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
