Out of the Shadows

During October 2011, radio station WBEZ ran an excellent series, Out of the Shadows: Preventing Child Suicide.


It focused on youth aged 14 to 24, which is the group especially at risk.


This excellent series was too little too late for our own family; but it will help others---if everyone tunes in and listens to it.  


I did not get to listen to every episode because they aired while I was at work.  But they are online, and everyone can benefit from hearing them--especially me.


All parents everywhere should be open-minded about the possibility that their child might have a mental illness or be suicidal, and they should educate themselves about the symptoms (or lack of symptoms, which in itself may be a symptom).  No one can afford tobe in denial about this, or closed-minded to the possibility because the symptoms of the suicidal mind are so subtle and ambiguous.


I want the whole world to know about Out of the Shadows so that all parents everywhere will be armed with the information they need.

Philip's Award-Winning Story

People have asked if they could read this story.  Thank you to Philip Butta for permission to reproduce it here.

HE JUMPED, I FOLLOWED

by

Philip Butta

 “Little brother, little brother. have you interviewed the whole city yet?”

This was the first and last text message my brother, Maris, would send me.  I received it October 26, 2009 at 12:50AM in Evanston, about 6:50PM in Hawaii, where my brother was stationed at Hickam Air Force Base.  I was asleep at the time. When I checked my phone the next morning, I didn’t think of anything of the message, other than that it was odd for my brother to communicate via texting, especially for something as trivial as what he’d written.  I sent a joking return message while I ate breakfast: “I sure did.”  I went to class.  I went to work. It was a normal day. 

My brother never sent a response, but at that point the only things I was thinking about were midterms.  I didn’t realize until 4:00PM, when I returned my mom’s vague but urgent phone messages telling me to call her, that Maris never received my text.  He’d jumped off the top of a seven-story parking garage two hours before I’d sent the reply.  In the days that followed his death, I always wondered where Maris’ phone was when the text finally reached him.  Was it in his pocket?  Had it been smashed to pieces during the fall?  Was it in a police inventory bin?  An autopsy room?  Did it ring when my message arrived?  I had no idea what had happened at the other end of the line.  A phone could only do so much to traverse the 4,000 miles between us.  We might as well have been living in different worlds.

My brother had left Chicago immediately after graduating high school in 2006.  He enlisted in the Air Force, finished technical school, and ended up serving as a Senior Airman in Hawaii near Pearl Harbor.  I was nonplussed when I first heard him talking about signing up.  Saying my brother was a non-conformist, an anti-authoritarian, might be an understatement.  He went through a phase in eighth grade where he carved the anarchy sign on everything, including the back of his hand.  He wasn’t a delinquent, but he kicked over his fair share of newspaper stands as an adolescent.  He bought chemistry sets just to make combustible reactions that destroyed half the stuffed animals from our childhood.  The other half died at the end of a BB gun.  He was Fight Club’s Tyler Durden, improvisational napalm and all, except he wasn’t a figment of my imagination. 

Maris was three years older than me, and three years younger than our oldest brother, Alex.  The middle kid.  He was always quiet, smart too, and funny as hell. And we looked alike.  Brown hair, brown eyes, tall, thin, and lanky.  But unlike me, he never did his school work, so the teachers told our parents he was a bad student.  Our elementary school expelled him in eighth grade after he brought a pen-knife to class.  Around this time my mom had him committed to the psych ward of a hospital for four days, while she dealt with her mother’s—my grandmother’s—declining health and eventual death.  While he was there, he wrote in a journal about the other kids he saw there.  They were screwed up, on drugs, and many had tried to kill themselves.  He promised he would never end up like that, do what they did to themselves.

I didn’t believe he would either.  The first thought that entered my mind when my mom broke the news to me was that he had accidentally drunk himself to death, or that he’d been consumed by an explosion of his own conception.  That would have been the Maris way to go, as far as I was concerned.  When I found out what actually happened, my voice cracked uncontrollably for the first and only time I can remember in my life.  All I could say was “what?” over and over.  With morbid curiosity and something akin to hopeful desperation that this was all a terrible mistake, I logged onto Facebook and clicked his profile.  Someone had already posted on his Wall: “wtf man…”  Two posts below, about two weeks earlier, someone had written, “whats up man? coming home for the holidays?” My brother had replied, “yep yep, will be home dec 16 thru jan 6.”

The Air Force shipped Maris back to Chicago five days after he died, on Halloween.  On November 1, I went to the funeral home with my family to view the body.  He looked like he might have been sleeping, but I looked closer.  “Just be careful not to move his head…” the funeral home director trailed off into silence.   My mom gently touched the sides of his head and kissed him on the mouth.  I saw his hands.  They had small scratches on them from the fall.  They were wrinkled and twisted from the embalming fluid.  I kept staring at them until I became nauseated.  I walked outside to drink some water, and my brother, Alex, came too.  “That’s fucked up,” he said.  I nodded.  That’s all he needed to say.  The person in that coffin was not the person I knew for 19 years, and I didn’t know why.

As the funeral approached, I only became more confused.  I spent the preceding days sifting through dozens of photo albums, creating a slideshow montage for the wake.  Maris flying a paper airplane, holding an Easter basket, graduating from basic training, smiling.  Every time I had talked to him on the phone, he told me something he was excited about: climbing Mauna Loa, seeing The Misfits, using his newly bought rice cooker for the first time.  The stupidest little things made him happy, and made me happy.  The Air Force had done him well—he was responsible, disciplined.  He wasn’t staying up until 4am playing Call of Duty anymore.  He had a rough time when he was younger, but now he was mature.  He was doing something with his life. He talked about getting a university degree after his enlistment was up, becoming a medic or ambulance driver.  My brother had become a stranger in one night.  He had abandoned our family, leaving nothing behind but a two-line message. 

These were the thoughts that held precedence in my mind for the next two months.  There was no way to explain what happened to my brother, so I contented myself with the belief that the best solution was to ignore it. I would acknowledge his memory, but disregard how he died.  It was my denial stage.  But this state of idiotic forced unawareness only lasted so long.  I still had nightly dreams in which I convinced my brother not to kill himself.  I hypothesized situations in which I’d been awake to answer his text, to change his mind.  Curiosity gnawed at me continually, especially as bits of information trickled in over the following months.  Up to that point, my family knew only a basic, incomplete outline of what had happened that night at the parking garage, which we learned from a quartet of Maris’ friends who flew in from Hawaii for the wake and funeral: Samantha Piper, Kristi-Lee Gibson, Jonathan Moore, and Lennie Cruz.

That night, my brother had gone to Samantha’s house to hang out.  He was unusually quiet, and after a few hours, he left without saying anything other than, “I have to think about some things.”  Several hours later, his friends received texts from him saying that he wished them good lives, telling them goodbye.  Samantha, Kristi, and Jonathan called and texted him repeatedly, eventually tracing him to the parking garage of a nearby airport.  They called their commanding sergeant to inform him of the situation.  Several police officers had reached the top of the garage before they did.  When the officers approached him, my brother jumped.

If anything, this sequence of events mystified me further.  My brother sounded like a lunatic who had gone off the deep end for no apparent reason.  There had to be more that I wasn’t seeing, that I wasn’t allowed to see.  The Air Force had deemed the events of that night confidential information, pending further investigation.  Any details beyond what we already knew were floating out of reach in bureaucratic limbo.

Or that’s what I thought.  In mid-November, my parents had flown to Hawaii for a memorial service for Maris, bringing back some of his belongings, including his cell phone.  My dad was planning to use it as his own from now on.  On my way to bed one night, I saw the phone laying on the coffee table in our living room.  I opened it, scrolling through the message inbox.  I found the messages I thought I would: Maris saying goodbye to his friends, that he needed to think things over.  There was also a series of texts between my brother and Kristi.  I remembered Kristi from the funeral.  She was pretty, with a round face, straight brown hair parted at the side, and square-rimmed glasses.  Like Maris’ other friends, she wore her dress blues the whole time.  We  barely exchanged glances.

The messages went back several weeks.  The earlier exchanges were friendly—jokes, encouragements, commiserations.  The later ones were more intimate.  A few days before he died, my brother told Kristi he felt like she understood him, that he liked her as more than a friend.  She responded that she didn’t know if she could be with him, that she had problems.  My brother said he didn’t care if she was fucked up.  The night he jumped, Kristi pleaded with Maris to tell her where he was, that he could sleep at her place that night if he wanted.  He responded that he was at the airport.  Several minutes later, he sent a one-word text: “Goodbye.”

I grasped onto this one strand of logical explanation.  I still didn’t know the full extent of what had happened between my brother and Kristi.  But I felt like I was closer, that my brother hadn’t gone insane, that maybe his death wasn’t an inexplicable act.  There was a trigger.  He had broken under the strain of emotional duress, but he wasn’t crazy.  It didn’t make me happy, but I could apply reasoning to his death.

In February, the Air Force informed my mom that Maris had left behind a suicide note.  Among other things, he wrote, “I wasn’t meant for this life…My mind is terrible. I am evil inside.”  Within seconds of reading the note, I felt like I was back where I had started in November, no closer to understanding his death, and now feeling like I never would.  These were the ramblings of a depressive, psychologically unbalanced person.  The brother that I knew couldn’t have thought this.  If he did, how could he have hidden it from the world? If his family didn’t know, could anybody?

In eighth grade, Maris dated a girl named Elizabeth Pritts for about a year.  Like Maris, she was tall and thin, but with shortish blonde hair and brown eyes  She now sports an ear-length bob with bluish streaks.  Still, her face is almost just as I remember when I was a 6^th grader trailing the two of them around during morning recess.  Maris had understood her, she said.  He was the first person she’d fell in love with, and the hardest to get over.  They both had “problems,” and would commiserate over their common side effects of taking Zoloft.  “Do your hands shake? Yeah, it makes me sweat too!”  They shared a journal that they would both write in—how they hated their lives, how they felt like killing themselves sometimes.  But it wasn’t serious, not then.  They had each other to confide in, and that was enough— to have someone to listen to and be understood by—to keep going.  But Maris’ teachers had tried to convince Elizabeth to break up with Maris.  “You’re a good girl, Elizabeth. You shouldn’t be dating him…Peter likes you…He’s going to ask you out.” 

She did what they said.  She broke up with Maris towards the end of eighth grade, and she immediately regretted it.  Maris refused to talk to Elizabeth for months.  After they had gone their separate ways in high school, though, Maris began to write to her again.  He’d send her e-mails, telling her he felt like shit, that he didn’t trust his thoughts.  She’d send a reply asking to meet, but he never responded.  Still, she was there for him when he needed it.  She thought he would be okay because he had her as an outlet.  Elizabeth was the first of Maris’ friends that I told when he died.  She couldn’t believe it and almost immediately needed to hang up the phone after I’d called her.  She still doesn’t believe that he intended to kill himself that night on the garage. Why else would he have sent text messages telling others where he was? And the suicide note, she said, sounded like the letters he would write her from time to time.  He had survived his thoughts up until now.  He was strong enough to do it again, she thought.

As I drove home after talking with Elizabeth, I felt like I had just been reacquainted with Maris, that he had been entirely reconstructed in my mind as someone new.  The person I saw each day was not the person he actually was, was not who he could be with Elizabeth.  Before, this thought had terrified me—the possibility that the brother I knew for years was disintegrating before my eyes.  Now, it wasn’t a fearful thought.  I felt like I was accomplishing something, and I needed to keep going.  Maybe I would never interview the whole city, per my brother’s query, but I damn well would interview everyone that mattered to me at that moment.  When I got home, I left Kristi a voice message asking her to call me.  She did.  After an awkward greeting (I had never conversed with her face-to-face, even at the funeral), she told me everything that happened the night Maris died, things even my parents didn’t know—they had just filed a Freedom of Information Act and were waiting on the official police report.     

She and Maris had been friends for several months.  They’d spent the night together, were on the verge of dating, but she felt like she wasn’t ready for a relationship.  The night my brother came over to Samantha’s house, Kristi was there.  She couldn’t see him.  She went into the bathroom and wouldn’t come out.  My brother wanted to know what was wrong.  Samantha told him it would be better if he stayed away for now.  So he left.  Kristi followed in her car and texted Maris as she drove.  He said he needed to think about things, that he didn’t mean to hurt her.  She saw him pulled over to the side of the road, texting her, but she couldn’t stop and kept going past him.  Later, she received his text saying goodbye.  She called their sergeant, informing him of the situation.  When she finally got Maris on the phone, she asked him where he was.  “At the airport,” he said. She thought he was booking a flight and leaving Hawaii.  Then he said he was on top of a parking structure.  When she told him the sergeant knew, he freaked out.  He didn’t want his commanding officers involved.  They would force him to go to a shrink, and he might get discharged.  She made him promise he would stay where he was until she came alone. They would drive all night and talk and figure it out.  He told her okay; he would wait.  A few minutes later, she was on the phone with him again.  The last thing he said to her—maybe the last thing he ever said—was, “Oh shit, it’s the cops.”  He hung up the phone.  Two minutes later, she received a call from their sergeant telling her Maris had died. 

Kristi had started crying on the phone.  When he was drunk, Maris would tell her what he told Elizabeth.  His thoughts were evil.  He was evil.  He always had a feeling he would die young, “by his own hand.”  Whenever he did this, she and her friends would tell him to shut up, that they loved him.  Now he had died at his own hand, she said, and it was her fault.  Her voice became garbled as she apologized to me and hoped my parents didn’t hate her. I told her not to worry.  She wasn’t responsible.  I still don’t know if I was lying or telling the truth.  Would Maris have jumped if Kristi had gotten there before the cops?  If she had pulled over next to him on the side of the road and held his hand?  There are always going to be things I cannot fathom.  It’s been more than a year since his death, but I recognize my brother on a different level, the part of himself he was so hesitant to show anyone when he was alive.  I still don’t understand it or like it, and knowing it now doesn’t help at all in accepting his death and moving on.  That’s never going to happen, as long as I live.  But it makes Maris complete in my mind.  And for that one small kernel of satisfaction, I am grateful. 

This November 16^th, my brother would have turned 23.  My family threw a party for him, and several of his friends from grade school and high school came to our house.  Each person put a candle in a cake and lit it.  We sang “Happy Birthday.”  I can honestly say it was the weirdest party I have ever attended.  Oddly enough, it wasn’t a somber, formal memorial.  Everyone laughed, telling stories about the time Maris accidentally set his pants on fire then rolled in the snow to put it out, or when he buzzed his hair in emulation of Taxi Driver’s Travis Bickle.  Everybody had acknowledged his death but no one tried to explain it anymore.  It had become a part of our lives, a weight on our shoulders that for some lightened a little bit every day, and for others would never disappear.  I don’t know if anybody else had come to the same conclusion I did or felt what I felt at that moment.  Still, everybody was there because of Maris.  Because even if we didn’t understand him and never could, we wanted to.  And if the most we could do on that front was to embrace him for what he was—to love the things that he hated about himself—then we would.  Everybody went outside into our backyard.  It was past nightfall, cold and drizzling.  We had found a handful of old firecrackers on a shelf in my brother’s room, the tiny red dynamites with green wicks.  We lit the wicks and threw the firecrackers high into the air, laughing and exhaling puffs of steam.   The firecrackers exploded with loud, echoing bangs and sulfurous flashes.  It was a Maris way to go. 

Maris's Birthday 2011

We were grateful to receive visits from Maris's friends in honor of his birthday.


Every year, there was a sleepover for Maris's friends.  They did wild and crazy things all night, and it was always a lot of fun.

Friends from Gordon Tech visited on Saturday, November 12--Lukasz, Brian, and Jeff:

 and Peter and Elizabeth, friends from Newberry visited on his actual birthday, November 16

  Thank you so much for being the most special friends in the world.

National Alliance On Mental Illness (NAMI)

I had a valuable experience at work the other day.  We learned about NAMI, the nation’s largest grassroots mental health organization dedicated to building better lives for Americans affected by mental illness.


Working with the public means we never know what kinds of inner burdens are being carried by the people we interect with on the public desks. 


NAMI is dedicated to changing our perceptions of people with mental illness.  They offer wonderful programs, such as support groups for people who struggle with mental illness or wonder if they are mentally ill, as well as those who care for someone who has a mental illness.  They promote hope, reform and health through support, education, and advocacy.


The 2 presenters were NAMI/CCNS voluneers, and were living with different mental illnesses.  They were very willing to enlighten us in every way possible, and gave me some "scripts" and insights to use at the Reference Desk if necessary.


The most important thing I learned...which I learned far too late to help my family...is that if you must call the police because someone is  losing control, make sure you ask them to send a qualified individual who has had training in dealing with mental illness...and above all do not let the person know you called the police. This can, as we know, backfire disastrously. 


Our presenter illustrated this by relating a personal account. 


I am grateful that NAMI exists, because the public so desperately needs to learn these things, and to have its perceptions changed.


But I feel sad that this information is getting out so slowly.


I wish everyone would learn about NAMI and become part of the healing of our world.

Prayer of Forgiveness from "The Aleph" by Paolo Coelho

I just finished reading The Aleph by Paolo Coelho.  This book is completely enthralling...particularly the Prayer of Forgiveness.

My own prayer of forgiveness evolves.  I will blog about it in a separate blog post.

The prayer that Paolo Coelho includes in The Aleph seemed very significant to me.  In fact the entire book is most significant.  It dovetails with my own experiences and thoughts, and sheds light on them.  Forgiveness is a huge part of being able to survive the experience of losing Maris.  It is the only element in this never-ending nightmare that enables it to make any sense at all.

This prayer articulated much of what has been going through my consciousness.  It is very powerful.

"I forgive [who] I was, not because I want to become a saint but because I do not want to endure this hatred. This tiresome hatred...

I am liberated from hatred by means of forgiveness and love. I understand that suffering, when it cannot be avoided, helps me to advance towards glory...

The tears I shed, I forgive.

The suffering and disappointments, I forgive.

The betrayals and lies, I forgive.

The slandering and scheming, I forgive.

The hatred and persecution, I forgive.

The punches that were given, I forgive.

The shattered dreams, I forgive.

The dead hopes, I forgive.

The disaffection and jealousy, I forgive.

The indifference and ill will, I forgive.

The injustice in the name of justice, I forgive.

The anger and mistreatment, I forgive.

The neglect and oblivion, I forgive.

The world with all its evil, I forgive...

Grief and resentment, I replace with understanding and agreement.

Revolt, I replace with music that comes from my violin.

Pain I replace with oblivion.

Revenge, I replace with victory.

I will be able to love above all discontentment.

To give even when I am stripped of everything.

To work happily even when I find myself in the midst of all obstacles.

To dry tears even when I am still crying.

To believe even when I am discredited...

Thy will be done. Thy will be done."

Sleepless

We are so happy for Maris's good friend Peter.  His band, Marshfield, has just released a new CD, Coping With the Present.  We were pleased and honored to attend the CD release show at the Old Town School of Folk Music on Saturday, November 26.  

What an awesome experience!  these guys are so creative....not to mention energetic!  They completely throw themselves into the music...in fact they seem to BECOME the music.   it is a full body experience with amazing vibes you can feel on every level of your being.


One of the songs, Sleepless, was largely inspired by Maris:

We know it was the worst, but it feels like the first time that we had to say goodbye
Now I'm sleepless again, tossing turning in my bed
Wondering, "why did you go?"


I hold on to my covers, never let them go
The nightmares closing in
The pictures still remind me, of where we've gone and been
Waking me each night


And we knew it was the worst cause it feels like the first time that we had to say goodbye
Now I"m sleepless again, tossing turning in my bed
Wondering, "why did you go?"


Please don't ever think your time was wasted trying to change our lives
Now it's been said, and a memory has been left in my head wondering, "where did you, where did you go?"


The mystery is all but solved now, guesses have been made. We're all left here standing.
Hoping you'll return, come back to me, come back to us


And we knew it was the worst, but it feels like the first time that we, we could feel at ease
Now I"m sleepless again, tossing turning in my bed
Wondering, "why did you go?"


Please don't ever think your time was wasted trying to change our lives
Now it's been said, and a memory has been left in my head wondering, "where did you, where did you go?"
(repeat)


Where did you go?

Maris would have been so completely proud of Peter. Thank you so much to Peter and to Marshfield, you have touched our hearts, and we wish you every possible success.

16 November 2011

Maris was born 24 years ago today at Columbus Hospital in Chicago.  I had been in the hospital on and off for days...weeks.  the doctor had been trying to stop premature labor since the 20th week of pregnancy.  I was so afraid. 

Maris was so premature, he turned out to be a Scorpio rather than a Pisces.

I am sending love and gratitude to his friends, and to everyone who loved him. You brought joy to his life, and are very special to us.

We are so grateful to know you through Maris.  Thank you for being part of our lives.

Your Eternal Self

I attended the IANDS meeting on 12 November 2011.  In the audience was R. Craig Hogan, author of Your Eternal Self.  This interesting book is available online as an e-book.

Here is what Dr. Hogan writes about suicide:

"People who commit suicide are met with compassion and understanding on the next plane of life. There is no judgment or condemnation. However, there is great sadness among all living on the next plane of life when the suicide victim arrives, and he or she feels deep remorse. That person sees the grief family and friends still on Earth suffer, because their thoughts and emotions are known by the person who has committed suicide. Many attend the funeral unseen, and because they then understand that life really is eternal, they realize that they could have worked out the problems and lived full lives with those who loved them on Earth, but now the opportunity is gone. What could have been a wonderful, rewarding life has been cut off. And in the afterlife, the person still has to face and work out the problems he or she was experiencing, but with all the remorse and sadness that accompanies the suicide.
Suicide is not an alternative if the body is free of unbearable pain. Most difficulties will pass with time and the person will live a rewarding life, growing, learning, loving, and experiencing. And the problems still must be faced in the afterlife, with the added burdens of remorse and knowing that nothing can now be done to go back to life to make things better and have a joyful, fruitful lifetime."

Other people at the meeting said that the suicide is received into the next life with great love and compassion, and extra help is given to them.  However, they have to re-do that life, with all its challenges,  because there are lessons they still need to learn and master, and there is no other way to do this than to come back to the physical world and try again.

I have not found a section of the book where Dr. Hogan addresses the effect of bindings from previous lifetimes.

Correspondence re FOID Card

The energy surrounding our family in 2008-9 was not good.

Some time at end of 08 or start of 09 I received something in the mail that I thought was a scam.  Found out too late it was not. It was something from the Police Dept referring to an alias Maris supposedly had, and he had to clear up this problem.  I just couldnot believe it was real, felt it had to be a hoax or a scam, and I very stupidly threw it away.

This message, which seemed so entirely unbelievable, was similar to the visit from the air Force informing us what happened to Maris in that it was very, very hard for my mind to process.  It was a dark and insane experience.   This event was one of the things that contributed to Maris feeling very down, as if everything was against him.

The message said that Maris's fingerprints matched those of a gang member who had a criminal record, and that he was using an alias.

I do not remember the name it said he was using because I very very stupidly threw it away.

Did I also throw away messages from my psyche warning me what Maris was contemplating? 

I felt so bad for him.  He had applied for a Firearm Owner's I D card through the state of Hawaii.  His application was rejected because the Honolulu P D believed his fingerprints matched those of a Hispanic gang member with a criminal record (whose name I unfortunately can't remember) and for this reason he was denied the FOID card.

I consulted some my my friends who were Chicago police.  They suggested Maris re-apply for the FOID card through the state of Illinois because the state of Hawaii had fingerprint equipment that was much less sophisticated than that used by Illinois. 

I had already contemplated asking for help from the FBI because I had no idea what was really going on here.  My friends suggested applying through Illinois because the problem might be on a state level, not a national level.

I had also taken it upon myself to contact the Honolulu police to ask them why this had happened.

I have been very angry at these people ever since.  They insisted Maris was a criminal using an alias.  When I asked them to re-run the fingerprint test, they began to raise their voices at me as if I, too, were a criminal.

I used tobe idealistic.  I used to believe police really did serve and protect.  Now i believe they may do that half the time.  The other half of the time they manage to bring about the conditions they say they are protercting us from.

here is a copy of the email correspondence I had with Maris.

Re: instructions for requesting the document you need

Sunday, March 1, 2009 10:50 AM

From: "Maris Butta" View contact details

To:deeankh@sbcglobal.net

that's what i've been doing.  They don't open until 0745L and close at 1630L.  Staying up cuts too much into my sleep so I wake up early.  I haven't worked on this since I wanted advice from SFS on base and the shirt.  I got the advice to go resubmit my prints which i'll do tomorrow when they open.  If I get denied again then i'll ask for a letter stating why and then go from there.

My supervisors brother is a cop and suggested I talk with the illinois attorney general's office.  I will talk with base legal if i am denied again and see what advice I can get from them.

--- On Sun, 3/1/09, Deena wrote:
Subject: Re: instructions for requesting the document you need
To: praetorian_elite22@yahoo.com
Date: Sunday, March 1, 2009, 10:40 AM

you might have to set aside some time to do this before you go to work one day...or when you get off your shift.

 

imaybe you should call that phone number and ask what are F. Tan's hours, and explain that you  need to request a copy of that letter because you need documentation  in order to submit an appeal .

 

when they send you the letter, make sure you make severl photocopies of it, because you will also need to submit it to chgo police or honolulu police to show them the kind of problem you are having.

 

in order to clear up a problem, first you have to document there is a problem.

 

if they can also provide background on the Torres person, you can submit documentation we have here to provide alibis.

 

i know it is tough with working the late shigy...but you can't let interfere with clearing up this problem, because it is a bad problem.  Bob and Gwen agree with that, and they say it is extremely important to clear your name.

 

you will need to keep this paper trail in a folder so you can document every step of it; and you can also show it to your supervisors.

--- On Sun, 3/1/09, Maris Butta wrote:

Date: Sunday, March 1, 2009, 3:56 AM

Yeah, would be easier but i won't be back on day shift for months.

--- On Sat, 2/28/09, Deena wrote:
Date: Saturday, February 28, 2009, 10:08 PM

ok, Maris.  thanks for taking care of that.  I know it is annoying, but they need to fix the problem.

 

sounds like ti will get easier when you are back on day shift.

 

take care--

 

love,

mom

--- On Sat, 2/28/09, Maris Butta wrote:

Date: Saturday, February 28, 2009, 5:04 AM

That's the guy that told me there was no appeal process in the first place and wasn't willing to help me out at all.  I'll go there on my day off on monday.

I would be doing more if I was not working night shift.  It's hard to talk to people when they are sleeping and businesses are closed.  If I want to get work done I either have to wake up early or stay up late.  It's hard to talk to my chain of command when they are sleeping.

I'm going to go to the PD on my next day off to re-submit my prints and get a letter saying why I was denied a permit in writing.

I'm mailing in my application for illinois FOID today and i'll see where that goes. 

--- On Fri, 2/27/09, Deena wrote:
Date: Friday, February 27, 2009, 7:24 PM

call Honolulu division of firearms at (808)  529-3340.

 

ask for F. Tan. 

 

He is the investigator who sends out the letters and makes the phone calls when permits are denied.  He will send you a nother letter...but you need to call and sk for it, 

 

make sure they have the correct address. ask them where they will be sending it...to chicago?  or to you?  if they send it to you, you will need to send me a copy...

 

In order to  start the appeal process re your firearm permit, you need to have  a copy of the document stating why your request for a permit was denied.

 

they agree it could have got lost in the mail.  they agreed they can send you anotehr one.

 

but you have to call F. Tan and ask for it.

 

once you have this document, we can start some kind of appeal process.  we might have to call a court in chicago, and have them look up your fingerprints here, and see what name they connect with.

 

hope you can do this asap.

 

xoxo

mom""

 

BTW Maris did receive the FOID card from Illinois.  The Illinois State Police caught the error and contacted the Honolulu P D to fix the error in their database.

did they ever do it?  no idea.  Did they ever send a letter of apology?  of course not.

I am trying really hard not to hate people, because life is too short and I do not need the rebound onto my own psyche.  But I have to admit that I feel deep and intense disgust and contempt for the Honolulu P D.  In my own interactions with them, they have behaved  like arrogant, incompetent bullies.

Letter to Philip from Maris

Maris and his brothers attended Gordon Technical High School, which sponsored two Kairos (God’s Time) Retreats for seniors. This is a three day intense program for students who have leadership qualities.  Part of the retreat experience was receiving  letters written by family members.

Maris was away from home, in the Air Force, when he wrote this letter to Philip on October 29, 2007:

"Maris Butta"

 

Hey Philip,

Dude just writing this letter to let you know that i'm proud of you man.  You've been a good bro to me, always some fun shit to do when we hang out together.  Proud of you for doing kickass in school.  Getting A's all the time and being in the NHS.  I never got that since I slacked off in school and never took it seriously but you've done good dude.  Got a good score on the ACT.  I know you're gonna be awesome at whatever you do in life man.  Hope things always go well for you.

Take it easy dude,
Maris"

I was proud of Maris for writing this nice letter to Philip.

October 26, 2011

Today is the 2nd anniversary of the day we lost our dearest Maris.  It seems as if we have been trying to make sense of it forever.  It is the greatest mystery in the universe.  Losing Maris was without a doubt the worst thing that has ever happened to me.  At the same time, knowing now what we know about him, we are grateful that we had him for as long as we did.  My life now revolves a round atonement.  I owe it to maris to learn how to trust my own heart, to believe in myself, to embrace what is incomprehensible, and to recognize The Truth no matter what form it takes.

Maris sent me this rainbow the other day when I was sorting through some things.

I recognize it as a greeting from Maris, and I am sharing it with you.

Philip Writing Award

Philip submitted an entry to a student magazine contest sponsored by the  Association for Education in Journalism and Mass Communication.  His entry placed first of 37 in the category of Consumer Magazine Article About People..

The story he wrote is about Maris. It is called He Jumped, I Followed. 

 Here are the judge's comments about Philip's article:

"Articles—People.  Judge: Dick Stolley, senior editorial adviser at Time Inc. and founding editor of People.

First Place:  “He Jumped, I Followed,” for The New Yorker

Why it won:
"The death by suicide of the author’s older brother leads him into a painful investigation of the reasons why he threw himself off a seven story parking garage in faroff Hawaii. Although we know the outcome, the author manages to create amazing suspense as he interviews his brother’s friends, scrolls through his cell phone, recalls his troubled adolescence and surprising Air Force enlistment. Suicide is the ultimate puzzle, and we never really learn why. But we do achieve an understanding of the 22-year-old himself and grieve for him almost as if we were family members ourselves."

We are very, very proud of Philip.  I know Maris is, too.. 

See a list of winning entries and read the the judges' comments about them.

Chicago Air & Water Show 2011

The Chicago Air & Water Show takes place this weekend.  It was always one of my favorite events. 

we LOVE the Air & Water Show

The kids enjoyed it, too.  We often took a bus down to North Ave. Beach for this annual event.

planes flying in formation over Lake Michigan

A Tuskegee Airman at the Chicago Air & Water Show

Maris was inducted into the Air Force at the 2005 Air and Water Show.

marching to the staging area for the oath

Maris is in the back row, just left of that black podium

taking the oath

taking the oath

the new Airmen were honored by a flyby of a new raptor plane.  Here they are, waiting for it to fly past...

...and here you see turned heads following its progress...I was too slow!

and here they come...so proud!!

I still love the Air & Water Show and I still think the planes are awesome and beautiful.  But I don't go to it any more.  My heart breaks every time I think about it.

Patty Lekawa

In December 2009. Ray visited a foot doctor.  The conversation eventually led to Maris, and the doctor mentioned that his wife had consulted a medium named Patty Lekawa.  It had given her much comfort, answered questions she had, and helped her make sense of things.


We telephoned Patty soon after the doctor told us about her.  Her husband answered the phone, and talked to us for a while. (His name is "Pat" so when you call, you will talk to Pat or Patty...usually Pat.)


He said people who take their own lives tend to feel better as soon as they are out of the body that was causing them so much misery, often doe to faulty brain chemistry.    He said sometimes these spirits do not have much to say at first because they feel embarrassed about the decision they made.  But of course they do not know that at the time, all they want to do is stop the pain.


He told me Patty requires people to listen to an aaudio tape before their first visit, so they can know how Patty works, and what to expect.


he also told me to write a letter to Maris the night before I visit Patty.  I brought along Maris's dog tags because Ray thought Patty would need to handle them to connect with Maris.


This is not the case.  Patty is not doing a reading for Maris.  she is doing one for me.  That is why she wanted to hold something of  MINE not something of Maris's.  I brought along my silver ankh pendant, because it is the object with which I have been in the longest continuous contact (worn almost continuously since 1968)


It took me a year to finally take this step..


I recently paid a visit to Patty.  It was a very good experience.  I can highly recommend Patty, and am happy to refer people to her.


Patty does not allow people to tape their session with her; but she does encourage them to take notes.  She also writes down thoughts that come to her onto a yellow notepad, and at the end of the session she gives them to the client.


Here are the notes from March 18.


 Patty starts a reading by holding hands with the client and praying for healing energy.  She is a Reiki teacher.  The she  tries to identify the family relationships among the spirits who come.  She needs feedback to know she is reading for the correct person (sometimes the reading can be for someone else in the same vicinity...if that happens, she gives back the money and re-schedules the reading for another day). John Edward says some readings fail because people do not know their family tree well enough to recognize the spirit who is trying to come through.


Patty got the letters "A L" and asked me if I had a son whose name starts with those letters.


That would be Alex.


She said there was a handsome young man standing behind me saying "Hello Mother." She saw him salute, and asked me if he was in the military.  He said "I'm so glad you are here.  I couldn't wait, I couldn't wait."


(This was my first visit to a medium.  I should have asked a question here, to clarify if he meant "couldn't wait to talk to me?" or "couldn't wait any longer in this lifetime."  Next time I will know I can ask these questions either during the reading or after.)


Maris and I used to talk on the phone frequently when he was in Hawaii.    This is the longest I have ever gone without talking to him.  I couldn't wait, either.  I miss him unbearably.


Patty said her throat seemed to close up.  She said she could not swallow. (Maris's lungs were sensitive due to his experiences in the preemie nursery.  He developed asthma in high school.  The first time he had an attack we had no idea what was happening and rushed him to the ER. His throat closed up and he could not breathe.  Was this what she meant?  or was it that on his last day, his friends said  he was not speaking?  had his throat closed up?  was he not speaking because he was unable to? they said he did not talk on the phone, but sent some text messages instead.  Why?  I should have asked for clarification.)


Patty said it felt to her as if someone had grabbed her ankle, and was brushing their hands around her legs or ankles.  She asked me if Maris had something going on with his legs or ankles.


(Spirits indicate something about health or body by pointing to that part of themselves, or an another person.  the medium only conveys the info about the body part, but cannot interpret what it means to the sitter.  In this case  it was not until the next day I wondered if  the ankle referred to myself because i injured my left ankle by falling down the stairs a few years ago and it has hurt ever since.  But Maris had shin splints that caused pain when he ran.  So it seemed to refeer to both of us.)


She told me Maris said he is with us every minute.  He says "I get the cats riled up."  Patty says he plays with the cats.


She also asked me about an Egyptian connection.  Maris told her about Isis and Horus.  She asked me if Isis was the Queen.  I said that Isis was the mother of Horus. 


Patty said Maris was learning from Horus, but that Horus is under the supervision of Master Abraham.  


She said Maris was standing between my Dad and Ray's Dad. 

Patty said Ray's Mom appeared with Maris.  She blew me a kiss and a hug and said "Honey, we have him.  Do not worry."   Patty said then my own Mom also appeared and said "Hello, Dear." , Patty said Mom is a "strong stern lady." Mom blew me a kiss and hug and said "It's OK."  

Patty says I have a very big hole in my heart and Maris says "Time to heal, time to heal." Patty says I am ready to heal and I must heal. 

She says Maris is not dead. " He just took off his skin."  He is with us every moment.  He checks in on Alex and Philip often. Patty says his spirit is at our side. Maris said  "Every waking moment we are at your side."

Patty says occasionally they split up to help someone else.  But then they turn back again.  She saw maris turn and put his hands out like the Ka hieroglyph around someone, and a moment later he turned back again. She  asked about someone named Helen.  Probably Auntie Helen, my Mom's best friend.  Patty said Aunt Helen came to say hello, too.

She said Maris says "Relax, you have to relax."  Patty said to stop my "anxiousness."  i.e. "need to know"," let go of control."  She says it will be easier for Maris to come through if I relax.

Patty saw the image of a branch.  She tried to figure out which branch of the military Maris and Alex  are connected with.  She thought Marines and Army.

(The questions I wrote down to ask  were not the right ones.  I am new at talking to mediums and spirits. Fortunately Patty has been doing this a long time and asked some questions for me)

  Maris said "Yes!  Yes! there were shenanigans."

(I should have asked what he meant by "shenanigans."  This might refer to things people around him did.  The police, the military, others).  

Patty said in order to really get to the bottom of what happened, Ray and I would need to hire a lawyer, to get to the right people. Certain individuals would need to be subpoenaed. She said Maris did not want us to go through this, it would be a long expensive process and in spite of the shenaniganss, it was Maris's choice.   She asked him if the military was at fault.  Maris replied, "Not really."

Maris needs me to know  two important things:

1)  Everything is in divine order

and

2)There are no (never) any accidents or coincidences.

You can look for all the "Why's."

Maris says "Clearly I am so sorry.  I never wanted to cause you and Dad and my brothers so much pain. Please release this hurt and anger.  Mom, forgive.  Let it go now.  No blame, no guilt, no shame.  Please hear me. Please please let it go. Please release this."

Patty said she kept feeling touches on her legs...something about walking.  

(Was it about all the hikes? the shin splints? he ran so much it gave him shin splints, and took long to heal up.  Not being able to run was hard for him)

Patty sensed something about a young child and a stuffed animal.

(was it Sheepy?)

She said one of the kids had an imaginary playmate. 

 (Alex and Philip denied it was them.  Could it have been Maris?  maybe it was me.  I had many imaginary playmates.) 

Patty told me about thinking on different generational levels.  Sometimes "above" means a previous generation; "below" can mean a future generation or a child.  She said "To be a spirit child or children."  Patty thinks these playmates might not have been imaginary.  They might be spirit children of  deceased siblings.  

(I had a miscarriage in 1986 of twin girls, and one later, maybe 1987.)

Patty said she saw two boys and a girl with Maris.  She said sometimes a female with more masculine traits will come across as male.  She needs feedback to be able to differentiate.    We knew the twins were girls because the doctor told us.  We have no idea what the later one was.  Also Patty said I have a deceased brother.  I knew Mom had a miscarriage when I was very young.  Patty says it was a boy.  These spirit children are with Maris.  Maris said to Patty, "Tell her I am with her brother."  He also said "Tell my mom I am standing next to a sibling." and "Hello from Auntie Helen."

She said the spirit of Helen felt like a dear aunt. 

(Yes, that is what she was to me.  Aunt Helen had a son and a daughter.  When i was in high school, the son died mysteriously.  In retrospect, I think he was seriously depressed.  One day he was found dead on his bed.  there was a bottle of pills but no idea what they were.  This son, named Richard wojcik, was a very kind person.  At the time I knew nothing about depression.  Richard never went out of the house.  He watched TV all day, mostly baseball.  He ate way too much food.    He would sometimes call my mother and want to talk to her.  Mom was Richard's godmother.  Sometimes the phone would ring, and Mom would answer it, and no one answered.  she often speculated this might be Richard calling her but not saying anything.  When Richard died, the phone calls stopped.  I have often contemplated the similarities between Richard and Maris, and wondered if Maris might be Richard incarnated.  It might explain why Aunt Helen kept appearing in this reading.)

Spirit of another lady came through, gave the letter "E"  I do not know if this is Aunt Ev (who is still alive) or Aunt Estelle (Mom's cousin) or Emilia, who was Mom's baby sister who died around 1916-1918.  Patty said she only got an E, no other letters.  Patty saw a Star of David around this lady and wondered if there was a Jewish connection or a Jewish business thing. She had an image of them shaking hands, as if on a business deal.   No idea what this might mean.  But Patty said to do everything to enrich that relationship. Our family may have Jewish ancestors without knowing it.  My mitochondrial DNA is Haplogroup K1.

At that point, Patty told me to look out the window to see the hawk that was sitting on an electric pole outside.  What a blessing! and maybe a message from Horus.

Patty told me I need to push myself to do more healing arts or Reiki for other people.  She said this would enrich my internal growth and strengthen my faith. "Pushing Deena towards internal growth."    "Enrich you."  "Faith = believe without seeing.  Enrich your intuitiveness.

Patty asked me if I knew what spirit kisses felt like.  She said they feel like a feathery touch, a tickle on your cheek, a bug in your hair, a tickle on your nose,  or a hair you can't brush away.

Maris says, "I kiss you every day."  

Sometimes spirits express themselves as ringing in your ear, a smell of smoke, fragrance of cologne (e.g. Old Spice or Polo), cooking smells, flowers (e.g. roses or lilacs),...Spirits love to make sounds such as knocks, raps, and taps..  They also love to play with electricity, like the light, TV, phone, or radio going on and off.  Sometimes the phone will ring but the message is "no data sent;" sometimes this is spirit.    Start paying attention to these, and just acknowledge the spsirits are here.  The fragrances may have different meanings for different people.

Maris says, "Mom, I hear you every day, every night.  I am so with you.  I know what you wrote in my letter, I understand...I understand...I understand...I understand.."

He showed Patty a large shamrock.  Patty said Maris said "Please draw the shamrock."  She also saw a shillelagh and the Blarney Stone. She asked if we are Irish, or if we are planning a trip to Ireland.  She says Maris wants for us to go to Ireland, and is doing everything possible to make it a reality.  He says "GO!"  

Patty asked Maris again "Did anyone do anything to you?" and he said "No."  

She asked him "Did you take your own life?" and he said "Yes."  

She asked him, "Was the military at fault?" and he said "No, not really."  

She asked "Do we need to get an attorney? Should there be a lawsuit?   

to which he answered "No, no, no.  Mom, I am responsible for my own actions, it was my choice.  Listen to me!  I am responsible, I am so sorry, I never meant to.  I felt like I could not live up to certain things."  Patty said Maris was in pain, he just wanted the pain to stop.

He says "Please understand --I've had to do my soul review--I know all that now--I was depressed--I am different now--I just wanted the pain to stop.  I couldn't live up to what I thought people wanted me to be."

He felt he had to be what others wanted him to be.  He tried to fit in, and be all he could be--he bought into that and could not meet those expectations.  

He said, "Am I happy?  no...but I am at peace, and i need you to know that.  I have the best of the best around me.  Jesus came and guided me.  And Mother Mary held me in her arms and told me I was safe."

Patty asked if there was an autopsy.  She saw no drugs.

Patty thinks Maris was bipolar, and asked me if he was ever checked for dopamine levels, etc.  She says in hindsight with proper meds he might have overcome thbe depression .  But Maris says "It is what it is.  You did nothing wrong.  In no way are you at fault."

Patty could tell Maris was involved with computers

He said there was a girl who broke up  with him.  He said "I was devastated."  He really, really cared for her, and could not believe it dissolved.  Patty said he could not overcome this deep darkness.

Maris talked about a ring that he wants to give to Philip, and a medallion that he wants Alex to have.  Patty was not exactly sure what this was.  It might be a badge, tags, or something else.  He says it is something I need to pass along to them.  

She also says I need to let go of his stuff because i spend too much time inhaling the aroma of his clothes.

Well, I will try.  But it may take a while.

So that was what I recorded about my reading with Patty.

I should have asked more questions of Maris about his experiences, and not so many about thinhgs I wanted to know that he might have the answer to....

I should have asked about the police.  And gotten a couple names.

I asked Patty what does it mean when I wake up in the middle of the night, and feel very bad very down, and am unable to fall back  asleep?  She said when that happens to her, she gets up and sits in a certain chair and gives spirit some special alone time.  sometimes she falls back asleep.

I asked her how I can best help Maris now.  She said to help him by talking to him.  Every day, ask God to use light for the highest good, take the love and use it for the highest good.

Then Patty's timer rang, and that was the end of the reading.

I hope to go back to Patty some time, now that I know what it is like to be read by a medium.