It’s been 1493 days since your execution.
It’s been a lifetime, a helltime, a darktime.
It’s been a split second, a nightmare, a flash of black.
It’s been a time of shadows and shit.
It’s been a God seeking time.
The more I cried out to Him, the more quiet the world became.
Where are You? Why have You forsaken me?
My heart hurt like a closed fist. My liver bled out. My lungs wept. Even the blood that flowed thru my veins ached.
His silence was like another death, another murder, another insidious betrayal.
Where the hell are You?
Mom and I ironed eight salmon colored shirts for the pallbearers. I looked at her and said, “Mom, I wish, I wish we were ironing these for a wedding, a shower, a celebration. Not for Kay’s funeral.”
I read a poem by e e cummings at your service, but I don’t recall any of it through the fog, the fucking fog.
I remember nothing. I remember everything.
I remember half my toenails were painted red when I got the call.
I remember falling to my knees because I stopped walking, breathing.
I thought about ways to commit suicide.
How simple it would be to rear off into the other lane of traffic. How easy it would be to sit in the Kia while the fumes rolled up my nostrils.
Death appears painless compared to life.
Somebody asked, “Do you want to serve cake or cookies, sandwiches or a buffet?”
“I don’t give a shit.” I said. “My sister is dead.”
I have so much to tell you. So many secrets to share.
For example, after Mike killed you, I drank a bottle of wine every single day for 6 months.
“Is it 5:00 yet,” I’d ask. “Isn’t it time for a glass of wine?”
It helped for a while, but the sting continually found it’s way back like a sad, lost puppy.
In the end, I had to embrace the little bastard.
It was the only way I could move forward without you. It was the only way to live, to survive, to be a wife, mother, daughter, human being.
It’s been 4 years, one month, and one day since your execution.
I shall always count the days, always miss you, always–always–always.
Listen, I want to tell you this, Kay, because it’s important that you know I’m okay.
I’ve started to observe light bleeding thru the darkness.
I’ve started to feel the heat of the sun upon my face like warm, soothing fingers.
I hear God. He talks to me through poetry, words, writing, & beautiful women.
I’ve come to realize that the miracle you prayed for came True.
You are Free. Liberated. Powerful.
You rise up from the grave
every. single. day.
And this, my sweet, causes me to rise up, too.
—-Darling, Reader, tell me about a time that you have RISEN up…in spite of yourself.
GET HELP if you are being abused in ANY way….HERE TODAY: http://www.thehotline.org
Keep Holding On: Kay’s Last Video– http://myinnerchick.com/2013/11/01/keep-holding-on-footage-of-kays-last-days/