Now growing up I would notice how my sister would get the best treatment from my mom and sometimes my dad. My mom would buy her always almost anything she wanted. Though not name brand, her closet was plentiful. My dad would beat her too. I later learned that he did more than just beat her. My father always had a sexual addiction, which explains his fifteen children and others he won’t admit to even until his dying day. Nevertheless, I would accept my sister receiving more than us boys. I understood that she was a girl and girls require special attention. So we thought, until we noticed special attention becoming blatant neglect of basics for us. What I do remember was my mother putting the down payment for my first saxophone. I paid the monthly notes, but was still very grateful for that. My saxophone gave me so much meaning, joy and peace. Also, since I wasn’t that much of a singer like my mother it was my tribute to the Lord. My mother has a voice that could rival most gospel singers. So, I would play my heart out for the Lord--many times played with such passion I was reduced to tears. I was the one that was favored with friends and family or church members because of my strong desires to be a Christian. I painfully remember the words of many who warned me to stay away from my brothers; yet, I would say they are my brothers. To you all-- you were right--I am sorry.

During those later years things started getting even worse between my father and the family. He had gotten to the point where he’d leave my mom for months or a year at a time--only to move back in again. He would always accuse her of cheating. I think it had to do with us moving out of the ghetto to the suburbs. He could not live junky there; the neighborhood civil club wouldn’t allow it. Finally, people weren’t able to call us names, like Sanders & Son. I wasn’t embarrassed when people would come over or stay the night and trip over junk. My mom did manage to keep his junk (so called work equipment) out of the main parts of the house.

I had finally built up the nerve to run away at seventeen. I moved in with two friends. It did not last long. I hadn’t moved long until a very bad thing happen. I had gotten a page from home that my dad pulled a gun out on my mother. Things were out of control when I arrived. My dad left the next day or so and I moved back home. Now with my father out of the home, I felt it was time we rebuild the family love and togetherness. So I tried, made sacrifices and gave all that I could. It seemed I was the only one trying to build the family. Many times I was knocked down but I refused to give up trying.

All of the turmoil had a tremendous effect on my education and apparently my well being. I didn’t want to go to school. Without having the pressure of my father around I could probably have began my life as a teenager since my childhood was already destroyed. I was failing in every course, poor attendance and suspended more than I can recollect. I began drinking with the neighborhood thugs.

Things in his family began to happen and he began to be pulled by his desire to “save the family”. I’ve often thought back to the many times in the beginning he told me of the pain he endured as a child. He showed me the lump in the front of his head where his father hit him with a hammer. He told me of the many times he went to school with arms so swollen and bruised he could not pull down his sleeve from being beaten with closet poles. He told me how they were made to work in elementary school instead of attending regularly. He said that he could barely read his senior year of high school when he ran from home to escape the abuse. He told me about the relationship with his siblings; stating they blamed each other to avoid being tortured by their father. For this, they never learned to protect one another, but survive. I do remember the pain in his voice as he told me how coming home from school he was panic stricken the moment his yard came in view and he saw his father’s truck. Guns to their heads, iron rakes slung in their backs, pounding fists, pain, suffering, abuse, denial, betrayal-- story after story was told about a sadistic father, denying mother and a school system with seven siblings visibly scarred that dismissed it. I did not make the connection between his childhood and his need to be the family savior.  He felt if he just tried harder, always trying harder, that he would find the right thing that would bring them together. Where he and I began to have problems is everything began to hinge upon his desire to serve save or protect. He thought if he could be with them that somehow they would want to be caring brothers. He no longer wanted to be home with me, he wanted to be across town with them. He did not want to give money for our home --he gave money to his family. The more he gave, the more they took, and the worse it made him feel. In March, Shaun and I were expecting our first baby. He inquired about going into the military. He wanted us to travel around the world with him. We both were dealing with a lot and unlike problems before at the same time. I had gestational diabetes and he had a dysfunctional family and neither of us was capable of understanding what the other was feeling. I was convinced that my problems were greater than his. When I had endure all that I could, I told him to go. I wasn’t clean and clear of faults. For a long time, I treated him like a pet. I tried to control him with my own issues. I think the worst was not allowing him to be “man” in my life. Nevertheless, during that time, he would come back daily to see how I was doing. I resented his presence but soon realized what I had not been able to see, that something was wrong. I knew then that things were weighing heavily on him. He told me that he had been living with his brothers across town. He told me that his brothers introduced him to someone. I didn’t understand why he told me that and if so, why he still wanted me. I was more concerned about his mental state and was not bothered. Like it or not, I let him go and would not allow him to come back. All that I could comprehend was all that I could not comprehend about him. The last time I saw him we shared things that we had not in months. He seemed conflicted and confused and for the first time in a long time I asked him to stay. He said he shouldn’t. I told him that he was being used and that if they only wanted him around for what he could give them, then they didn’t love him. Before he left, he turned around to me, looked me deeply in my eyes and said, “I’ve never stopped loving you, Gina”. I said, “I’ve never stopped loving you, Shaun”.
He came back and kissed me on my forehead as he did every morning before work. Then, he left. Not many days pass that I don’t wonder how things would have been different if I, at that moment, had convinced him to stay.

Three days later, I received a phone call from him late Sunday night.
His voice was weak and distressed. He said, “I am sorry for everything that I have done to you. I’m sorry baby. I am so sorry baby.” The following day everything fell on me like an anvil. I remember lying face down on the floor, screaming and crying. I would place a wind-up music bear on my stomach and let it play for hours, to our baby while I was emotionally broken down.
I was unemployed, my car was thereafter repossessed, and I was facing eviction, 5 months pregnant now insulin dependant and my estranged “fiancé” was possibly facing the death penalty. The worst of this was having to combat his family. How Shaun survived this time I do not know? They ignored his cries for help. They blamed him. They would look him in the face and call him a liar. I would tell him all the time, that there will come a day that they will sweep this too under the rug. They will pretend like it never happened; but I intend to see to it that they never forget how they treated you.  I told them frankly what I thought of them every opportunity about their refusing one to save the other.

The other attorney met with the family weekly.  Shaun’s attorney never called nor did the family call him. They didn’t want Shaun to defend himself. It was the perfect situation for an attorney to take advantage of.  It would be for Shaun, a perfect storm.   I have no words that could describe what I felt during those times.  Meanwhile, Shaun became my greatest inspiration. Times were pretty hard and stressful. I experienced everything: food lines, shelters, and public assistance. But, I had God and I had Shaun. For that reason, today, I can admit those things with a grin and a shrug.
We cried together, hurt together, laughed together, loved together. It was us against the world. Going downtown every other day was not easy. I got his car that spilled raw gas as you put it in the tank. No heating, no valid stickers, no insurance and for some reason seemed to crank when it wanted too. I can remember going to him, choking on fumes, praying that I would make it back. Strangely those times with him incarcerated pretrial were some of the best times. They were joyful, hopeful, and funny, sad, disappointing, loving and endearing. We learned how to appreciate all the things we overlooked about one another. We began to love each other on a spiritual level. Mostly, we hoped and dream of how our rebirth would change us forever. We were going to move away. I was going forward with school. He wanted to explore all things he felt impossible. During the months following up to the trial we continued to beg his mother for support and she continued to ignore us; even after the brother was not found guilty.
After his attorney came in May he did not see him again until February of the next year. No visits came from the family or his attorney, just us.  For one week, I sat there and witnessed the most pathetically gross display of injustice.  Unfortunately, I witnessed Shaun choke back his tears, particularly as his brother testified.
He looked over at me and tried to smile but could not. I gave him our chin up motion, which meant, “pick your head up.” He would scratch his chest above his heart, which meant, “I love you”. Shaun and I just wanted one opportunity to have our family, to live together in celebration of God, life and love, until the day we die. That would be denied. Never in my life had I been so consistent and devoted spiritually, prayerfully, and faithfully for and through such duration of events. After his sentencing, I walked away with my child and spoke these five words. I said, “Thank you for being God.”

About a month passed before he would be shipped away. First nearby, then to the upper border of the state. It was far. However, by this time, my circumstances were better. The first year I was unable to visit him. The second year I saw him with his mother perhaps every three months. For our first visit, he held me for what seemed like an eternity and it felt like I had been healed. I had such a rush of peace, the kind of peace that you yearn for. I learned to appreciate a touch, an embrace. I learned to appreciate intimacy and all those things you give up, when you give in. I could write a book on sexless intercourse. He made me feel complete.

Shaun fit in prison like as much as I would. He did not. Socially I could tell him many things about people but this was prison. He had a hard time because he could not adapt. Having me around did not help him. It was good and bad for him. Suffice it to say, I was a distraction. Yet, I know that if I were not around he would be dead by now. He remarked of the many times his mind went back to that night, especially with all the prison murders he witnessed, and how he nearly lost his mind. It reminded me of when this first happened how he would call me in disbelief and despair over being caught up in such a situation. Many times he said to me he wished he had listened to me, he wished his brother dead, he wished he were dead. He lived with consuming sorrow and regret. He said he hoped to someday be able to give something back to that family. I told him someday we would. Nevertheless, he preached to the other inmates about God and better ways. I warned him that would be the fastest way to make enemies. How he survived the last year there is God because he was on his way to a black bag with a long zipper.
The inmates and guards were now conspiring to kill him. He begged us (his mother and I) to have him moved from that unit. I explained to her that she (the mother) needed to do this.  I wrote and made calls pretending to be his mother. Nearly two years later she wrote the letter and by God, he was moved in the very nick of time. I feared that any day I would be receiving “the call”. I got a letter from him that Sat. telling me he had been moved one hour away. I went to him the next day. I’ve continued to go since. I remember way back when in July of 1997. Shaun asked me how long could I wait for him. I said baby I can’t give you something that is not mine. I can’t promise you years Shaun. I can’t. All that I can give you is one day at a time. That was over six years ago. So many things have happened. Not all were sunshine and roses. He got his GED; but you would really think he graduate college. He is so well spoken. I listen in awe of his conversation today, unlike before. He no longer tries to entertain me. He is quite the mature one, very comfortable and secure in his person. I remember having a confrontation with one of the guards and before I could gather my thoughts Shaun had handled it. I was partly jealous and completely impressed. I was no longer in control (wearing the pants) and it actually felt good. His words, his thoughts now command my attention and respect. I love him truly, but clearly, I am completely in love with a different man than the one I met years ago. We have both been made better people. I often tell Shaun it is not the destination, it’s the journey. He has come to accept my faith and devotion to our family. I know sometimes he is astonished that I have been faithful to him, without friends, lovers, phone calls, dates, through indictments, convictions, appeals, denials! I have been consistent about my love to only him. How can I pray to be with him if I have been everywhere else? Also, AIDS and pedophiles are a very strong deterrent. I don’t know how to not love him. I don’t expect others to understand but I would rather have someone who makes me feel good, who never takes me for granted, who loves and adores me every moment that he can, as opposed to someone making my life a living hell every day. Never having a kind word and unappreciative. Shaun calls me Queen. And he is steadfast on what he values. His queen, his princess, coming home and spending the rest of his life devoted to those things and its happiness.
We are both still consistent in our faith and belief that we deserve a chance.   During a visit he said, “I have nothing but respect for you; respect and love. If you must go, you go.  I won’t ever have a negative word to say because you left. I will get through it some how. You did not do this to us. I did. I will only hate myself. I will only be waiting here for you to come back or searching to find you when I'm released.” He held our daughter a bit tighter. Looked up at me and saw the tears in my eyes. I saw his. He said, “I don’t want you to leave me. I don’t believe I am going to do all those years. I want this (our family) so much. There is just nothing greater than God or more important than us, remember? I love you.”