Does it…ever? Is it because the holidays are approaching and Thanksgiving was the last holiday we had together? Probably but I feel shredded inside, my blood is slogging through my veins sustaining life that I don’t want. My eyes are continuously red and swollen. Pity party of one? Yes God yes, I am wallowing in the self-pity of losing my child, and why not it isn’t like in the four years shes been gone I have had anyone to talk to about her. My “family” doesn’t understand the pain and my lashing out so they fight with me and disown me. If my husband could remember I am sure he would say the usual “it will be ok” Gah how I resent him for not going to her memorial service with me! I did everything packed, booked tickets , made the arrangements for his mother and other family members, what did he do when our daughter passed he flippin stayed home because he couldn’t leave the dog alone!!! The damn dog was more important. No I don’t expect at this late date for anyone to help me through this I just want my life to be over, so I don’t have to deal with this pain anymore.
4 years 9 months and 15 hours ago my oldest daughter passed away by another’s hand, every day in all this time I have cried and grieved as I miss her so much. That day changed me forever more than anyone can or will ever understand, others grieve for her, but no one can understand the grief a mother feels.
Chasing the minutes, the hours of each day
Continuing the fight to keep the lump in my throat
and the tears away
Emotions in chaos, out of control, highs and lows
The hole in my heart, the void so hard to bear
I thank God for each day he let me hold you near
Have a beautiful birthday in heaven my beautiful daughter
Klysta LaNell Breshears
August 20, 1969 ~ February 19, 2011
ARID HEART She walks among the grass and weeds hearing the crunch of land gone arid. The land is as dry and brown as her heart feels this day Her mind trying to wrap around all that has happened and all that is to come From abandonment as a child, molestation, death and dishonor the trauma in her life would be a best selling story in fact and in fiction for those non-believers. Yet, nothing, nothing compares to the last six months of her life life what a word , we banter it around without realizing what we are saying. Life, rife, strife, trauma , drama five words to define her entire 60 years. Yet, nothing, nothing compares to the last six months of her life. The call she received that started this nightmare echoes in her head over and over. All the subsequent calls to the detective, with always the same answer ‘nothing’ God her heart hurts and her faith comes and goes, the tears, the tears they flow without provocation. Her daughter passing six months ago on the 19th, her birthday on the 20th of this month. How do you cope with THAT she thinks, a child you carried under your breast, nurtured and nestled. A child you heard cry through the deepest of sleeps; which you needed so badly to find she just needed your touch. The first step; the first tooth all because you ate right, rested took your vitamins and loved her father. God’s plan came into play …to hear her cry or her laughter, something you only hear distant echoes of now in your mind. Passing a shelf or table with her picture, hearing a song you used to sing to or with her, God what were you thinking? as she turns to walk back. Hearing a cricket reminds her of the first time she showed her how to catch one and put it in the match box with holes for it to breathe. Telling her crickets are good luck and they help you sleep. Spraying her best perfume one night and Lysol the next under her bed to scare away the monsters ..”mommy don’t forget my closet” she calls as you walk out of her Barbie decorated room. Ahh the memories and now, now she, she is only half alive, trying to be strong for the rest of the family when all she wants to do is stand on a mountain top screaming. The chore she has immediately ahead of her is one of great apprehension; for she must go to her daughter’s home and sort through her things. Choosing memories for others. This walk of her life , her Life’s Journey as she calls it has taken many paths ; never, never any as long or arduous as this path, this journey of dread. God let me live through this let my heart survive, give me strength and understanding and faith to carry through.
Hello, welcome to my blog! I started a mother’s sorrow after filling a page on my original blog (myownheart.me) about my beautiful daughter Klysta. Within this blog are my heart, soul , tears and anguish of losing my daughter when she was 41. After being beat to near death , lingering in pain for three days, her “man” poisoned her. Her story is here in all these writings somewhere I am sorry that you must dig through all the other heart pourings but maybe something will resonate with your heart. Thank you for visiting. God Bless
I AM FEELING THE HURT AND AGONY TONIGHT, I AM NOT ASKING SYMPATHY JUST DOING WHAT I PROMISED KEEPING HER STORY AND NAME OUT THERE FOR ALL TO REMEMBER AND MAYBE SOMEDAY TELL ME WHY…
My oldest daughter Klysta, lived in the Lake of the Ozarks area of Missouri. She and her husband Scott had parted ways but not divorced for whatever reason, he went on to meet and began living with someone else and Klysta (pronounced like Krista only with an ‘L’) went her way.
She met and fell in love with Ralph Chapman and they were together eleven almost twelve years. He was a hometown boy and the local handyman helping with anything and everything to make a living. This being a tourist area work was slim in the off season and they lived hand to mouth. Klysta a very intelligent woman could master anything she set her mind to, she once applied for a position with Ford Motor Co. while living in California, never having had any training in an admin position, she went to the library and in less than a week was proficient enough in all the required computer skills and admin tasks to be hired at a nice salary, cell phone, car etc., she held that position longer than most expected. She had two sons Michael and Demetrius while living in California and oh what a joy they are.
Late January of 2011, Klysta called said “momma I want to come home I need my momma time” this was not unusual she did this quite often, so I purchased her train ticket for Feb. 20th, Sunday 3:00 pm arrival. She called me that Wed. the 16th early afternoon, said she wanted to tell me something; seems she had a black eye and she had gotten it falling off a ladder, when I questioned her ( I’m her momma I could tell she was not telling the truth)she said in a whisper” momma Ralph did it and when I get home you and Daddy or somebody need to come get the rest of my stuff because I’m not coming back, this is the last time I swear”. I asked did she want me to come right then and get her, she said no, she would be home Sunday. Ok so that was the plan, then on Saturday Morning at 8:35 the phone rings and Ralph is crying really hard.
I thought he was saying Demetrius was gone her youngest son, finally a man came on identified himself as Dr. Bill Jones, Morgan County Corner, “Is this mother of Klysta Lanell Breshears?” Yes” I answered” I am sorry to say your daughter has died” my heart stopped my mouth opened screaming, and screaming, my husband was in the bathroom came out I had thrown the phone. I looked at him and very calmly said” Klysta is dead.” I called Dusti Jean and told her on the phone, my God how could I do that to her, my gentle hearted child? I told her to call her sister Andrea. My sisters and my brothers I called all the while throwing money from the safe into a bag, credit cards, underwear and no bras, shirts I took 5 shirts and only the jeans I had on. I took a minute and a half shower crying, screaming, answering the phone; at 9:10 we got in the car (my husband never drives unless we are in his truck) he drove that day, the whole time (5 hours) I cried telling him to hurry she needed me I had to see for myself and whatever babble came out, somewhere along the way we met up with my other two daughters and my baby sister and her husband they live down in that area as well. We all arrived at the mobile home Klysta and Ralph lived in and Ralph’s sister Gwen lives right next door with her family, they took us into their home, when I walked in Ralph cried out “Mom she’s gone” and collapsed in my arms. We went to the funeral home in Versailles where they had taken her and they made us wait a few minutes she was being drained so they cleaned her up, placed a beautiful soft- blanket of multi colored velvet over her body. She still had a little blood on her lips but she was clean I guess. I had collapsed at the funeral home door so they took my cane and put me in a wheel chair, my sis wheeled me in and there was my baby, my beautiful baby one whole side of her face a massive bruise; bruises up and down her arms, her eyes, her neck, her lips, I brushed back her hair I picked her up at her shoulders and held her and cried quietly making humming and shushing sounds to soothe her. I ran my finger over the top of her ear that always soothed her and calmed her spirit. They told me not to but I held her first when she was conceived and born I would hold her in death!
Others came and went in the room; they finally made me go to the family room to make arrangements. Ralph stayed outside of the funeral home when we first arrived there, said he couldn’t bear to see her like that. Scott her husband was there …??? Her boys still didn’t know family was tracking them down they had played at a basketball tournament out of town and had stayed with friends; I don’t really remember what they said.
While we were all seated around this table talking about the autopsy and cremation, my daughter Dusti- Jean walked in and looked directly at Ralph and said ” what the f__ happened to my sisters face” I told her shush it was for later. I ordered crosses with her ashes for her boys and sisters and two close cousins, ashes in an angel urn for myself the rest we would put in the lake as she wished when the weather warmed, this being February in the winter of southern Mo. We had a Memorial Service in April at the Gravois Mill Arm of the lake. After arrangements were made we all went back to Gwen’s house they were very sympathetic and told the many stories, that later when I could think somewhat clearly made me ask questions. Klysta had gone to a bar Wednesday night (this was later proved a falsehood she did not go to any bar any night, or that week) got into a fight with some girl, then her and Ralph fought when he went to get her or as they were going down the road she jumped out of the truck and fell in a ditch he punched her to get her back in the truck to get her home.. Another story (all of these within a couple of hours of one another) was that she and Ralph got into it out in the middle of the lane and went to fisticuffs with each other, this story I might believe; we have these three stories, then he says she was sick on Friday felt like she had the flu and was very tired. Her son Demetrius tried to go in the bedroom to see her at 7:30 Friday morning as she was to have driven him to court for a speeding ticket appearance that day. As he approached his mother’s room Ralph closed the door and wouldn’t let him in there said she had hit the bottle pretty hard and was sick. Demetrius says he saw her for just a minute she was leaned up against the head board with her chin on her chest drool flowing and a towel or sheet over top of her head and eyes closed. Said she looked really sick and when he tried harder to get in Ralph said he would take him to court which was unusual as he never took the boys anywhere.
Ralph said he came home from work at noon gave her a couple spoons of chicken soup she said she was too tired to eat and laid back down in the bed. He left and when he returned home that evening she was asleep he ate checked on her; she was sleeping. He lay on the sofa to watch TV and fell asleep when he got up that next morning he went in to check on her and she was gone. He went to his sister’s she had some knowledge of illness as she worked in nursing facility for the elderly she checked Klysta and called 911. Paramedics worked on Klysta for a while to no avail they then called the coroner and then took her right to funeral home.
My husband and I came back home that very day , what was I going to do they were doing autopsy and cremation over next two days I couldn’t help her, I couldn’t do a damn thing to help her . My children didn’t want me near them because when they said Mom he did this to her I said” oh no he couldn’t have” they assumed I was taking his side and they left so did her boys. I could not go to her house yet but Ralph brought her new puppy to me said” mom do you want her puppy I can’t take care of it,” he was crying I said “yes of course” Klysta had named him “Joseph” due to his multi- colored coat but we have a niece named Jo and I had to change it to K.D. (Klysta’s Dog), he has been my constant companion since.
Prior to leaving the Ozarks I asked Ralph to come outside with me and we sat on a bench in his sister Gwen’s yard and I looked him straight in the eyes and face asking him to tell me the truth, tell me what happened to my daughter!. The story was she got drunk they fought he punched her in the eye and that was it. He was so damn sincere but I knew in my heart I knew but what was I to do at that moment I was in shock; my husband was just as lost as I was.
The girls and both of Klysta’ s boys stayed at her house that night with Dusti and Eric sleeping in the bed Klysta died in no wait I am sorry Andrea and Devlin, came back with us to Kansas City, she needed to be back there but would drive back down the next day. Andrea was so good at keeping us informed and staying in touch with authorities and helping with calls and such I truly miss her as well. Anyway Ralph stayed at his sisters, Demetrius in his room. Michael ended up reading her journal with his aunty Dusti in his mother’s room. Then around five in the morning Ralph came in the bedroom to get clothes for work (On Sunday the day after he killed her???) Anyway Dusti had laid the opened journal on the floor by the bed when she went to sleep. Upon waking she found it was gone. Ralph says when he came home from work the girls and my grandsons had filled Dusti’s car with most of Klysta’s belongings and he didn’t know she had a journal. . Actually they took a couple of her dresses her favorite pair of shoes and a box of pictures that was it. Hold on have to get more tissues and ice.
On Monday, the Coroner did the autopsy, not much blood in her seemed her esophagus was busted open and blood drained into bowels been going on for a while he said, no head injuries i.e. concussion or split she did have tumor in stomach no ovaries or womb, her liver was beginning to harden from the drinking he listed all her bruises and said one lung had a little congestion and she had a green foam with blood in her mouth. Wouldn’t know more till toxicology came in, days later it arrived via email, his phone and fed ex …he wanted to get it to me right away as I was calling him and the investigator nearly every day. He had ruled until the report that it was an indeterminate death and that he could not say more until the report. It stated no alcohol in her system, a bit of cannabis, and ten thousand /milligrams of pure morphine, sixty milligrams I am told is the greatest given to people dying and in pain from cancer, that time of death was at 7:15 am Saturday the 19th of February. ONE DAY, one day before she would have been out of there, why did I not go with instincnt and go get her.
So she had told the truth when I asked her Wednesday if she had been drinking she said no she had quit again, been off booze for nearly two weeks. She was already packed just needed to throw shampoo etc. in bag, catch train Sunday morn she was excited and ready to come home for her momma time. She did that quite often through the year, every year, especially if the weather prevented them from coming for the holidays.
My grandfather and my dad always told me to keep my friends close and my enemies closer so I did with Ralph for six months. What was strange was after she died he texted me every day, I love you mom, love you mom and dad, I would text back how are you doing son etc. Got to where I talked to his sister on Facebook and phone calls a bit as they were planning the memorial service down there where all the friends were we the family would go there. I have to admit they did a nice job but everyone was really there to party. Ralph I would ask, can I please get some of Klysta’s things I had given her mothers ring and a heirloom wedding ring, she collected light houses and angels she had my mother’s Bible, I only wanted what I thought we as family should have for mementos not that she had much of value in a monetary way. I just wanted something of my daughters besides a few ashes, and the bill for her cremation. He said he didn’t know if he could ever let any of it go, he made a big deal of telling me he put her ashes (prior to service) in his truck next to him every day. She is always with me mom, she was my life” and he would cry.
On her 42nd birthday it was 6 months and one day from her passing. I made reservations at a B&B asking my baby sis to go with me, Ralph had said we could get some of her things and I wanted to put flowers and candles on the water in honor of her birthday and remembrance of the day. Ralph wouldn’t walk down to the pier with us he wouldn’t meet us at the house, he had his son and daughter in law there to meet us. They or Ralph had prepared a small box of things which consisted of Demetrius’s cap and gown and a few papers nothing for his brother Michael. I did take the washstand with bowl and pitcher I had given her years before it had at some time been broken and chipped but sat proudly in her living room. . Her grandmothers Bible went to my sister and after we met with Ralph he gave me the rings I had requested. We were there 3- 4 days not once did Ralph come to their house or offer to meet tere we had to go wherever he was. When I asked the day we went to their house if I could go in the bedroom, my daughters wallet and a picture was on her bed side table there was nothing else there, after being told by Ralph yea all her things are still here can’t let them go. NOTHING was there! We looked and looked. I knew, had always known, he did it he took her life because of his immature jealousy but I couldn’t trip him in any way. My girls knew and they believed that I was on his side so I couldn’t even talk to them about it. My sister and I both walked away from that weekend without a shadow of doubt, doubt of what had happened and his guilt. Ralph text me a week or so later because I had ask his son how it felt to live with a murderer right on face book. Not nice but so what I am her mother, I am old, grieving and want the truth!! Ralph after months of silence text me said mom I love you, that was the last time I heard from him! I only want to hear from him one more time when he admits he killed her and why. After that let me kill him please or is he even worth it, the pond bottom feeding scum sucker!
You need to know that I burned up the phone line with the one homicide detective who said to me each time I talked to him “someday someone will let something slip then we will get him” yea right this in a town where everyone grew up together, went to school together. I asked what happened to the sheets on the bed I found out he never even went to the house… I asked about the night she was at the bar he didn’t check that either, he informed me Ralph had passed two lie detectors, well guess what he was never even brought in for questioning! His sister claimed she had seen a tall skinny dark-haired man pull up and go in their house on Friday for about fifteen minutes but she couldn’t remember the car or any other detail. There was once a huge drop-off almost a cliff behind the mobile home and Klysta always rode Ralph about filling it in as he had a bob~ cat to do the job, within days after she passed he filled it in bet where all of her things are buried along with the sheets, her journal etc? Did I mention Gwen’s husband Richard at that time was fighting kidney and bladder cancer do you know Gwen was administering morphine shots to him for his pain? The chicken soup Ralph fed Klysta on Friday was given to her other dog on Sunday morning and she became ill, not enough to kill her but she was very ill, it wasn’t too long after that Ralph called Michael and told him he had put all of their dogs down, including Michaels dog.
I tried to have an ad placed in the local paper The Leader asking for any information about her death and offered a small reward they wouldn’t even print it. I am consoled by the boys telling me their momma was reading her Bible every day before her passing. I do know from many notes, calls, cards that she brought so many people to Christ, saved many a marriage with her belief and great love of Christ, she called me once just to thank me for teaching her and taking her to church so that she knew the Lord and what he could do with her life, she never understood though how He could heal her of many things but not alcoholism.
I know this is a garbled mess and full of typos etc. I can’t see thru the tears and shaking, very few people know all these details and now that I have written them out I am going to copy this just as it is and blog it. It’s time, I can feel it I know wanting something of my daughters from her home is silly and it won’t bring her back I also know that Ralph Chapman killed my daughter and he will face judgment day with that on his conscience and soul. I would just like to see justification here or even better have him tell me why he killed her, was he that jealous of her time with her family? Did he know somehow that this was it she wasn’t going back? I believe that is what it was, I believe he knew that and he wasn’t going to let her go and he didn’t…not to her family anyway. Thanks for listening/reading God forgive me I hate that man with a passion!
Posted on March 24, 2012
Collapsing at the door of the building and being placed in a wheel chair to just fall into a million pieces of glass inside at the sight of you lying there under the velvet coverlet, pale where you were not bruised. Brushing your hair from your face as I did when you needed soothing as a newborn, caressing your ear as if that would bring a smile to your black and blue waxen face. Holding you and them telling me ‘no ‘there was no way in hell they were going to stop me. You my first born I held you as you took your first look at the world and by God I was going to hold you one more time in death. My daughter my beautiful daughter the pain 13 months passed is no less now than then.
I promised I would make him pay and so far criminally it hasn’t been done and may never be, but I will keep your memory and name alive by posting it every day so that thousands will see it. This promise I made then and I carry out every day.
Klysta LaNell Breshears
August 20, 1969 ~ February 19, 2011
Our beloved Daughter, Mother , Sister,
Auntie, Cousin, Ministering Angel to the lost
You are forever loved and missed..
AS I PROMISED…KEEPING HER STORY AND NAME OUT THERE.
Once again, I feel the emptiness, cry tears, and wonder will this feeling ever leave me?
I hug the ones I love a little tighter, a little longer fighting back the tears, trying to appear “normal” “strong” “coping well”
Inside my gut wrenches, my lungs struggle for air, my body responds with intense pain with no way to sanely release the grief I bear.
If I let it all out it would be an earth shattering scream, never ending, until I coughed and blood would appear from the rawness of my throat.
There is forever an emptiness within, life is not like it once was and never ever will it be so again.
There will always be the sound of your laughter in my heart, the feel of your arms about my neck,
the whisper of your voice “Momma I love you”
Time heals all wounds it is said, NO, NO, it does not. Sometimes things are normal but not often, holidays, the angelversary, your birthdays, family dinners then BAM life smacks me in the face again, your gone
and your not coming back.
You completed our family and now grieving the loss of you has taken your place, our hearts are broken and we cry tears for we have lost an integral part of ourselves.
I, I miss you my beautiful daughter and my public persona must be picked up and I must move on putting on my mask the one that says “I am okay, my life is good” all the while grief lingers reminding me my life will never be okay again, never be good again.
45 years ago tomorrow I gave birth to a 6 pound 4 ounce 21 and a half inches long baby girl. God loaned her to me for 41 years then called her back home. The depth of joy felt at her birth has turned to the depths of sorrow and grief for a life taken to early by anothers hand. Happy Birthday to my beautiful daughter. Klysta LaNell Breshears Aug. 29, 1969~ Feb. 19, 2011.
My beautiful daughter, so blessed with the birth of you…
Such perfect features with coal-black fuzz on your head
I was enraptured, the wonderment of you.
You looked up at me as if you knew,
I would love and protect you till the end of my life.
I watched you through the years,
as you blossomed and grew
Into a beautiful strong young woman, yet I knew
Someday you would leave me as children tend to do,
I just never knew you would leave me in this way
I never thought without you would there be a day
You would no longer walk earth with me in any way
After forty-one years, my greatest fear came true
Never imagined the pain in this life without you.
I miss you my beautiful daughter