–Here is one of the worst things about having someone you
love die: It happens again every single morning.—Anna Quindlen
It’s been 1159 days since your murder.
It’s been a micro second.
It’s been a lifetime. It’s been a
Loneliness. Dark breezes blowing
thru open windows. Unsharpened claws.
I remember what I was wearing when I got the call.
Ripped black shorts.
An Old Navy tank top. Half of my toenails
were polished powder blue.
I was listening to Pillars of the Earth on my headset.
I couldn’t walk or drive, so Andrew drove me to your house.
Mustard yellow tape.
Rows of cars like a procession. Police
sprinting. Strangers staring.
I laid on your newly mown lawn staring at a dull sun, a
hollow sky. I couldn’t get back up. I couldn’t breathe.
I remember everything.
I remember nothing.
I know what a zombie feels like. I know what it feels like to be dead.
The hospital was colorless, sterile, blurred,
There were fake smiles, plastic words. I couldn’t hear anything except my own
The smell of cheap coffee, cigarettes, night breath, rubbing
I gazed at your still beautiful face waiting for you to wake
Wake up…Wake up…Wake the fuck up.
But you didn’t.
I walked in circles uttering……’help help help please please
I wanted—I needed…
Wine. Vodka. Pills. Poetry.
Sunshine. Yesterday. God. You.
Something to numb the pain, the inexplicable, unexplainable
pain of your absence.
Nothing erased the pain.
You had clumped mascara on your lashes, crimson lipstick
smeared on your lips. You had a pink
rubber band holding your hair in a pony tail.
You were wearing your “mom” necklace Aaron bought for Mother’s Day.
But you were already slipping away, the heat already leaving
your body…your soul rising up like angel wings.
I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you
I can’t go on. I
can’t live. I can’t die.
Why can’t I die? I asked
myself that question for two years.
I don’t know what time we left the hospital, but all of a sudden I was sitting on my own
couch, a new reality.
And I don’t know how I arrived here today, but I must be
alive because I hear my heart pounding outside my chest.
It’s been 1159 since he murdered you, but he’s been
murdering you for years, hasn’t he?
I screamed and prayed from a bottomless core inside, a
hidden core inside with roots and blood and organs and pulses and guts and memories— which
nobody knows about until the unimaginable happens to them.
A core that reveals who you truly are, who the universe
is, and mostly,
Who God is.
Who He says He is.
This explains why I’m still breathing—Why sunlight still
melts on my skin—Why moonlight still burns though darkness—Why the world still
–My soul-mate, best friend, & sister, Kay, was murdered on May 26, 2010 by her soon to be ex-husband. This doesn’t need to happen to you. Please please please read the safety plan below. —
—-An important note I didn’t know: When a woman decides to leave her abuser,
stalker, whatever you want to call him, it’s
the most DANGEROUS time for her. I didn’t know that. Kay didn’t know that. Did you?
Here Is A Safety Plan For You_