In Memory of Kay

Ten Times Undone

My life hangs upon me, and becomes a burden; I am ten times undone, while hope, fear, and grief and rage, and love rise up at once, and with variety of pain, distract me—~Joseph Addison

~~If I am boring or upsetting you with my sadness, agony, and unfathomable mourning; If you believe I should STOP ranting and lamenting about my murdered sister because it is making you uncomfortable, uneasy, uninterested; If you think I should go back to the way things were, the way things were before Kay, before this shadow fell upon us, before- when life was familiar and almost fabulous.

I would tell you clearly, and loudly, and with a very controlled tone of voice… “I Don’t Give A Shit What You Think.”

I don’t remember much about the first two months after Kay’s murder, except I became a bit Plath-ish, fanatical, inconsolable. I became a wine drinker, a prayer screamer, a pessimistic thinker, and a person with a darker perspective…

I became ten times undone.

I was quite suddenly, in a solitary second, removed from my body staring down at all of the unrecognizable people who were crying, hugging, whispering, “I understand. Can I get you some coffee, a sandwich, a tissue; Perhaps an oven to slide your head into? ”

Who were these people, anyway? And why were they offering me a tissue? Were they trying to say that snot running down your face was not okay, was unladylike, was abnormal?

I sprawled out on the emergency floor with my girlfriend, Tia. The nurses were forced to walk over us, around us, through us. Two guards sat in the muted space like frozen, stiff sentinels. What the hell were they guarding? The bastard already killed her, already blasted three bullets into the back of her head, already removed the smile from her pretty pink lips.

What else could that monster possibly do?

Except DIE.

He had it all planned out: The gun. The insurance policies. The manipulation. The lying. The begging; the perpetual, inexorable begging. He’d change. He’d be a better man. He couldn’t live without her.

He was nothing. She was EVERYTHING.

So—now you tell me I may be going mad; that I need to take a shower, shave under my arms, comb my hair, apply some lipstick. You tell me I need some sort of pill that dulls, dulls, dulls the sting of hell. You say I should volunteer at the domestic abuse shelter, go to church, forgive, be thankful for what is left, reduce the merlot to one glass, bake a cake.

You just keep talking, talking, talking.

Your words pour out like unconnected syllables, tumbling and crashing to the floor. Why do you feel obligated to speak, to give advice, to offer your judgment to a person whose heart is cracked wide open and bleeding? Still. Still.

Maybe tomorrow will expose slivers of light, warmth to grasp onto, God’s voice…

But not today.

Today, I am ten times undone.Aaron, Kay, Jordan, Micheal

A Note for my Darling, Tia~~  

Thank you for accepting me even when I’m out of control, even when I’m stinky, even when I bellow, and even when I’m silent.

I love you exceedingly & exceptionally. Always. Always.

{Our Song: Kay, Kim & Tia}: Blast it.  Crank it.  And cry, cry, cry.

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1 Comment

  • Reply
    April 3, 2011 at 11:55 pm

    I have just been reading and crying, crying, crying. My little sister is my baby, my soul mate, my favorite person; I imagine I would go absolutely insane if I had to go through what you are. I don’t even know what to say. I want pray for your peace, healing, and relief, but I’m sure that at the same time you don’t want to let go. She looks like an angel. xoxoxo

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