~The only thing we never get enough of is love; and the only thing we never give enough of is love.—Henry Miller
—After Kay’s murder, my friend, Jane, asked, “Kim, when did it all begin? I said, “At the very beginning.”
The following journal entries of my sister, Kay, reveals the premature signs of domestic abuse. Although they may appear minimal and insignificant at first, these acts of disrespect, unkindness, & disregard are vividly captured within these pages.
As I read Kay’s words, what stands out the most is her desperation to be loved, respected, acknowledged, and valued by her life-partner.
A picnic in the woods. Breaking bread. Drinking wine. Giving love. Receiving love.
So simple. So practical.
…Yet it never happened.
“To rise, first you must burn.” ― Hiba Fatima Ahmad
–Dear, Mike Peterson,
When you were alive, I never quite knew the day of your birthday. Kay typically informed me of the date, “Oh, did you know it’s Mike’s birthday today? I’m having cake and ice-cream later on; you’re all invited.”
“You don’t know JACK POOP about me, do you?”
Mr. L. looks at me dumbfounded. He’s had this identical look on his face numerous times in our marriage. That look of D U H.