Kobi
Something I've never told you is that when you would cry on the phone, I would hold it together for you and help you through, but when we would hang up, I would sob. I would cry because you were hurting and when you hurt, I hurt. Seeing you having a hard time always broke my heart. You always deserved better than this life gave you.
I would tell you that I hated to see you sad. But I truly don't think you understood the magnitude of it. Or maybe you did. Maybe you never told me that when I would cry on the phone, you cried too. Maybe we really did feel the same. Because your pain always caused me to feel nauseous, and pained. I would always do anything I could to cheer you up.
I've heard some of your friends call some of the unfortunate circumstances in your life, "Kobi luck." I thought about that for a while and I couldn't agree more. It did seem that things often went awry for you, although lately, I'm feeling that we both have that luck, or lack there of. I also have heard many say that you were the happiest person they ever met. How awesome is it that your friends knew you had a tough time with things, but they saw you persevere right through it. They saw you extending your hand to others and you sharing your smile and your laugh even though things were often not going well for you. I think it speaks volumes about your character. It says so much about the amazing, loving person that you were, Kob.
I saw more than your goofy smile though. You and I could tell by how the other said "Hey" on the phone, if we were okay or not. We knew by a Facebook post, or a song we shared, or the tone in our voices. We knew each other better than we knew ourselves. My point is, I'm hurting Kobi. Many people can't tell I'm hurting by the tone of my voice or the look in my eyes. No one is you. We always took care of each other. And someone hurt you. Someone hurt you in the worst way, and most devastating way possible. So now I'm hurting in the worst way possible. Because when you hurt, Bub, I hurt.
Take care of me please. I need you.
Sis
Tuesday, July 25, 2017
Sunday, July 23, 2017
Bring You Home
Kobi,
I've been to Indianapolis a lot. Mostly to see you. I've driven those roads with hope, excitement and joy. I've also driven on those roads at 80+ miles per hour because you called me and you told me your heart was broken. You were broken. I told Casey I had to go and I left. I drove as fast as I could to get to you. Tears were streaming down my face as I heard the shaking and the sorrow in your voice. I knew I had to be with you. I had to get you and bring you home. And I did.
I've driven there excited as ever to take our girls to the zoo. I say our girls, because they were yours too. They will always be yours too. We would spend the weekend taking them to the zoo and having fun as a family. It was always filled with fun, laughter and so many smiles.
I've also driven there, correction, rode there, to see you in a different state. To see your body. To get your clothes. To empty out the place you slept. I say slept, because you knew when it came down to it, we were your home. Your home was with our girls and with Casey and I. It always will be. I rode there with no hope, no happiness, no faith that everything would be okay. I rode there several times during the worst week of my life, knowing that you were gone, and my world would never be the same again. I came home, without you. Every time. I just wanted to bring you home.
So you can imagine, that driving on those same roads, to see the people you loved so much skate, was incredibly hard. Walking in there wearing a shirt that screams that you were murdered, with a weight in my stomach. Oh I imagined you rounding the track during warm up and waving at your girls with excitement and pride. I saw you hugging them at the end and showing them off to everyone. That's who you were. You were a proud uncle on skates. Last night however, I was a proud sister. I am proud of your team. I am proud of the friends and the company you kept. I am proud of the life you lived. I am proud of who you were. I've always been proud of you. I will always be infinitely proud of you.
Last night I wanted to leave Indianapolis and bring you home. I just want to bring you home.
I miss you and I love you even more.
Sis
I've been to Indianapolis a lot. Mostly to see you. I've driven those roads with hope, excitement and joy. I've also driven on those roads at 80+ miles per hour because you called me and you told me your heart was broken. You were broken. I told Casey I had to go and I left. I drove as fast as I could to get to you. Tears were streaming down my face as I heard the shaking and the sorrow in your voice. I knew I had to be with you. I had to get you and bring you home. And I did.
I've driven there excited as ever to take our girls to the zoo. I say our girls, because they were yours too. They will always be yours too. We would spend the weekend taking them to the zoo and having fun as a family. It was always filled with fun, laughter and so many smiles.
I've also driven there, correction, rode there, to see you in a different state. To see your body. To get your clothes. To empty out the place you slept. I say slept, because you knew when it came down to it, we were your home. Your home was with our girls and with Casey and I. It always will be. I rode there with no hope, no happiness, no faith that everything would be okay. I rode there several times during the worst week of my life, knowing that you were gone, and my world would never be the same again. I came home, without you. Every time. I just wanted to bring you home.
So you can imagine, that driving on those same roads, to see the people you loved so much skate, was incredibly hard. Walking in there wearing a shirt that screams that you were murdered, with a weight in my stomach. Oh I imagined you rounding the track during warm up and waving at your girls with excitement and pride. I saw you hugging them at the end and showing them off to everyone. That's who you were. You were a proud uncle on skates. Last night however, I was a proud sister. I am proud of your team. I am proud of the friends and the company you kept. I am proud of the life you lived. I am proud of who you were. I've always been proud of you. I will always be infinitely proud of you.
Last night I wanted to leave Indianapolis and bring you home. I just want to bring you home.
I miss you and I love you even more.
Sis
Saturday, July 15, 2017
Movement
Bobo,
Having my life go on without you is painful. It's the worst kind of pain. Watching the girls have new experiences or say cute things and not being able to call you and tell you all about it, it's the absolute worst pain I've ever felt in my life. It's like breathing underwater. I can't stop it, and I know if I continue living my life underwater, eventually it will kill me too. Eventually my lungs will fill with water and I will drown.
However, my life going on without you is something I could make excuses for. Because there were a few, very few times in our lives, where I was so incredibly busy raising these girls and going to school that I would only get to call you for a few brief moments before I had to get back to doing the things that were required of me. I have been able to get by some days since your passing by pretending that I would just call you when the crazy calmed down. Some days, it's the only way I breathe. But the other day, I saw your life going on without you. The Rebels are going to the playoffs!
You would be so proud, so excited, so incredibly happy. I could hear your squeal when you called to tell me the news, I could hear you rambling on and on about how hard you were going to practice and how great you were going to be, and I would have believed every second of it. I would have squealed too. I would have been proud too. I am still proud of your team, and do not let me sound like I am not, because I am over the moon for them. I squealed and was excited and then I noticed the tears running down my face...at first a few, and then I was sobbing. Your life was moving on without you too. That is a different kind of pain. That is a different kind of hell. You should be here. You should be here to tell me about your day, about your life, what has you crying, what has you laughing and everything in between. You deserve to be here. Which is more than I can say about the scum who took you from me. I know your team will carry you with them to play offs. I know they miss you and love you too. But you should be here to skate with them, you should be here to celebrate with them.
Life without you is just so odd, and quiet. The other day Sprint called to tell me that they were successful in shutting off your phone. I had left a final voicemail a few days before when I requested the shut off. I called your phone that last time, and then I called it after I got off the phone with them, I had to hear that it was disconnected, I had to hear that you still weren't going to pick it up. I love you, more than you could ever know....
Sissy
Having my life go on without you is painful. It's the worst kind of pain. Watching the girls have new experiences or say cute things and not being able to call you and tell you all about it, it's the absolute worst pain I've ever felt in my life. It's like breathing underwater. I can't stop it, and I know if I continue living my life underwater, eventually it will kill me too. Eventually my lungs will fill with water and I will drown.
However, my life going on without you is something I could make excuses for. Because there were a few, very few times in our lives, where I was so incredibly busy raising these girls and going to school that I would only get to call you for a few brief moments before I had to get back to doing the things that were required of me. I have been able to get by some days since your passing by pretending that I would just call you when the crazy calmed down. Some days, it's the only way I breathe. But the other day, I saw your life going on without you. The Rebels are going to the playoffs!
You would be so proud, so excited, so incredibly happy. I could hear your squeal when you called to tell me the news, I could hear you rambling on and on about how hard you were going to practice and how great you were going to be, and I would have believed every second of it. I would have squealed too. I would have been proud too. I am still proud of your team, and do not let me sound like I am not, because I am over the moon for them. I squealed and was excited and then I noticed the tears running down my face...at first a few, and then I was sobbing. Your life was moving on without you too. That is a different kind of pain. That is a different kind of hell. You should be here. You should be here to tell me about your day, about your life, what has you crying, what has you laughing and everything in between. You deserve to be here. Which is more than I can say about the scum who took you from me. I know your team will carry you with them to play offs. I know they miss you and love you too. But you should be here to skate with them, you should be here to celebrate with them.
Life without you is just so odd, and quiet. The other day Sprint called to tell me that they were successful in shutting off your phone. I had left a final voicemail a few days before when I requested the shut off. I called your phone that last time, and then I called it after I got off the phone with them, I had to hear that it was disconnected, I had to hear that you still weren't going to pick it up. I love you, more than you could ever know....
Sissy
Sunday, July 9, 2017
I Know You
Kobi,
As I stood next to you, in your casket, I looked over at Mom and I said, "With Dad, I didn't know where we stood or get to be close with him the last few months of his life, but with Kobi, I know he loved me, I know that he knew I loved him, I know this because we talked about it. In fact, we talked about everything, I can have a conversation with him and say back to myself what he would say to me. I know him."
I know you. I go over a lot in my head, and I think about what you would say to me. Sometimes I panic and think I just need you here to talk me through this, and I do. More than you know, I do. But I already know what you would tell me to do. I know you'd want me to do whatever I have to, to get through this. You'd want me to do my absolute best to be the best mother and wife that I can be, but you'd want me to take care of me. You'd know how absolutely miserable I am feeling, you'd know because you'd feel this way too if this was reversed.
When I had panic attacks you'd tell me to breathe. "Take a breath, and take it one thing at a time." "You're going to be just fine, you've got this."
When I'm feeling like a bad Mother, " You are an amazing, Mom and you know it. They are going to be just fine because you won't let them be any other way." "You have good instincts and always make the best decisions for them."
You knew me better than anyone has ever known me. You could calm me down better than anyone. I may not have you here to tell me these things, but I know what you'd say. You've taught me everything I need to know. You've trained me well enough in you, and your opinions that I know what you would tell me. I know how you would react, and I know how you would want me to move forward. If anyone knows you best, it's me. I'm not being arrogant, it's just true. So I hope the steps I take in my life, are exactly how you would want me to proceed. Because everything I do from now on, I do with your words literally on my arm, your love in my heart, and your thoughts in my head. To the moon and back, and to the sun and back.
G'night Bub
As I stood next to you, in your casket, I looked over at Mom and I said, "With Dad, I didn't know where we stood or get to be close with him the last few months of his life, but with Kobi, I know he loved me, I know that he knew I loved him, I know this because we talked about it. In fact, we talked about everything, I can have a conversation with him and say back to myself what he would say to me. I know him."
I know you. I go over a lot in my head, and I think about what you would say to me. Sometimes I panic and think I just need you here to talk me through this, and I do. More than you know, I do. But I already know what you would tell me to do. I know you'd want me to do whatever I have to, to get through this. You'd want me to do my absolute best to be the best mother and wife that I can be, but you'd want me to take care of me. You'd know how absolutely miserable I am feeling, you'd know because you'd feel this way too if this was reversed.
When I had panic attacks you'd tell me to breathe. "Take a breath, and take it one thing at a time." "You're going to be just fine, you've got this."
When I'm feeling like a bad Mother, " You are an amazing, Mom and you know it. They are going to be just fine because you won't let them be any other way." "You have good instincts and always make the best decisions for them."
You knew me better than anyone has ever known me. You could calm me down better than anyone. I may not have you here to tell me these things, but I know what you'd say. You've taught me everything I need to know. You've trained me well enough in you, and your opinions that I know what you would tell me. I know how you would react, and I know how you would want me to move forward. If anyone knows you best, it's me. I'm not being arrogant, it's just true. So I hope the steps I take in my life, are exactly how you would want me to proceed. Because everything I do from now on, I do with your words literally on my arm, your love in my heart, and your thoughts in my head. To the moon and back, and to the sun and back.
G'night Bub
Thursday, July 6, 2017
Things
Kobi,
There are things that I know, that I wish I didn't know. There are images in my head of you and what happened, that I can't erase. There are words that have been said that I wish I had never heard. There are things that I know, that I can't un-know.
In finding out that you had died, there was a very blurry idea of how it happened. Media said it was in correlation to a shots fired report, the coroner's office wouldn't confirm this intially. I thought they absolutely had to be unrelated, or it was cross fire, right? As that image became clearer, so did all the supporting details. The blood splatter, the place you were found, the way you were positioned on the autopsy table, your bags sitting on the sidewalk, your empty apartment, and all the details given to me by the funeral home, the coroner and your detective. They all helped to paint these images of things that I know in my head.
Things I wish I didn't know.
Things I wish I could erase.
The things that haunt me every minute of every day. Things that keep me awake at night. Things that shake me to my very core.
I try to push these things out of my head with memories, with your laugh, smile and those big hugs. I try to power through to the other side of those haunting things to that time we took the big kids skating. It was practically empty and we had so much fun skating around with the girls. You fell on your butt and I made fun of you.
I power through to seeing "Through The Looking Glass," and we both got teary eyed when it was over because we were so proud of how it turned out.
I think of all the times you made me laugh so hard I cried, or I cried so hard I laughed.
Then I think of how devastated I am that you aren't here.
Then powering through turns into me being right back where I started. Thinking of all the things that paint the horrible image of how and why you aren't here anymore. Everyone says these images and thoughts will lessen over time. They will fade. They will get easier.
Maybe that's worse. Maybe the thought of me getting use to these thoughts or it being easier to handle terrifies me even more. I never want to get to a point where these images are easier to deal with. I want to stay here, right here. I don't want to move any further. I don't want to get further from the last time I spoke to you. I don't want to get closer to being at ease with these horrible things. These are things I will never be okay with. These are things that will always make me feel like puking. And you know what? That's exactly how it should be.
I'm going to keep trying to power through. Because I know the beautiful memories we have together, are more important to keep in my head, than the things I wish I could un-know, and the things that I wish I could undo.
Love you more than you know, and I miss you, every. single. second. of. every. single. day.
Sis
There are things that I know, that I wish I didn't know. There are images in my head of you and what happened, that I can't erase. There are words that have been said that I wish I had never heard. There are things that I know, that I can't un-know.
In finding out that you had died, there was a very blurry idea of how it happened. Media said it was in correlation to a shots fired report, the coroner's office wouldn't confirm this intially. I thought they absolutely had to be unrelated, or it was cross fire, right? As that image became clearer, so did all the supporting details. The blood splatter, the place you were found, the way you were positioned on the autopsy table, your bags sitting on the sidewalk, your empty apartment, and all the details given to me by the funeral home, the coroner and your detective. They all helped to paint these images of things that I know in my head.
Things I wish I didn't know.
Things I wish I could erase.
The things that haunt me every minute of every day. Things that keep me awake at night. Things that shake me to my very core.
I try to push these things out of my head with memories, with your laugh, smile and those big hugs. I try to power through to the other side of those haunting things to that time we took the big kids skating. It was practically empty and we had so much fun skating around with the girls. You fell on your butt and I made fun of you.
I power through to seeing "Through The Looking Glass," and we both got teary eyed when it was over because we were so proud of how it turned out.
I think of all the times you made me laugh so hard I cried, or I cried so hard I laughed.
Then I think of how devastated I am that you aren't here.
Then powering through turns into me being right back where I started. Thinking of all the things that paint the horrible image of how and why you aren't here anymore. Everyone says these images and thoughts will lessen over time. They will fade. They will get easier.
Maybe that's worse. Maybe the thought of me getting use to these thoughts or it being easier to handle terrifies me even more. I never want to get to a point where these images are easier to deal with. I want to stay here, right here. I don't want to move any further. I don't want to get further from the last time I spoke to you. I don't want to get closer to being at ease with these horrible things. These are things I will never be okay with. These are things that will always make me feel like puking. And you know what? That's exactly how it should be.
I'm going to keep trying to power through. Because I know the beautiful memories we have together, are more important to keep in my head, than the things I wish I could un-know, and the things that I wish I could undo.
Love you more than you know, and I miss you, every. single. second. of. every. single. day.
Sis
Sunday, July 2, 2017
2 months
Kobi,
It's been 2 months since we lost you, and 2 months now since we found out we lost you. I'm not the same person I was 2 months and 2 days ago. I will never be that person again. I had a really hard time understanding why Dad did what he did. It took me a very long time to come to terms with his death. One of the things that I thought was a positive from us losing him, was how much closer we became. That day our family was broken. We were no longer the Walden Family. We were the leftovers of what it use to be. You and I, however, became a force to be reckoned with. We became these two people that could get through anything, as long as we had each other. Now as I sit here, one half of those people, I'm struggling to get a grip on what my life has become.
I'm the woman who lost her Dad to suicide at 13, after he attempted once before, after we struggled to keep him alive and keep him sober. I'm the woman who suffered with PTSD, self harm, an eating disorder, anxiety and depression. I survived a sexual assault. I miscarried 2 children. I have buried most of the people I love. Been abandoned by most of the others. I have been to the depths of Hell and back. Here I am, on my knees again, because out of all of those things, losing you, is by far the hardest thing I have ever done. Yes, I'm being vulnerable, and I don't care anymore.
When I tell people I am lonely, they look at me funny. They think, "How in the world can she be lonely? She has a lot of friends, 4 children and a husband." If you understood the amount of time we spent with each other, either on the phone or in person, they would completely understand. Yes, I talk to my children all the time, but that's a different kind of talking. Casey's schedule means I don't always get to talk to him as often as I would like. You and I however, we spent countless hours on the phone. You were apart of our family. It was never just the 6 of us, you were always included in everything. You were a setting at our table, a stocking on our wall, our photographer at the kids birthday parties, and the emergency contact for our kids. In fact, you were who was suppose to get our children if something happened to us. There is a hole in our family. A member of our immediate family was taken. You are gone.
There's a lot of empty space in my life now. The conversations while I was driving, the summer plans we had, the evenings when I'm alone, those moments where I just have something I have to tell you, which is basically all the time and every moment the kids do something awesome, or awful and I want to hear you laugh at them. I'm more lonely than I've ever been in my entire life. Because even when I was lonely before, I always called you. I've always had you. You have been my safety net from all that is bad and consuming. You have been my drinking buddy when we lost someone else that we loved. My hand up when I'm the lowest I've ever been. My supporting base when I'm about to fall down. You have been everything to me for almost 26 years. I don't see how to survive this. I don't see how to get through it. I know I have to, but how do you do something you don't know how to do?
I'm going to keep throwing the pieces together until they fit. Until they hurt a little less. Until I feel more like living and less like being with you. Until I think I can survive with these cracks in my soul instead of letting the cracks break me completely. Until some way, some how, this life without you, is livable.
I think I truly always needed you, more than you needed me. Love you to the moon and back and the sun and back, I miss you even more.
Sis
It's been 2 months since we lost you, and 2 months now since we found out we lost you. I'm not the same person I was 2 months and 2 days ago. I will never be that person again. I had a really hard time understanding why Dad did what he did. It took me a very long time to come to terms with his death. One of the things that I thought was a positive from us losing him, was how much closer we became. That day our family was broken. We were no longer the Walden Family. We were the leftovers of what it use to be. You and I, however, became a force to be reckoned with. We became these two people that could get through anything, as long as we had each other. Now as I sit here, one half of those people, I'm struggling to get a grip on what my life has become.
I'm the woman who lost her Dad to suicide at 13, after he attempted once before, after we struggled to keep him alive and keep him sober. I'm the woman who suffered with PTSD, self harm, an eating disorder, anxiety and depression. I survived a sexual assault. I miscarried 2 children. I have buried most of the people I love. Been abandoned by most of the others. I have been to the depths of Hell and back. Here I am, on my knees again, because out of all of those things, losing you, is by far the hardest thing I have ever done. Yes, I'm being vulnerable, and I don't care anymore.
When I tell people I am lonely, they look at me funny. They think, "How in the world can she be lonely? She has a lot of friends, 4 children and a husband." If you understood the amount of time we spent with each other, either on the phone or in person, they would completely understand. Yes, I talk to my children all the time, but that's a different kind of talking. Casey's schedule means I don't always get to talk to him as often as I would like. You and I however, we spent countless hours on the phone. You were apart of our family. It was never just the 6 of us, you were always included in everything. You were a setting at our table, a stocking on our wall, our photographer at the kids birthday parties, and the emergency contact for our kids. In fact, you were who was suppose to get our children if something happened to us. There is a hole in our family. A member of our immediate family was taken. You are gone.
There's a lot of empty space in my life now. The conversations while I was driving, the summer plans we had, the evenings when I'm alone, those moments where I just have something I have to tell you, which is basically all the time and every moment the kids do something awesome, or awful and I want to hear you laugh at them. I'm more lonely than I've ever been in my entire life. Because even when I was lonely before, I always called you. I've always had you. You have been my safety net from all that is bad and consuming. You have been my drinking buddy when we lost someone else that we loved. My hand up when I'm the lowest I've ever been. My supporting base when I'm about to fall down. You have been everything to me for almost 26 years. I don't see how to survive this. I don't see how to get through it. I know I have to, but how do you do something you don't know how to do?
I'm going to keep throwing the pieces together until they fit. Until they hurt a little less. Until I feel more like living and less like being with you. Until I think I can survive with these cracks in my soul instead of letting the cracks break me completely. Until some way, some how, this life without you, is livable.
I think I truly always needed you, more than you needed me. Love you to the moon and back and the sun and back, I miss you even more.
Sis
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