
together a cook out in a few hours’ notice.
For many years, he hosted Christmas parties for friend and family
ensuring there was a gift for every child present. He just wanted people to
feel special and have a good time.
As I look back on my significant life events, I literally
cannot remember a time when my father was not present. Birthdays, high school,
college graduation, my wedding. You name
it he was there. I have two significant
memories I would like to share.
First is my wedding day, you see that was the day I realized
this man I had referred to as my stepfather for all those was actually my
father. He ensured my husband and I had
a great day, planning last minute details, calling in favors, and of course
hosting the reception at our family’s bar and grill. When it came time to dance with Paul, I had
chosen the song “Through the years.”
Some of the lyrics are like this, “Through the years, you never let me
down, you turned my life around, the sweetest days I found, I‘ve found with
you.” As I stood on the dance floor with
my father that day, I knew he was the one I could count for my whole life. That is what has been taken from me. You see, I will never again be able to pick
up the phone and ask my dad for advice.
I will never again be able to receive my birthday phone call. I will
never be able to spend time with him at a family cookout eating his amazing
ribs. No more hosting my husband, Nick
and I in whatever Poker hot spot he was in at the time introducing us to the
local celebrities.
My second more treasured memory was the day our son, Emory
Abram, was born. My dad was there no
more than 12 hours after he was born. He was excited to meet his first
grandchild. He drove straight from NJ to
be there. The funny thing is, I don’t
remember even calling him. He just knew
to be there because it was important and one of his girls’ needed him. We have those pictures as well as others
from Emory’s birth in a special album for my son to look at when he likes. We talk about my dad often, we look at the,
pictures and we visit the cemetery. Our conversations go like this:
Emory: “That is Grandpal Paul.”
Me: “You are right, that is my
daddy.”
Emory: “Where is he is Mommy?” But
then is quickly remembers, “Oh that is right, he is in heaven.”
Me: “That’s right.”
Emory: “Mommy, when can I see him?
Can’t he come down to see me now that I am big boy?”
Me: “I am sorry baby, it doesn’t
work that way. But he loves you and your baby sister. He watches over all of
us.”
Since the time my father died, I have had a daughter. The reality that he would not be there to
meet her hit me hard a few weeks before she was born. But for me, I am the lucky one. I am the oldest child. I was able to
experience so many of my milestones with our dad. What about my three younger
sisters? Who walks them down the isle? Who is there when to hold there first child? This was all taken from them through not
fault of their own and at the hand of another person.
In court hearings, there is so much focus on the character
of the person on trial. I understand
that but I felt it was important for you to know the person my father was.
Please in no way feel sorry for me, I am not a victim. I have a beautiful life with an amazing family. However, it is ridiculous for me to continue to pretend that this loss was not life changing. I am different, more guarded, less social, and somehow afraid. I have been afraid to lose what I have, afraid to deal with the emotions. But the good news is, I can finally see clearly. It is like coming out a haze. There is still much work to be done and my mind returns at times to place where no one can reach but I am stronger now. I have made choices to connect with God in a more intentional way which is an indescribable feeling. He knows my hurt and is there to comfort me.
Gensis 50:20a "As for you, you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good..."
