Published by Shelley Cartwright Metje · July 19 · 

This week has been difficult for Bob and me. Not only have we written 6 checks for funerals, we’ve spoken to four completely different groups about our journey with Corey’s murder.

There comes a time in every murder victim’s journey that they have built a wall around their heart to avoid further damage. But this wall is more like the bags of sand used to keep a flood from reaching your home. With time, the wall degrades, or the waters overtake it.

I’m not saying I don’t want to tell our story… I’m saying that my wall of sand around my heart has grown thin under the pressure.

It’s really hard for someone like me to say no when I’m asked to stand up and talk about my son. I want to stop others from hurting the way we have for almost 6 years.

But I am constantly reminded by Bob to take care of myself. Today, after I spoke to a group of teens, I came home and clocked in for my other job. Immediately after I was finished working, I fell asleep for almost 3 hours.

By the time I awakened, dinner was already late. Bob didn’t complain. He let me sleep, because he knows how this wears on my mind, body, and soul.

I’m going to take some time this weekend to rebuild my walls of sand. I’ll watch some movies. I’ll probably do some coloring, and I’m sure there is a pint of Ben and Jerry’s somewhere with my name on it… But I’ll do this because someone, somewhere, will need to hear about my son.

Please recognize when you need to rebuild as well. Someone, somewhere, needs you.

And maybe… just maybe… we will need each other.