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

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