Tuesday, July 21st, 1999

I set up the Bethanie Gardner Fund today. I'd always hoped that I'd be doing that to pay for her college or wedding. I never imagined I'd be doing it for her burial. More offers of help have come in from friends. I hope they don't all forget. All people want to help in a tragedy like this, but when their pain fades, often times their intentions fade with it. Pure pain will go on; each time it fades something comes along to rip open the wound again and start the bleeding anew Today I sit, hurting, but not crying yet. Waiting for the phone to ring, waiting for the coroner, Dr Platt, to call and schedule an appointment that will so graphically paint the picture of our little girls' last hours. I don't think I can bear it, but I know I must. My mind knows that Bethanie is forever gone, but heart just keeps screaming to just give her back. Giver her back and we'll do it different this time, not let her die. But there are no second chances for this. Our precious little girl is a butterfly now, free in the heavens where she suffers no more. The suffering is now up to us, and suffer is what we do, all we do. Everything causes pain. Babies in restaurants, cartoons, the color pink, talk of death, talk of life; there is no escape, pain is everywhere every minute of every day. Tomorrow I return to work. I wonder how many tears I'll shed just trying to get through the day. I don't want to go, don't want to stay home. I just want my baby back.

At 3pm Dr Platts calls. He says he can't release autopsy details until after the trial and that Det. Gaines must have been mistaken. I know that Det. Gaines said to call right away. I feel like we've suffered dread and anticipation for nothing, only to remain in limbo for as long as the judicial system chooses. We are now just puppets, with the law being the puppeteer.