few people can grasp what that feel like...heck, just talking about it makes people fighting mad...but i did love him...i remember the day i met him...i remember almost every time of ever having encountered him...i remember wanting him to be the first guy i ever kissed, or dated, or even had sex with...he was none of those things...but i remember wanting him to be...and even through the years i would wonder what he was up to...wonder if he had ever had a crush on me...and wonder why there was this gulf that kept us from being able to fall in love and grow old together...and now in light of how things turned out...with most people thinking he was a monster...does it make me one too because i loved him? i know that it doesn't...but it all still just hurts...in 2000...this friend...this guy that i thought i had been sweet on since junior high almost killed my son...my son was only 7 months old
can you imagine what that felt like?...it wasn't like we had a fight...or one of us cheated on the other...instead i take my son to the hospital for what i think is pneumonia...and less that a week later this guy...that i loved...is arrested for being the one to have crushed my son's skull...that isn't something anyone could ever get past...
and with everything that followed then i have to just instantly stop loving him...i mean he reached monster status...and we just don't love monsters do we? how could i ever admit that i loved this guy?
it was all just a bit much to process...my son almost died...for pity's sake he was an infant...extracting my emotions from having ever loved this guy was a nightmare...
my son is now 11...he is partially blind, walks with a limp, has seizures, is developmentally delayed/mildly retarded, and has autism...i have a daily reminder...a beautiful, disabled...reminder...that i once loved a person most people want dead...its such an odd, odd position to have ever been in.
Let me know how you are doing.
The single greatest influence in her life was the remarkable time spent with her paternal grandmother; it was under this influence that she thrived. Her grandmother introduced her to not only fine Literature, but also the Arts and the Opera. And it was beloved grandmother who told her that if she wanted to be a great writer she must first learn to be an avid reader.
Early adult life would be peppered with indecision, failings, and the haunting of things not learned in childhood. But as is the case with most sincere artist, out of the angst of life came a great capacity for creativity.
Shelby considers her writing a gift...a joy, a tremendous responsibility, and something that helps to define her life.
She lives in very picturesque Central Oregon with her two children.