Two Months Without You

My amazing friend – We are nearing 2 months. 2 full months without your glowing personality. All because evil won and took you away. Gosh, it’s been a long two months. Yet in the same breath I feel like it was just yesterday. Have I told you lately that I love you? That my heart aches.  I miss you K. I do.

Month 1 was rough. Fuck Month 1. I hate that month. The lake helped. Breathing in the air you loved. Feeling your spirit. Knowing you were with me. That helped. I felt connected with you. That was probably the first moments of peace I’d had in those awful first weeks.

Month 2 – I haven’t decided yet. This was the roller coaster month. Bone crushing sobs. Followed by reluctant acceptance. Followed by anger. Numbness. Just wanting to sleep. Repeat. Each day brings something new. Will I get out of bed happy and have energy? Or will I lock my office door and pray for it to be time to leave? Or maybe I’ll stay in bed until 4 pm on Saturday & Sunday waking just enough time wash my face and go drink my beer during the 4-8 open hours. It’s a gamble. What will it be. I almost liked the bone crushing 24/7 sadness and anger. It was easier to predict.

I believe in signs tho. Completely. Utterly. Signs are real. Signs remind me you are there. Signs drag me out of my misery and push me ahead. Yeah, I know K. You would say – Why the F are you still sad. Get up. I know this awesome place to eat. Let’s go. Want a beer?

Sundays are my worst days. That’s because  beautiful K was murdered at about 7:40 p.m. on a Sunday. Sundays are pretty much a shit show in my life. Jamie died on a Sunday too. So I’ve hated Sundays for like 15 years. (If you’ve made it this far April 2005 chronicles that awful day. I hate when people reference a time and I want more.) Jamie was the most perfect baby boy. I love him as much 15 years later as I did on that day. Maybe that’s why this sucks So flipping badly. I know it won’t get easier. I know I’ll just get used to it and it’ll always f’ing hurt.

So, a few Sundays ago I get a text from a guy I volunteer with sometimes – How many beds do you have?  It’s 10 pm. I normally don’t reply that late. But I’m awake staring at the wall. Why? He wants to know if I’ll host a couple girls for Miss Montana. Sure. Why not. My second spare room is nowhere near ready. I need to buy a bed. Throw away stuff. Clean. But hey. It’ll keep me busy. And boy it did.

Finished the room with minutes to spare. And was given two beautiful girls – On a Sunday. As they were rehearsing for the Pageant all week I didn’t get to see them much but I fully enjoyed what I got. I loved simply being their for their. Talking. Feeding them. It kept me focused on something other than my own grief and they were truly amazing young ladies.

Then one day it clicked. Maybe Kira sent them? Did you K? How could you not? Did you give me TWO perfect ones so I couldn’t ignore the signs….

The beautiful girl downstairs – Her name was Kristy. Just like Kira’s middle name. She loved the outdoors which was her platform – getting outside for even 15 minutes a day could improve mental health. So Kira. So so so Kira.

The second beautiful girl upstairs. Her platform was “Good Grief!” – which revolves around ending the stigma around grief, using/learning healthy coping skills to grieve, etc. Seriously. Did I not need that more than now?! We talked briefly and I was very impressed with her.

Maybe I’m losing it, but I feel like they were both personally hand delivered to me. Sadly I also had to give them back on Sunday. Which meant I went back to bed and slept until 4. We will spend Month 3 learning healthy coping skills. Not quite there yet.

I’m still angry. So angry. She didn’t have to die. He could have died alone. Sometimes I ask myself hard questions tho. Would that have killed her soul too much? Would Andrew’s suicide have just been too much for her? Maybe. Possibly. Is it selfish of me to want her here? No. Not really. She should have been given that chance. Give the time to heal. Recover from him. Given the choice. He gave her no choice. None. At all. Ending her life wasn’t his choice to make. She deserved to choose life and he stole that.

So, for today – I’m still mad at him. I’m mad at every time he fell through the cracks in his life. I’m mad at the help he needed and didn’t get. I’m mad for the trauma he experienced as a child. I’m mad he had a shitty dad. I’m mad that more wasn’t done to prevent this situation. Hell, I’m mad at myself for not advocating more for her to leave him – although I know it wouldn’t have mattered. Something should have prevented this and nothing did.

I love you Kira K. Off I go to live month 3 without you. I know you aren’t here. Physically. But you’re watching. You have to be. These coincidences keep being too big to not be real.