Some Peace, Followed by Pain

Sometimes I feel like I’m doing so good. I’m going forward. Slowly. I miss her. I ache for her. But I go forward. Then something happens and it all crashes down. Boom shattered. You felt confident? How’s this extra hard kick to knock you back down?

I didn’t want to be here for the month anniversary of her death. I needed to run. I needed peace. I needed a break. My asshole husbands family was camping on the Big Horn in Fort Smith. I booked a cabin. To be gone. To just breathe away from it all. To do my own thing while he did whatever. Ironically my other friend said – Do you remember Kira worked there? (After I booked, after I felt I just had to be there.) That was years ago. I’d forgotten. I knew she worked at Fort Something but hadn’t realized it was this one.

It was perfect. So perfect. I spent the week feeling so close to her. Breathing her in. Soaking it up. Feeling her. This place screamed Kira. The moment my eyes hit the water I understood why she chose this remote, cell phone service free place. It was her. Nature. Freedom. Beauty. Adventure. Tourists. Fishing. It was what fed Kira’s wandering soul. My sweet, amazing friend. It was the most at peace I’d felt in a month. It was where I needed to be. Thursday they commented on the butterflies. Why so many on the boat always. Oh Kira – I love you – I needed this. To know you’re there. To know your soul is free. Yet, so selfishly I want you with me.

I was so sad to leave. Ugh. Misery. Didn’t help my husbands an asshole. But what an amazing trip. The people I was with were great. The atmosphere was great. Kira’s presence was much more than great. It was needed.

Came back on the 3rd and the fireworks are blaring. Just making me angry. I hated them. Every single. The husband asks when I became so anti fireworks. I use to love them but I HATED THEM. I looked at a few but they just made me mad. Repeat on the 4th. Why. Why am I such an asshole? Gah, I’m turning into an asshole. I seriously hated every second of the ones near me.

Today I look at Facebook – I see THE post. The post that leaves me crying so hard I’m hyperventilating. The post that leaves me wishing Andrew wasn’t dead so I could kill him myself. “What a great weekend celebrating Andrew. We put on a firework display we hope he’s proud of. He was more badass than I’ll ever be. Blah blah blah”. Those fireworks. Those noises. Those lights in the sky. The thousands spent on fireworks (for real) – Were to celebrate the awful person who murdered my amazing friend. How? Why? He wasn’t badass. He was awful. He was a coward. He died a murderer. A cold blooded murderer who shot my gorgeous friend in the back of the head while she simply sat in the couch because he knew she was too good for him and he knew she was going to leave for good. He was a fucking coward who then shot himself because he couldn’t face the repercussions of his actions. Yeah. Let’s celebrate that.

I believe in feeling things. Knowing things. Supernatural. Did my brain somehow, someway know those were for him? Is that why I suddenly hated them so much yesterday? It was a very odd reaction for me. But now. Now it makes sense.

Now that I’m done crying. Kind of. I try to rationalize with myself. I try to understand that he was someone’s son, brother, dad, uncle. That they have happy memories. That I should feel sorrow for them. That they have the right to celebrate the good parts of him. The parts they loved. They have that right.

Buttttt I’m too fucking angry most of the time that I can’t allow their happy celebrations quite. Maybe someday. But not today. Today it hurts that they are celebrating that murdering asshole.

In the end – I love you Kira. So much. I wish this was different.