Kobi,
A year ago, about this time, was the last time I would see Grandma alive and she would pass the following morning. I spent that entire 2 weeks running back and forth from Winchester to home, over 40 minutes one way, trying to be by her side as much as possible. I wanted to be there when she passed. I was emotionally and physically exhausted trying to cope with what was going on there, the fact that you weren't there, and trying to be a Mom and student. I was tired of losing everyone I loved, I was tired of trying to be okay, I was just tired. I was at a point, and most days I still am, where I don't know who I am grieving anymore, I just know that I'm drowning in grief of some sort. I knew this week was going to be hard, but then again, this time of year is always hard for me.
I tried to honor Grandma as much as I could over the past week. While my wedding rings were getting repaired I wore Grandma's set so I could keep her close. I was so incredibly honored when she gave them to me. Of all the marriages to watch and admire, hers and Pepa's was definitely on the top of my list. I also used her recipe book to make some Christmas goodies with the kids. I even put on her Christmas cd's and smiled thinking back on all the memories we made while listening to them. I would love to spend another Grandkid's day, laughing with you, and them. I miss her. She always had advice I hadn't thought of, and she helped me so much after you were killed. She told me that she believed it was part of why she was still alive.
I had to comfort the girls this evening. The twins were crying when I went upstairs and holding each other. They miss you. Christmas is just another reminder that you aren't here. It's like the giant elephant in the room, that even though we try to smile and make it through, everyone is missing you.
I love you. Give Grandma my love, too. You can tell her that even though you're gone, I'm still weird, and I know she loves me anyway.
Miss you both.
-K
Thursday, December 20, 2018
Monday, November 26, 2018
No Joy
Kobi,
Seeing your stocking hanging from my mantle doesn't make me smile anymore. It doesn't make me look forward to sitting on the floor next to you on Christmas morning, knee to knee, watching the girls open presents, because I know that's not going to happen this year, or any year, ever again. It makes my heart break and ache to wrap my arms around you. Abby asked me if I was going to hang your stocking again this year, and I told her, "Absolutely!" She was so giddy. Like she thought I would just pack it up from now on and pretend you didn't exist. You can rest assured that it's a permanent Christmas tradition in this household.
The holidays are hard. Very hard. Not that the normal days are easy yet either. December is awful. Grandma will be gone a year on December 21, her birthday and Dad's on the 23, Christmas, and then 14 years since Dad passed on the 27. I'll be going through all the emotions without my support system, without you.
I'm trying to refrain from posting about it all on Facebook, as I'm sure my friends are over hearing about how much I miss you. I just can't help it. I'm never going to be over this. How does one get over this? I'm not ready to have to say that the last time I saw you was years ago, and after midnight on December 31, I will have to say you died in 2017 instead of saying last year. I feel like this will make me sound even more insane, because I'm not where other people feel I should be in my grief. I'm still in shock that I can't call you every night, or expect to see you.
Sometimes I want to put someone else in my shoes for a day. Let me take away their best friend, then let me also take away their only sibling, and not just take away, but they be brutally and maliciously murdered and arrest no one for it. How does that feel 18 months after the fact? How does it feel to live with that 24/7 for 18 months? Maybe I'm just broken. Maybe there is something so incredibly wrong with me that I can't be okay. I can't see the freaking joy in the bad that they want me to see. There isn't anything good from you being dead. Nothing. Watching my kids break down on several occasions in tears. Breaking down myself. Losing your kindness, love and light from this world. That was not, and will never be a positive thing. Don't try to spin it and make me sound like I'm less of a person for being unable to look at it that way. Don't throw memes in my face about how I just need to "find the joy" in the situation.
There is no joy in murder. There is no joy in loss. Losing you has been hell, and the flames are still roaring.
I'm trying my best to just keep my feet moving forward. I need that to be enough.
I love you to the moon and back, and the sun and back. I miss you more than I can put into words.
Sis
Seeing your stocking hanging from my mantle doesn't make me smile anymore. It doesn't make me look forward to sitting on the floor next to you on Christmas morning, knee to knee, watching the girls open presents, because I know that's not going to happen this year, or any year, ever again. It makes my heart break and ache to wrap my arms around you. Abby asked me if I was going to hang your stocking again this year, and I told her, "Absolutely!" She was so giddy. Like she thought I would just pack it up from now on and pretend you didn't exist. You can rest assured that it's a permanent Christmas tradition in this household.
The holidays are hard. Very hard. Not that the normal days are easy yet either. December is awful. Grandma will be gone a year on December 21, her birthday and Dad's on the 23, Christmas, and then 14 years since Dad passed on the 27. I'll be going through all the emotions without my support system, without you.
I'm trying to refrain from posting about it all on Facebook, as I'm sure my friends are over hearing about how much I miss you. I just can't help it. I'm never going to be over this. How does one get over this? I'm not ready to have to say that the last time I saw you was years ago, and after midnight on December 31, I will have to say you died in 2017 instead of saying last year. I feel like this will make me sound even more insane, because I'm not where other people feel I should be in my grief. I'm still in shock that I can't call you every night, or expect to see you.
Sometimes I want to put someone else in my shoes for a day. Let me take away their best friend, then let me also take away their only sibling, and not just take away, but they be brutally and maliciously murdered and arrest no one for it. How does that feel 18 months after the fact? How does it feel to live with that 24/7 for 18 months? Maybe I'm just broken. Maybe there is something so incredibly wrong with me that I can't be okay. I can't see the freaking joy in the bad that they want me to see. There isn't anything good from you being dead. Nothing. Watching my kids break down on several occasions in tears. Breaking down myself. Losing your kindness, love and light from this world. That was not, and will never be a positive thing. Don't try to spin it and make me sound like I'm less of a person for being unable to look at it that way. Don't throw memes in my face about how I just need to "find the joy" in the situation.
There is no joy in murder. There is no joy in loss. Losing you has been hell, and the flames are still roaring.
I'm trying my best to just keep my feet moving forward. I need that to be enough.
I love you to the moon and back, and the sun and back. I miss you more than I can put into words.
Sis
Saturday, November 17, 2018
Eight Wheels
Kobi,
Today, I put skates on for the first time in almost 2 years. I skated around with your nieces, often with tears running down my cheeks. It was impossible not to see you skating around with them. Watching the pride on your face as they master a few strides without losing their balance, seeing you pick them up and fly around like you were some kind of super hero. You amazed me. You taught Abby how to skate, and while you worked with the twins too, it's been a while and they were young. I'm going to have to teach them all over again, and I know I'll never do as good of a job as you did.
Lately, I feel like the floor is falling out from beneath me. The efforts I've been putting into keeping it together and shoving all my feelings down, seem to be spilling out the top and into everything I do. Some days it feels like I have concrete blocks on my feet and it takes all my effort to lift each foot and place it in the correct place and direction I'm suppose to be going. My grief isn't letting up, and I feel like the waves are just going to consume me some days. Thoughts of you and the horribleness of it all consume me daily. I just can't break away from the undertow.
It's especially hard as we near another holiday season, the first anniversary of losing grandma, and the day we lost Dad. I'm constantly telling myself to just keep going. It's not a very pleasant way to live. Although, I've found few things that are pleasant since we lost you. I'm trying my best.
I love you so very, very much. I miss you.
Love,
Sissy
Today, I put skates on for the first time in almost 2 years. I skated around with your nieces, often with tears running down my cheeks. It was impossible not to see you skating around with them. Watching the pride on your face as they master a few strides without losing their balance, seeing you pick them up and fly around like you were some kind of super hero. You amazed me. You taught Abby how to skate, and while you worked with the twins too, it's been a while and they were young. I'm going to have to teach them all over again, and I know I'll never do as good of a job as you did.
Lately, I feel like the floor is falling out from beneath me. The efforts I've been putting into keeping it together and shoving all my feelings down, seem to be spilling out the top and into everything I do. Some days it feels like I have concrete blocks on my feet and it takes all my effort to lift each foot and place it in the correct place and direction I'm suppose to be going. My grief isn't letting up, and I feel like the waves are just going to consume me some days. Thoughts of you and the horribleness of it all consume me daily. I just can't break away from the undertow.
It's especially hard as we near another holiday season, the first anniversary of losing grandma, and the day we lost Dad. I'm constantly telling myself to just keep going. It's not a very pleasant way to live. Although, I've found few things that are pleasant since we lost you. I'm trying my best.
I love you so very, very much. I miss you.
Love,
Sissy
Sunday, October 28, 2018
Maybe, Tennesee
Kobi,
Today, I'm thinking back to the trip we took to Tennessee together. It was the last time we ever stepped foot in that house. It was shortly after Dad had died and we wanted to see our family members. We wanted to feel close to Dad. You were still in college and I had a break from school, it was perfect timing.
We drove 8 and a half hours together in the car, both ways. I loved every second of it. We joked, we laughed, we sang at the top of our lungs to "99 Red Balloons," and when we left, we cried. I'm so grateful for that trip we took. Even though being there without Dad was hard, and everything was so messed up in our lives, I'm so glad we spent that time together.
Life is so very weird. You don't think that a trip to see family that lives far away isn't going to be remembered for the time you had there, but for the time you had getting and coming home. I couldn't tell you what we talked about at my Grandmother's house, or what food was cooked for Thanksgiving, but I can tell you some of the songs we sang, how we both banged on the dashboard pretending to drum and how much we laughed over how frequently we both had to pee.
Until a couple days ago, I forgot we had even taken the trip. We were talking about traveling to Georgia for Thanksgiving and it suddenly brought those memories up. I love when I'm reminded of the things we did together. It's still so incredibly hard for me to believe that you are gone. It's even harder for me to wrap my mind around how it happened.
I wouldn't give these memories away for less pain. But I wish I could keep both the memories and you.
I love you so very much.
Sis
Today, I'm thinking back to the trip we took to Tennessee together. It was the last time we ever stepped foot in that house. It was shortly after Dad had died and we wanted to see our family members. We wanted to feel close to Dad. You were still in college and I had a break from school, it was perfect timing.
We drove 8 and a half hours together in the car, both ways. I loved every second of it. We joked, we laughed, we sang at the top of our lungs to "99 Red Balloons," and when we left, we cried. I'm so grateful for that trip we took. Even though being there without Dad was hard, and everything was so messed up in our lives, I'm so glad we spent that time together.
Life is so very weird. You don't think that a trip to see family that lives far away isn't going to be remembered for the time you had there, but for the time you had getting and coming home. I couldn't tell you what we talked about at my Grandmother's house, or what food was cooked for Thanksgiving, but I can tell you some of the songs we sang, how we both banged on the dashboard pretending to drum and how much we laughed over how frequently we both had to pee.
Until a couple days ago, I forgot we had even taken the trip. We were talking about traveling to Georgia for Thanksgiving and it suddenly brought those memories up. I love when I'm reminded of the things we did together. It's still so incredibly hard for me to believe that you are gone. It's even harder for me to wrap my mind around how it happened.
I wouldn't give these memories away for less pain. But I wish I could keep both the memories and you.
I love you so very much.
Sis
Monday, October 8, 2018
Evidence Tape
It's not something that most normal people even know about. It's something I wish I didn't know about. It's not some complicated thing, it's just a piece of tape that says, "Evidence" on it. Sounds basic, right? When you are the family member of a homicide victim, it's anything but basic, and tonight, it's all I can think of.
I should be sleeping, studying or doing a million other things, but I can't stop thinking about the evidence tape. Those boxes taped closed with that red, haunting tape. They use it to close the boxes that enclose evidence and personal items from your deceased family member. It's the items they keep for months looking over before they are finally returned to you. It's just one more thing that is drug out and makes recovering from a homicide that much harder.
It's been a year now since I received those ugly brown boxes with the red tape, granted, it wasn't as difficult as the blood splattered items I received a few months before them, but we'll save that terrible memory for another time. Those boxes held items my brother used on a regular basis. An iPad, computer, camera, and several other things. It also contained his old cell phone, the one he broke and I was suppose to send back to the phone company to replace. He had an alarm set to remind him that he had skate practice, and that "Rebels" alarm would pop up from time to time. It was another painful reminder that he wasn't where he was suppose to be.
Maybe that's what is more haunting than anything tonight. He's not where he's suppose to be. He's in a coffin in the middle of nowhere. He isn't on the phone with me right now. He isn't at practice or in bed. He isn't going to be here this weekend to see his nieces turn 6. It's so hard to think about how different they were the last time he was at their birthday. It makes me physically sick to my stomach.
This will be the first time we've been back to Escapades since his passing. He loved putting on his knee and elbow pads and climbing through the tubes with the girls. They adored it. They adore him.
This never gets easier. I just miss him more and more.
I should be sleeping, studying or doing a million other things, but I can't stop thinking about the evidence tape. Those boxes taped closed with that red, haunting tape. They use it to close the boxes that enclose evidence and personal items from your deceased family member. It's the items they keep for months looking over before they are finally returned to you. It's just one more thing that is drug out and makes recovering from a homicide that much harder.
It's been a year now since I received those ugly brown boxes with the red tape, granted, it wasn't as difficult as the blood splattered items I received a few months before them, but we'll save that terrible memory for another time. Those boxes held items my brother used on a regular basis. An iPad, computer, camera, and several other things. It also contained his old cell phone, the one he broke and I was suppose to send back to the phone company to replace. He had an alarm set to remind him that he had skate practice, and that "Rebels" alarm would pop up from time to time. It was another painful reminder that he wasn't where he was suppose to be.
Maybe that's what is more haunting than anything tonight. He's not where he's suppose to be. He's in a coffin in the middle of nowhere. He isn't on the phone with me right now. He isn't at practice or in bed. He isn't going to be here this weekend to see his nieces turn 6. It's so hard to think about how different they were the last time he was at their birthday. It makes me physically sick to my stomach.
This will be the first time we've been back to Escapades since his passing. He loved putting on his knee and elbow pads and climbing through the tubes with the girls. They adored it. They adore him.
This never gets easier. I just miss him more and more.
Sunday, September 16, 2018
Jealousy
Some days are easier than others. Some days I can be overwhelmingly happy for the people in my life and on Facebook, who have 2 siblings, both their parents, or maybe at least a grandparent left. Unfortunately, this isn't the case for me. I see articles being posted about how great it is to have grandparents living close by for your kids, or how your brother is always there for you, and I'm irrationally angry. I am not angry at you, I'm angry at my situation. I'm angry at the life that I've been given, the hand I've been dealt.
Growing up, I had a set of grandparents who lived very far away, but we spent every summer there and they were very active in our lives. I had 2 sets of grandparents who lived within 15 minutes of where I grew up. I had more cousins, and uncles/aunts than most people I knew.
People grow up and they go their own ways, and that part I understand. But in a span of 5 years, I lost 3 of the grandparents who lived closest to me. I lost my Father when I was 13 years old. He lost his battle with depression and it ultimately ended his life. It was a terrible and miserable time for me, and our family. It's one of those things that you don't know how to get through but one day you're just looking back at it all finally on the other side of a very dark tunnel. So by the very young age of 22, I had lost my 3 grandparents, and a parent. I wish that my unfortunate times stopped there.
Even with all that loss, I still felt like I was doing okay. I felt like I could get through anything life threw at me, because I had my brother. He made it so I never felt like I was missing anything. The amount of love he gave me was so incredibly big that I felt like I would be okay. Then I awoke one morning, to the devastating news that he had been murdered. Not even 8 months later, the only grandparent we had left, lost her battle to cancer.
My Mother spends at least 8 months out of the year 16 hours away. So while it's better when she's home, that isn't always the case. Somedays, I've never felt so alone in my life. No, I'm not really alone, I have an amazing husband and 4 awesome kids, but it isn't the same thing. It still feels hard, existing without the family you came from. Those people who know your stories, who know what you were like when you were a kid. The people who remember that you had crazy blonde hair and freckles during the summer time.
I think what's even harder for me, is knowing my kids won't have family around while they grow up. I just hope that we can love them big enough, like my brother loved me, that they never feel like they are missing anything. We've been fortunate enough to have friends we consider family in their lives. I can't even begin to explain how grateful we are to have them around. I hope everyday that it helps fill in the gaps with their unwavering love and support.
So yes, some days I'm going to be a little angry when I see those people and things you get to experience and have for a lot longer than me. I try very hard to be insanely happy for you and smile with you that you are able to have those things. But sometimes, jealousy rears its ugly head and makes me feel sorry for myself, and my kids, and all that we are missing out on. I'll apologize again and again for the way I feel, but please understand, I would give anything to be able to feel differently, to have the privileges that allowed me that.
Love each other, with all your heart, with everything you have, and appreciate every moment. 💗
Growing up, I had a set of grandparents who lived very far away, but we spent every summer there and they were very active in our lives. I had 2 sets of grandparents who lived within 15 minutes of where I grew up. I had more cousins, and uncles/aunts than most people I knew.
People grow up and they go their own ways, and that part I understand. But in a span of 5 years, I lost 3 of the grandparents who lived closest to me. I lost my Father when I was 13 years old. He lost his battle with depression and it ultimately ended his life. It was a terrible and miserable time for me, and our family. It's one of those things that you don't know how to get through but one day you're just looking back at it all finally on the other side of a very dark tunnel. So by the very young age of 22, I had lost my 3 grandparents, and a parent. I wish that my unfortunate times stopped there.
Even with all that loss, I still felt like I was doing okay. I felt like I could get through anything life threw at me, because I had my brother. He made it so I never felt like I was missing anything. The amount of love he gave me was so incredibly big that I felt like I would be okay. Then I awoke one morning, to the devastating news that he had been murdered. Not even 8 months later, the only grandparent we had left, lost her battle to cancer.
My Mother spends at least 8 months out of the year 16 hours away. So while it's better when she's home, that isn't always the case. Somedays, I've never felt so alone in my life. No, I'm not really alone, I have an amazing husband and 4 awesome kids, but it isn't the same thing. It still feels hard, existing without the family you came from. Those people who know your stories, who know what you were like when you were a kid. The people who remember that you had crazy blonde hair and freckles during the summer time.
I think what's even harder for me, is knowing my kids won't have family around while they grow up. I just hope that we can love them big enough, like my brother loved me, that they never feel like they are missing anything. We've been fortunate enough to have friends we consider family in their lives. I can't even begin to explain how grateful we are to have them around. I hope everyday that it helps fill in the gaps with their unwavering love and support.
So yes, some days I'm going to be a little angry when I see those people and things you get to experience and have for a lot longer than me. I try very hard to be insanely happy for you and smile with you that you are able to have those things. But sometimes, jealousy rears its ugly head and makes me feel sorry for myself, and my kids, and all that we are missing out on. I'll apologize again and again for the way I feel, but please understand, I would give anything to be able to feel differently, to have the privileges that allowed me that.
Love each other, with all your heart, with everything you have, and appreciate every moment. 💗
Wednesday, September 12, 2018
My Busy Head
Kobi,
A few people have asked me why I started working again. It's not like we hadn't already been living on one income for years and managed, or that I didn't have anything going on. With 4 kids, and school, life was already pretty busy. However, it didn't keep my head busy enough. When I was done with school there was still a little bit of down time mentally. Or I should say, time to dwell on everything that has happened over the past 16 months.
It's easy to think about the trauma and the horribleness of it all when I'm folding laundry or loading a dishwasher. It's a lot harder to think about those things when I'm working with patients or learning. Too often, my mind still goes to that place where I think about you bleeding out behind your building, or that you are laying in a coffin where I'll never be able to see or touch you ever again. Way too often my mind is still in that place where I can't see past what has happened to you to even get through the day without breaking down. I still feel that weight in the evenings when I would spend hours on the phone with you, and now, it's just filled with my own thoughts and things I have to do and work through without your guidance.
Thankfully, the past few weeks since working has helped give me some things to focus on outside of that. No, it hasn't been perfect, and honestly it's been a really tough few weeks getting into a schedule, trying to succeed in my classes still and helping the girls adjust to our new found crazy. It's all been hard. But it's been hard in a very different way. Stressful? Absolutely! But compared to what I've been through, manageable.
And while it's helped, right now, I'm feeling the weight of the world, the weight of your loss. My chest hurts, I feel like I might be sick and I want to do anything to stop the pain. I want to hear your voice again. Hear you laugh again. Hear you tell me you love me again. And I think more than anything right now, I need to hear you say, "Breathe with me. You've got this. You can do this!"
I miss and love you so very much, best friend.
Love always,
Sis
A few people have asked me why I started working again. It's not like we hadn't already been living on one income for years and managed, or that I didn't have anything going on. With 4 kids, and school, life was already pretty busy. However, it didn't keep my head busy enough. When I was done with school there was still a little bit of down time mentally. Or I should say, time to dwell on everything that has happened over the past 16 months.
It's easy to think about the trauma and the horribleness of it all when I'm folding laundry or loading a dishwasher. It's a lot harder to think about those things when I'm working with patients or learning. Too often, my mind still goes to that place where I think about you bleeding out behind your building, or that you are laying in a coffin where I'll never be able to see or touch you ever again. Way too often my mind is still in that place where I can't see past what has happened to you to even get through the day without breaking down. I still feel that weight in the evenings when I would spend hours on the phone with you, and now, it's just filled with my own thoughts and things I have to do and work through without your guidance.
Thankfully, the past few weeks since working has helped give me some things to focus on outside of that. No, it hasn't been perfect, and honestly it's been a really tough few weeks getting into a schedule, trying to succeed in my classes still and helping the girls adjust to our new found crazy. It's all been hard. But it's been hard in a very different way. Stressful? Absolutely! But compared to what I've been through, manageable.
And while it's helped, right now, I'm feeling the weight of the world, the weight of your loss. My chest hurts, I feel like I might be sick and I want to do anything to stop the pain. I want to hear your voice again. Hear you laugh again. Hear you tell me you love me again. And I think more than anything right now, I need to hear you say, "Breathe with me. You've got this. You can do this!"
I miss and love you so very much, best friend.
Love always,
Sis
Monday, August 20, 2018
2 Very Unmerry Birthdays
Kobi,
This is the first time I’ve been sober for one of these. On August 14th of last year, I was drunk. On May 1st, of this year, I was drunk. This year, life is hurrying on with you. Everyone has their places to be. I can’t drink because I have to drive and I have no driver this year. I have children to get up at 5 am and get off to school. I have people relying on me. And even on the days I want to check out and just wallow in my grief, I’m held responsible for my kids.
How can you be gone when you are suppose to be celebrating your 33rd birthday? How can this be our life now?
Tonight, I’m painfully aware of how sober I am. And before you worry, I don’t have a drinking problem, I never have. In fact, a glass of wine will make me unable to walk a straight line, I’ve just had a horrible time coping with all of this. Alcohol made it a little easier. I’m suddenly sympathetic to every addict, to every broken human being just looking for a way to get through the black. I’m currently in the process of lowering the dosage on my medication. I’m trying to find my new normal and survive it. Whatever that is. I don’t like it. I don’t even want it. But I’ve never been the girl who stops riding her bike just because she fell down. I always get back up again.
So my training wheels are coming off, and I have to learn how to balance this thing without you there, ready to catch me. It’s a scary thing, to be here without you. Who’s going to carry me when I fall down and skin my knee? Who’s going to love me through it? All of it? Some how, I know it will still be you.
Love you and I’m missing you always.
Monday, July 9, 2018
Still
Kobi,
This evening I sat on the floor, put my hand across your written words on my arm, tilted my head forward, and pretended you were sitting right there with me. Your head against mine, your hand in mine, the world still and quiet. I wanted to feel something, anything, that would tell me you are still here. I wanted to feel weight against my forehead, movement in my hand, the world spin. I really just needed that tonight. But my head was cold and unaccompanied, my hand empty, and my world, still as ever.
I feel you here with me all the time. But then I wonder if it's just my head trying to make my heart believe it. I wonder if that feeling in my stomach isn't your presence in my life, but in fact your absence. My grief plays with my head. It tries desperately to make sense of this life without you. There are times in your life where you are under an umbrella in the sun, and other times where you are in such a darkness that you need a flash light to see just a foot in front of your face. My head has no sun at the moment. It's rainy and dark. My family and friends are like stars in the sky shining down on me, but it feels so hard to reach them. So hard to explain the storm that's raging on behind my calm exterior.
No one knows just how much you meant to me, and I don't even know how to begin to describe it. You were my person. You could calm me like no one else. You were my perfect match in a friend and a sibling. You were everything to me and so much more. I love you with all that I am, and I miss you more every single day.
Sis
This evening I sat on the floor, put my hand across your written words on my arm, tilted my head forward, and pretended you were sitting right there with me. Your head against mine, your hand in mine, the world still and quiet. I wanted to feel something, anything, that would tell me you are still here. I wanted to feel weight against my forehead, movement in my hand, the world spin. I really just needed that tonight. But my head was cold and unaccompanied, my hand empty, and my world, still as ever.
I feel you here with me all the time. But then I wonder if it's just my head trying to make my heart believe it. I wonder if that feeling in my stomach isn't your presence in my life, but in fact your absence. My grief plays with my head. It tries desperately to make sense of this life without you. There are times in your life where you are under an umbrella in the sun, and other times where you are in such a darkness that you need a flash light to see just a foot in front of your face. My head has no sun at the moment. It's rainy and dark. My family and friends are like stars in the sky shining down on me, but it feels so hard to reach them. So hard to explain the storm that's raging on behind my calm exterior.
No one knows just how much you meant to me, and I don't even know how to begin to describe it. You were my person. You could calm me like no one else. You were my perfect match in a friend and a sibling. You were everything to me and so much more. I love you with all that I am, and I miss you more every single day.
Sis
Tuesday, May 8, 2018
365 days
Kobi,
I couldn't write this on the actual 1 year anniversary. It was too hard, and I simply didn't have the words. And as you know, me not having the words is rather extraordinary. I wrote for the school paper in high school, and I've been writing poetry and song lyrics since I was old enough to read and write. A lack of words has never been an issue for me. But I didn't know how to express the pain, sadness, the complete heartbreak I have been experiencing for over a year now. Mostly, because there aren't enough words in our dictionary to even begin to scratch the surface.
It isn't just the day you died that breaks my heart, it's the day I found out that we was just me. It was the day your body was picked apart piece by piece and everything that made you who you were was removed, and we went into that awful room and ID'd your body. It's the day we went to talk to the detective about what happened to you and went to your apartment to pick out the clothes you would spend forever in. The day we made your funeral arrangements and picked out your casket. The day we talked to the pastor and told him how incredibly important you were to us so he could get everything just perfect when we held your services. It's the day I first saw you in your casket, and I freaked out sobbing and screaming before I went into shock and didn't speak for a half an hour. It's the day we laid you to rest, when I said goodbye to you for the last time. And it's the moment, when everyone else was leaving, I stepped up to your coffin, the wind blew really hard, and I threw myself on top of your closed casket, sobbing, knowing I'd never be that close to you again. I left my kiss mark, and my tears over where your face was, and I didn't take my eyes off your beautiful green box until I couldn't see it in my rearview anymore.
Every day since those 8 days has been hard too. Every time I missed you so much that the person I needed to get me through my grief was in fact you. Every time the girls did something adorable and I went to call you to tell you all about it. Every birthday party you missed and I imagined you right there smiling with pride. All the times I replayed your final moments like a broken record in my head. Every moment of every day that I have thought about you. All the tears, all the anger, every ounce of strength it has taken me to keep my feet moving forward. And they didn't move very far forward until I made the decision that I was ready to reenroll in school just a couple weeks ago.
I thought it would feel good, exciting to get back to what I know, what I loved, and it did, but it also felt terrifying, and so incredibly devastating to be doing it all without you. To be moving past the spot where my life was frozen, frozen close to where you stopped existing. I imagined your face when you watched me walk across the stage, your beaming smile and loud cheering. Your love, pride and unwavering support. It nearly broke what was left of me. I don't want to go forward without you. I shouldn't have to go forward without you. They gave me no choice. They gave you no chance. They took your life, and forever altered mine.
The loneliness of this life without you is the worst. I isolate myself from those who love me, and sometimes have to force myself to communicate so I don't lose them too. No one else remembers the things we did as kids, no one else knows the ins and outs of our crazy family, no one else knows everything about me, and I truly don't think anyone will ever love me as much as you loved me. Every night, I take a moment before I turn on my tv and try to get comfortable, I sit and think about all the things I wish I could say to you, all the details about my day I would tell you, and all the things you might have done that day. I imagine your laugh, your venting, and more than anything, I imagine your "I love you." And that silence in that moment, it's haunting.
Everyone thinks that after I've hit a certain period of time, that I'm suppose to be fine, moving on, functioning without pause. But I don't want to move on. Even if I could, I don't want to. I'll move forward, but I'm not going to move on. I'd rather drag that weight around, to be reminded of you in every moment, than to ever put it down and walk away. It's harder to move with that extra weight, that incredibly painful, heavy weight, but I won't stop fighting for you, missing you and loving you in every single moment of every single day.
I haven't reached a point in my grief where I'm not actively grieving every day. Most days I still shed tears, most days I still stare off and think about where you are right now. I still read the news stories, check your Facebook to be reminded by the "Remembering Kobi Lee Walden," that you aren't going to have posted anything. I still try to call you. I still need you, and love you, and miss you an infinite amount. My bad days still outweigh my good, and I'm still struggling to get through them. I'm angry most of the time, at everything and everyone. I don't know how long until I'm semi-normal again, but I hope that the people I love are understanding and patient enough to love me through it all. Because living without you is the hardest thing I've ever had to do, and no length of time is going to make that any better.
A year ago today, I placed a huge chunk of my heart into the ground, my only sibling, my forever best friend. That still feels so impossible, like it couldn't be true. And I still don't know how it is. I still catch myself thinking of you in the present tense, because you will always be present to me. I love you more than I can express in any amount of words. Missing you always.
Sis
I couldn't write this on the actual 1 year anniversary. It was too hard, and I simply didn't have the words. And as you know, me not having the words is rather extraordinary. I wrote for the school paper in high school, and I've been writing poetry and song lyrics since I was old enough to read and write. A lack of words has never been an issue for me. But I didn't know how to express the pain, sadness, the complete heartbreak I have been experiencing for over a year now. Mostly, because there aren't enough words in our dictionary to even begin to scratch the surface.
It isn't just the day you died that breaks my heart, it's the day I found out that we was just me. It was the day your body was picked apart piece by piece and everything that made you who you were was removed, and we went into that awful room and ID'd your body. It's the day we went to talk to the detective about what happened to you and went to your apartment to pick out the clothes you would spend forever in. The day we made your funeral arrangements and picked out your casket. The day we talked to the pastor and told him how incredibly important you were to us so he could get everything just perfect when we held your services. It's the day I first saw you in your casket, and I freaked out sobbing and screaming before I went into shock and didn't speak for a half an hour. It's the day we laid you to rest, when I said goodbye to you for the last time. And it's the moment, when everyone else was leaving, I stepped up to your coffin, the wind blew really hard, and I threw myself on top of your closed casket, sobbing, knowing I'd never be that close to you again. I left my kiss mark, and my tears over where your face was, and I didn't take my eyes off your beautiful green box until I couldn't see it in my rearview anymore.
Every day since those 8 days has been hard too. Every time I missed you so much that the person I needed to get me through my grief was in fact you. Every time the girls did something adorable and I went to call you to tell you all about it. Every birthday party you missed and I imagined you right there smiling with pride. All the times I replayed your final moments like a broken record in my head. Every moment of every day that I have thought about you. All the tears, all the anger, every ounce of strength it has taken me to keep my feet moving forward. And they didn't move very far forward until I made the decision that I was ready to reenroll in school just a couple weeks ago.
I thought it would feel good, exciting to get back to what I know, what I loved, and it did, but it also felt terrifying, and so incredibly devastating to be doing it all without you. To be moving past the spot where my life was frozen, frozen close to where you stopped existing. I imagined your face when you watched me walk across the stage, your beaming smile and loud cheering. Your love, pride and unwavering support. It nearly broke what was left of me. I don't want to go forward without you. I shouldn't have to go forward without you. They gave me no choice. They gave you no chance. They took your life, and forever altered mine.
The loneliness of this life without you is the worst. I isolate myself from those who love me, and sometimes have to force myself to communicate so I don't lose them too. No one else remembers the things we did as kids, no one else knows the ins and outs of our crazy family, no one else knows everything about me, and I truly don't think anyone will ever love me as much as you loved me. Every night, I take a moment before I turn on my tv and try to get comfortable, I sit and think about all the things I wish I could say to you, all the details about my day I would tell you, and all the things you might have done that day. I imagine your laugh, your venting, and more than anything, I imagine your "I love you." And that silence in that moment, it's haunting.
Everyone thinks that after I've hit a certain period of time, that I'm suppose to be fine, moving on, functioning without pause. But I don't want to move on. Even if I could, I don't want to. I'll move forward, but I'm not going to move on. I'd rather drag that weight around, to be reminded of you in every moment, than to ever put it down and walk away. It's harder to move with that extra weight, that incredibly painful, heavy weight, but I won't stop fighting for you, missing you and loving you in every single moment of every single day.
I haven't reached a point in my grief where I'm not actively grieving every day. Most days I still shed tears, most days I still stare off and think about where you are right now. I still read the news stories, check your Facebook to be reminded by the "Remembering Kobi Lee Walden," that you aren't going to have posted anything. I still try to call you. I still need you, and love you, and miss you an infinite amount. My bad days still outweigh my good, and I'm still struggling to get through them. I'm angry most of the time, at everything and everyone. I don't know how long until I'm semi-normal again, but I hope that the people I love are understanding and patient enough to love me through it all. Because living without you is the hardest thing I've ever had to do, and no length of time is going to make that any better.
A year ago today, I placed a huge chunk of my heart into the ground, my only sibling, my forever best friend. That still feels so impossible, like it couldn't be true. And I still don't know how it is. I still catch myself thinking of you in the present tense, because you will always be present to me. I love you more than I can express in any amount of words. Missing you always.
Sis
Wednesday, April 18, 2018
Winter is Coming
Kobi,
I still feel this way, often. I have to remind myself, that there are people in this world you may want to be suffering; Our immediate family who didn't show up to your funeral because it was "too hard" and never bothered to call to check on me, the person who disgraced you and did you wrong in your death, the person who killed you and those who aren't talking, and anyone who hurts me, because you are my protective big brother like that. I do know, however, that I am not one of those people. I know that you loved me more than anything. I know, not because I'm arrogant, but because you told me, and I learned in your passing, you told and showed others your love for me too. You want me to continue to laugh and play with my girls. You want me to love and be loved. You want me to be successful and do the things you believed I was meant to do. You want me to be me, the me you loved, the me you still hope I'll be, the me that disappeared the day you died. The more I try to bring that person back out, the more I feel that she will never return. And I'm sorry, if I can't ever find her again.
I have felt so physically ill this week, and I thought for sure I had some kind of bug, but every time I think about what's coming up, the more I feel my stomach turn, feel my mouth fill, my head hurt, and my whole body start to shake. I felt this way for months after you died. And that pit in my stomach has been there every day since. My fingers shook every time I dealt with something on my phone in regards to you and your passing, and again, my thumbs can barely steady long enough to send a text. I feel like I did right after you died. I feel faint, sick and like I'm going to burst into tears at any given moment. I feel like I can't breathe. And to make matters worse, I tried to call you last night. I wanted to tell you how stressed I was. I wanted to talk to you for hours about the girls and all the silly things they have done or said. I just want to talk to you. So freaking badly I can almost hear your voice. I keep thinking about what they did to you, how you felt, what you saw and my chest feels like it's going to explode. I know what's coming, and I'm trying hard to prepare myself for it. But there's no preparing for the anniversary of my world blowing up. I love you, so much, Bubby. Stay close please. I miss you.
Sis
Sunday, February 25, 2018
Grandma
Kobi,
I'm missing Grandma a lot tonight, but that of course also means that I'm missing you. I can't believe Grandma is gone now. Yours was sudden and unexpected, but hers was so drawn out that it almost seemed like maybe it would just never happen. We watched her fade away slowly, and I held onto her hand as much as I could, remembering every detail of her face. When I told her I wasn't ready for her to go, she told me it was time for her to be with you. She said, "Kobi needs me." And as much as I wanted her here for myself, I knew it was true. Knowing she is there with you is almost a peaceful feeling. I told her to tell you that I love you and that I miss you. Not that I haven't told you these things every single day since you have been gone, but in case you can't hear me, I wanted to be sure. I wrote Grandma this letter last year shortly before you passed, and I never got to share it with you.
I wanted her to know how much she meant to me before she passed. She called me some time later and told me how very proud she was of me, who I am, and the life that I've created. She told me that she knew I was going to be an incredible nurse and that I was going to change lives with my compassion. To say that the two of you have helped make me who I am, wouldn't even scratch the surface. When Dad died, it took a village to raise me and pull me through it, but you all rose to the challenge. I'm so grateful to have been raised by the most amazing people. I wouldn't be here without you, Grandma, and Mom. Give my love to Grandma, Pepa, Mema, Poppy, our Uncles, and Dad. But just for the record, I love you the most and I miss you so much.
Sis
I'm missing Grandma a lot tonight, but that of course also means that I'm missing you. I can't believe Grandma is gone now. Yours was sudden and unexpected, but hers was so drawn out that it almost seemed like maybe it would just never happen. We watched her fade away slowly, and I held onto her hand as much as I could, remembering every detail of her face. When I told her I wasn't ready for her to go, she told me it was time for her to be with you. She said, "Kobi needs me." And as much as I wanted her here for myself, I knew it was true. Knowing she is there with you is almost a peaceful feeling. I told her to tell you that I love you and that I miss you. Not that I haven't told you these things every single day since you have been gone, but in case you can't hear me, I wanted to be sure. I wrote Grandma this letter last year shortly before you passed, and I never got to share it with you.
"I don't want to upset you, by any means, but I did just want to take a moment to let you know how much you mean to me. You have always been an anchor point for me in my life. Talking with you either on the phone, or just sitting down with you and having a conversation has always helped bring everything into focus. I loved when I got the opportunity to sneak over without the kids and I got to just sit and talk with you by myself. I enjoyed that so very much.
You read me like a book. You truly notice me. You know when I'm upset, stressed and you also notice when I'm happy. You know me better than I think anyone does. You even noticed when I was missing from a room as a child and you would always come find me and make sure I was okay. You always knew what to say in those moments to help me face the world again. In the storm that was my childhood, you were always my calm and steady.
I remember after my Dad died and I was outside by myself crying. You noticed me, and you came out to talk to me and held me while I cried. I have never forgotten that. You let me stay with you and you let me sleep in the big bed where we talked. You were truly there for me. I don't think I would have made it through without you. That was such an awful time in my life, but you supporting me through it all made it livable and I've always cherished that one on one time that I had with you. You also always gave me room to talk about my father. You never shied away from a conversation about him and sometimes in that moment, all I needed was to hear those memories. You always offered them.
When Dad did pass, most of his family went with him. You stuck around always. You and Pepa never backed away from us. Even when they wanted nothing to do with us and didn't invite us to our own Mema's funeral you took us to dinner after her funeral. Though we were hurting, you made us feel welcome and loved at a time we were feeling abandoned and unwanted. We've always been grateful for that.
You and Pepa have always been there for us. It didn't matter when Kobi came out, or I was pregnant and barely out of high school, or when I got divorced. We were terrified to tell you guys, but it never mattered to you. You loved us any way. You have showed us what true unconditional love is. I modeled Casey after Pepa and the kind, good, hard working man that he was. I hope one day I can be half the mother and woman that you are. But most of all, I hope that I made you guys proud. I wouldn't be the Mother or the person that I am if it wasn't for you. You were there in some of my most pivotal moments inspiring me to be better, and showing me the support that I needed. In all of the hardest parts of my life, you were there giving me guidance, helping me through. I don't know what I will do without you.
I am proud of you. I always tell people how smart, loving and funny my Grandma is. I have unfortunately known what it's like to have awful grandparents who had the ability to simply walk out of my life and not care to know how I'm doing. But I have also had the great privilege of having amazing, loving, supporting grandparents who I could not be more proud to have as my own. Thank you for that. Thank you for always noticing me, even when no one else did. I can't imagine my world without you in it.
I love you very much"
Sis
Your Girls
Kobi,
This past Thursday, February 1st, marked 9 months that you have been gone. 3 more months until it's been a year that I've talked to you. That feels absolutely impossible to wrap my head around. On that same day, I had to fill out Kindergarten round up forms for your twin nieces, and it made me cry. The first thing I would have done is call you to talk to you about how big our girls are getting, and we would have thought back to when I first told you I was pregnant with them, and all of the sweet memories you have made with them. Instead, I sat on my floor bawling. Knowing you'd never see who these girls turn out to be, you won't know what kind of students they are, or what kind of activities they will be in. We did talk about it though. We talked about how Analise was so active and spunky that she would probably like to be in a sport like volleyball or basketball. We've always known Adison was going to be our dancer. She has loved to dance since she was a baby.
Then I started bawling, because I realized, Ally wasn't even 2 when you died. She isn't going to remember you at all. She isn't going to remember how immensely you loved her. She isn't going to know how you came to Riley to help with her big sisters while we got some worrisome news about her health. She won't know how you squealed on the phone when I told you that after months of trying, we were finally pregnant. She won't ever have her own memories of you. I will tell her how much love you had for that child, but she'll never know it first hand. It absolutely breaks my heart.
Abby is doing great at school after some much needed changes, changes you spent hours on the phone talking me through because I didn't know what to do to help her. She's still the great kid that she's always been. She's getting awards and recognized at school all the time for just being an incredibly kind, and good person. You have always been so proud of her, and I know you still would be.
These girls still talk about you regularly. Ally says your name, even if she doesn't know exactly what she's talking about. The 3 oldest kiddos though, they know exactly who you are, down to your favorite color and your favorite things to do. They know you, and they are always gong to know you. I would give anything to share all the girls newest adventures with you. Ally singing the baby shark song, Adison who is really into drawing these days, Analise who's liking one of your favorite shows, and Abby who is making all A's and one B. But I don't have to hear it to know you are proud of them, you always have been, and I've been sure to let them know.
My heart is so broken, knowing you aren't going to be making more memories with them. They deserved to have that kind of love in their lives, they deserved to be loved by you for longer, and you deserved the time to spend with them. I love you so very much. I miss you.
Sissy
This past Thursday, February 1st, marked 9 months that you have been gone. 3 more months until it's been a year that I've talked to you. That feels absolutely impossible to wrap my head around. On that same day, I had to fill out Kindergarten round up forms for your twin nieces, and it made me cry. The first thing I would have done is call you to talk to you about how big our girls are getting, and we would have thought back to when I first told you I was pregnant with them, and all of the sweet memories you have made with them. Instead, I sat on my floor bawling. Knowing you'd never see who these girls turn out to be, you won't know what kind of students they are, or what kind of activities they will be in. We did talk about it though. We talked about how Analise was so active and spunky that she would probably like to be in a sport like volleyball or basketball. We've always known Adison was going to be our dancer. She has loved to dance since she was a baby.
Then I started bawling, because I realized, Ally wasn't even 2 when you died. She isn't going to remember you at all. She isn't going to remember how immensely you loved her. She isn't going to know how you came to Riley to help with her big sisters while we got some worrisome news about her health. She won't know how you squealed on the phone when I told you that after months of trying, we were finally pregnant. She won't ever have her own memories of you. I will tell her how much love you had for that child, but she'll never know it first hand. It absolutely breaks my heart.
Abby is doing great at school after some much needed changes, changes you spent hours on the phone talking me through because I didn't know what to do to help her. She's still the great kid that she's always been. She's getting awards and recognized at school all the time for just being an incredibly kind, and good person. You have always been so proud of her, and I know you still would be.
These girls still talk about you regularly. Ally says your name, even if she doesn't know exactly what she's talking about. The 3 oldest kiddos though, they know exactly who you are, down to your favorite color and your favorite things to do. They know you, and they are always gong to know you. I would give anything to share all the girls newest adventures with you. Ally singing the baby shark song, Adison who is really into drawing these days, Analise who's liking one of your favorite shows, and Abby who is making all A's and one B. But I don't have to hear it to know you are proud of them, you always have been, and I've been sure to let them know.
My heart is so broken, knowing you aren't going to be making more memories with them. They deserved to have that kind of love in their lives, they deserved to be loved by you for longer, and you deserved the time to spend with them. I love you so very much. I miss you.
Sissy
Tuesday, January 23, 2018
It Takes Me Back
Kobi,
Memories of you and I, come and go often. They don't just come gently, they hit me hard and fast. They run me over and leave me drained and empty feeling.
Today I thought back to the day that you called me because Devon was hospitalized. You told me you'd be fine, as you were crying. But I looked back at Casey, and I told him I had to go. It was 10 pm, but I had to go get you. You couldn't be alone. You needed me. I drove to you, quickly. I waited in the waiting room of the hospital while you talked with him, and the moment you walked out, I rushed to you and wrapped my arms around you. I said, "You're coming home with me." You said through tears, "Ok." I could tell you were anxious. You were shaking in the car. You seemed to be holding it together, until you started crying. I reached over and grabbed your hand. I held your hand until you stopped shaking. I wish I could just hold your hand and make all of this okay again.
Then I was spraying Tide scented Febreeze , and it reminded me of the last time I saw your apartment with you in it. I had helped you move the past two days, and the morning of the last day I helped you, I went to Walmart to pick you up some groceries and picked up some stuff to help you get the pet scent out of some of the items in your apartment. You wanted a fresh start, and I wanted to give you the best one that I could. Before we had everything all settled, you had to rush off to work. I stayed behind at your apartment and unpacked some things, set your coffee pot up and cleaned your couches. I wanted things to look better than you left them. Your apartment smelled like Tide, and I didn't even notice that I bought the same Febreeze at the store the other day. I fought back tears as I sprayed it in the living room, but then I kept spraying it in every room. Because even though it hurts, I love thinking of you.
The night that you died, I knew something was incredibly wrong. I didn't know what, but I paced my house after awaking from sleep, so completely unsettled. And ever since I found out, I have felt hallowed out. It hasn't a changed a bit. I miss you so incredibly bad. Everything about you.
I love you so much.
Sis
Memories of you and I, come and go often. They don't just come gently, they hit me hard and fast. They run me over and leave me drained and empty feeling.
Today I thought back to the day that you called me because Devon was hospitalized. You told me you'd be fine, as you were crying. But I looked back at Casey, and I told him I had to go. It was 10 pm, but I had to go get you. You couldn't be alone. You needed me. I drove to you, quickly. I waited in the waiting room of the hospital while you talked with him, and the moment you walked out, I rushed to you and wrapped my arms around you. I said, "You're coming home with me." You said through tears, "Ok." I could tell you were anxious. You were shaking in the car. You seemed to be holding it together, until you started crying. I reached over and grabbed your hand. I held your hand until you stopped shaking. I wish I could just hold your hand and make all of this okay again.
Then I was spraying Tide scented Febreeze , and it reminded me of the last time I saw your apartment with you in it. I had helped you move the past two days, and the morning of the last day I helped you, I went to Walmart to pick you up some groceries and picked up some stuff to help you get the pet scent out of some of the items in your apartment. You wanted a fresh start, and I wanted to give you the best one that I could. Before we had everything all settled, you had to rush off to work. I stayed behind at your apartment and unpacked some things, set your coffee pot up and cleaned your couches. I wanted things to look better than you left them. Your apartment smelled like Tide, and I didn't even notice that I bought the same Febreeze at the store the other day. I fought back tears as I sprayed it in the living room, but then I kept spraying it in every room. Because even though it hurts, I love thinking of you.
The night that you died, I knew something was incredibly wrong. I didn't know what, but I paced my house after awaking from sleep, so completely unsettled. And ever since I found out, I have felt hallowed out. It hasn't a changed a bit. I miss you so incredibly bad. Everything about you.
I love you so much.
Sis
Monday, January 22, 2018
To The Person Who Killed You
Kobi,
This is to the person who killed you:
You probably think that my brother is just another name on your list, another collection to add to the bodies you've dropped. In fact, you may not even think of him as a person at all, but more of a way you just try to make money. But I also bet, you had no idea that the person you left for dead, would end up on the news, repeatedly. That you would be a wanted, hunted suspect. You had no idea that Kobi was so important to us, that we would do everything we could to make his story go nation wide, and we did. It didn't turn out quite like you planned did it?
Those hands of his held the hands of his nieces to help keep them safe. They turned the pages of books they would bring him repeatedly and he would never turn down. They played peek-a-boo, and initiated tickled fights more times than I can count. They held the hand of his little sister while we buried our father.
The arms you put several bullets into held his baby nieces countless times, while he sat studying their faces. They hugged his Mom, and the rest of his family.
His mouth held a smile that could light up a room. It formed words that could comfort me through the worst of times. It always let me know that everything would be alright. It talked with me for hours on the phone, in person, and to talk to his nieces who adored him.
The legs you wounded, they carried him around the track to perform in a sport he loved. They allowed him to crawl through tunnels, skate and dance with his nieces at their birthday parties.
You didn't just leave a body out there. You left a person. A person who was loved so immensely that the hole you left in our lives can never be filled. You've broken the heart of his mother, sister, brother-in-law, nieces and everyone else who truly loved him. You can not take back the damage that you have caused, and I'll never be able to heal it. If they ever find you, I can assure you of one thing, your life will forever be destroyed. You will never sleep soundly. You will be haunted. Your dreams will be so awful that you aren't even safe there. You will live in a hell much like the one you have sentenced me to. I'll be at every hearing, every chance you might have to get free.
You killed my brother, my best friend and you took away my girls' chance of having such an amazing, loving and caring uncle in their lives. You forever changed their future, not just their now. If you ever had a hope of me being the type of person who writes some big long speech about how I forgive you for the awful thing you did, you were mistaken. I don't forgive you. I will never, ever, forgive you. I wish you nothing but misery, and frankly, I don't care if I'm a lesser person for it. I would much prefer you were tortured, and set on fire, and you will have earned and deserved, every single moment.
From the incredibly angry sister of Kobi Walden
Kala
This is to the person who killed you:
You probably think that my brother is just another name on your list, another collection to add to the bodies you've dropped. In fact, you may not even think of him as a person at all, but more of a way you just try to make money. But I also bet, you had no idea that the person you left for dead, would end up on the news, repeatedly. That you would be a wanted, hunted suspect. You had no idea that Kobi was so important to us, that we would do everything we could to make his story go nation wide, and we did. It didn't turn out quite like you planned did it?
Those hands of his held the hands of his nieces to help keep them safe. They turned the pages of books they would bring him repeatedly and he would never turn down. They played peek-a-boo, and initiated tickled fights more times than I can count. They held the hand of his little sister while we buried our father.
The arms you put several bullets into held his baby nieces countless times, while he sat studying their faces. They hugged his Mom, and the rest of his family.
His mouth held a smile that could light up a room. It formed words that could comfort me through the worst of times. It always let me know that everything would be alright. It talked with me for hours on the phone, in person, and to talk to his nieces who adored him.
The legs you wounded, they carried him around the track to perform in a sport he loved. They allowed him to crawl through tunnels, skate and dance with his nieces at their birthday parties.
You didn't just leave a body out there. You left a person. A person who was loved so immensely that the hole you left in our lives can never be filled. You've broken the heart of his mother, sister, brother-in-law, nieces and everyone else who truly loved him. You can not take back the damage that you have caused, and I'll never be able to heal it. If they ever find you, I can assure you of one thing, your life will forever be destroyed. You will never sleep soundly. You will be haunted. Your dreams will be so awful that you aren't even safe there. You will live in a hell much like the one you have sentenced me to. I'll be at every hearing, every chance you might have to get free.
You killed my brother, my best friend and you took away my girls' chance of having such an amazing, loving and caring uncle in their lives. You forever changed their future, not just their now. If you ever had a hope of me being the type of person who writes some big long speech about how I forgive you for the awful thing you did, you were mistaken. I don't forgive you. I will never, ever, forgive you. I wish you nothing but misery, and frankly, I don't care if I'm a lesser person for it. I would much prefer you were tortured, and set on fire, and you will have earned and deserved, every single moment.
From the incredibly angry sister of Kobi Walden
Kala
Friday, January 5, 2018
Drowning in the Waves
Kobi,
I am having a really hard time. The past couple weeks have really been emotional. We lost a lady we both loved and admired so very much, then on the 23rd it was her's and Dad's birthday on the same day we celebrated her life, we had your first Christmas Eve and Christmas away from us following that, on the 27th I cried as I remembered losing Dad 13 years ago, 2 days later I did an interview about your case, and then I tried to bring in the new year without completely losing my mind.
The day after Christmas, all of our decorations were put up by 6 pm and out in the garage. I couldn't handle looking at them anymore. I cried as I pulled them all down, thinking of past Christmas's. Then I kicked the side of the box a few times because I was so angry that you weren't able to be here this year. Then on New Years Eve, after the ball dropped and I said good night to my children. I sat on my bathroom floor, and I sobbed until I puked.
Today, today I'm haunted. I'm traumatized by what they/he did to you. I have been replaying it repeatedly in my head. And I can do that because I have your autopsy report memorized, and it isn't because I read it repeatedly. It's because it was so incredibly traumatizing to read, that I know and remember every injury you had. I know where the bullets entered, where they exited(if they did) and I know everything they hit on the way. I remember exactly how you were laying on the autopsy table. I remember everything. I wish I could forget. But that could be worse. Not to know what happened to you. I just wish we could find the only other person in the world who can fill in the blanks for me.
I hate this. I hate all of this. But I love you, so very, very much.
Sis
I am having a really hard time. The past couple weeks have really been emotional. We lost a lady we both loved and admired so very much, then on the 23rd it was her's and Dad's birthday on the same day we celebrated her life, we had your first Christmas Eve and Christmas away from us following that, on the 27th I cried as I remembered losing Dad 13 years ago, 2 days later I did an interview about your case, and then I tried to bring in the new year without completely losing my mind.
The day after Christmas, all of our decorations were put up by 6 pm and out in the garage. I couldn't handle looking at them anymore. I cried as I pulled them all down, thinking of past Christmas's. Then I kicked the side of the box a few times because I was so angry that you weren't able to be here this year. Then on New Years Eve, after the ball dropped and I said good night to my children. I sat on my bathroom floor, and I sobbed until I puked.
Today, today I'm haunted. I'm traumatized by what they/he did to you. I have been replaying it repeatedly in my head. And I can do that because I have your autopsy report memorized, and it isn't because I read it repeatedly. It's because it was so incredibly traumatizing to read, that I know and remember every injury you had. I know where the bullets entered, where they exited(if they did) and I know everything they hit on the way. I remember exactly how you were laying on the autopsy table. I remember everything. I wish I could forget. But that could be worse. Not to know what happened to you. I just wish we could find the only other person in the world who can fill in the blanks for me.
I hate this. I hate all of this. But I love you, so very, very much.
Sis
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