The Trial (Part 2)

I’m not going to the trial.

I’ve given a lot of thought to it. Since I wrote the last piece about the trial, I prayed about it and meditated over it. I practiced yoga, I ran, I took the bike out for a ride and hit the gym yesterday. I’ve spent a lot of time in my head, rereading what I wrote last week and corresponding with a few people that reached out in concern. In looking back, I realize that every time I think about the trial or become absorbed by the subject, it kicks up all of the PTSD stuff and a whole lot of fear and anger. It’s a big trigger for sure. It’s been looming over my head since June 17th last year when we left the bond hearing. I remember sitting in my living room when we got home. I had friends and family mulling around the living room and kitchen talking openly about what happened in the courtroom while I just sat on the couch staring at the wall straight ahead of me thinking that this was it. There was really nothing left to do until the trial happened. They said it could take up to two years, and I knew right then that my life was moving forward, but in reality I felt completely trapped as if there would be no closure until it was all said and done and Zeke was sentenced. I was very aware then that I was going to have to do this all over again, only prolonging my agony, and that I had absolutely no control of when that would be. I had absolutely no idea as to how I was supposed to live with any of this on my plate. I still had someone sleeping at my place every night at that point just to look out after me. I couldn’t take care of myself. How was I supposed to approach the daunting task of making it another 40 years living here? I just remember sitting in that fog thinking, “What the hell just happened to my life? How am I supposed to move on?”

The fact is though, that what happened and what I lost are two totally different things. What happened is that Shani was murdered by Zeke. What I lost was my wife. The trial isn’t about me. It’s not even about Shani really. It’s about Zeke and what he did. It’s about him paying for what he did to Shani, and the state is the one prosecuting the case, not me.

I received a spiritual email today about the concept that we are truly responsible for our own happiness. It talked about people who hang on to anger and resentments and how these things will destroy you from the inside out. I’ve been very aware of the ways that my feelings could kill me in all of this, causing me to be completely toxic, but felt like my anger associated with having to wait for the trial was something that, well, I was just going to have to wait until the trial to deal with.

But in putting so much of my energy into the trial and talking about being in limbo, I was leaving the power of controlling my own happiness in the hands of the justice system, and, at the end of the day, with Zeke. I say that my life is on hold, but it’s not. I mean, it can be if I choose to take that stance. I can let the trial destroy me, or I can simply choose not to engage it at all. Shani would want me to be happy, and there is absolutely nothing happy about forcing myself to relive the events of the worst day of my life again and again. I felt like I had to be there to stand up for Shani. I felt like I was dishonorable in some way if I didn’t attend. I felt like I owed it to Shani. What I owe to Shani is to live a full life. Shani’s legacy rides with me now. People are only going to know about the beautiful woman she was if I’m here to tell them about her; if I’m here to be the living example of the love we shared together. That’s my responsibility. Shani would want me to live. Yes, it sounds cliché to say that, but it’s true. She was strong. She dealt with more adversity than anyone should have to, and she never let any of it beat her. She was the strongest, most loving and loveable woman I’ve ever known. She would tell me to lose the ego and to quit punishing myself. There is nothing I can do to change the outcome. The honorable thing to do is to live a full life, and this trial has no place in that.

I have a lot of good things going on in my life right now. I have new, blossoming relationships with wonderful people. I have old friends that never waiver. I have an amazing family. But most importantly, I have a life to live right here in front of me, and I have the option of relinquishing control about how I live that life to someone else, or I can just take it back and move forward. And that’s what I’m going to do. It certainly doesn’t mean that I’ll be oblivious to what will be going on there, and I will give a statement when allowed to do so, but I’m done giving any energy whatsoever to the trial anymore. I’m moving forward, and I’m going to be responsible for my own happiness.

I’m going to free myself.

When the trial happens, Zeke will have to answer for what he did, not me.