Presence

 Kob,

I finished the last of my assignments today. I have a final on Thursday, and then I'm done. It feels so surreal but I'm also so ready. I'm ready to help people. I'm ready to join my unit. I'm ready to make a difference. After finishing up my assignments, I started crafting. Crafting things that honor your memory so I can bring you into this next phase of my life with me. I'm glad I have them, but I'd rather have you. It doesn't fill the void I have in my heart. It doesn't erase the sadness I feel to be having to go through these milestones without you. Today, it just reminded me of your absence. But I hope on that day, I can feel your presence. 

I can't begin to explain how much I miss you, so I won't even try. There aren't enough words in existence. My heart is hurting so badly today. I wish I could call you, so you could talk me down off my anxiety ledge, and tell me everything is going to be okay. Having a pinning was so incredibly important to me because I know how important it would have been to you. You would have wanted to be there so very badly. This life has been so very unfair to us both, but I'm always grateful it gave me you, even if it means I have to be in all this pain now. 

Your words still echo in my head. You've still helped push me through. I'd be lost without you. 

I love you so much,

Sis

(Almost) Three Years

Kobi,

When you died, I instantly began waiting for something else. Like a plane falling out of the sky onto the house we use to live in, something, anything. I wanted a reason. I needed one. But over time, I began to realize, that no reason would ever be good enough for you to be gone. It wouldn't make sense, no matter how hard I tried to make it.You were gone, and nothing was going to make that okay or acceptable. Nothing. I wanted the end of your life to mean something. I wanted it to have purpose. I wanted for it to have been some kind of sacrifice for the greater good or to protect these girls you loved so very much. I needed it. But I'm not sure that I'll ever get an excuse as to why someone decided to take you away from me. That yearning for answers never goes away, and I'm convinced that it never will.

Every day, I look for memories on my Facebook of you. There is always at least one. It puts a smile on my face, but it also puts a sinking feeling in my stomach. Sometimes I'll look at statuses from my past just to see if you liked it or commented on it. It's always so crazy to me to look at the list of people that liked a status of mine, because it's so unreal to think that on that list of 40 or so people, you're the only one who is gone. It shocks me still and pulls the breath right out of me. Why are you the one who is gone?

It's been almost 3 years. My heart is still so broken. I wish I could love you back to life.

I miss you beyond words.

Love you so much,
Sis

The Life You Missed Out On

Kobi,

I don't really know what to say. I didn't start typing with a purpose like I usually do, but more so because I need to talk to you, and I can't do that. I'm not okay. I know that I'm not okay, but I don't know how to fix it, or even really what's wrong, other than the obvious. I've been struggling with depression, and it's been especially bad this week. I haven't wanted to get off the couch or be awake, and I can cry at any moment. The irony of this is, I feel like what I need to be okay, is to talk to you. But I feel like the fact that I can't talk to you, is exactly why I'm so miserable. You were my anti-depressant, my live journal, my secret keeper, my light in the dark, and there to hold my hand through all the bad. I'm still not use to living without you. I need to call you. I need your pep talk. I need you to tell me how much you love me and that everything is going to be okay. I miss our nightly phone calls more than I can put into words. I never realized how incredibly lonely I would be without them.

I regularly imagine what it would be like to have a conversation with you. No, not my end, although I do wonder how different my life would be had all of this not happened. But I'm more focused on your end. I know you'd tell me you were proud, that you loved me, laugh about the girls, however, I wonder where your life would be. I like to imagine that you are with a man that you love and that loves you so much, and actually treats you right. I think about helping you plan a wedding, listening to you talk about adopting a baby and becoming a Dad, and how thrilled I am to be an Aunt to your child. You are finally in a job that doesn't kill your spirit. You are still skating because it's the best thing you ever did for your mental health, and you are in a house that you've decorated to be way cuter than mine. You still brighten up your nieces every time you come around and they brighten up you too. Your partner has fallen in love with them too and you guys host sleepovers and spoil them. Life is good for you. Life is good for me. I wanted that version of your life for you so badly. You were finally on your way, and then it was taken away from you, and you were taken from us. None of this is fair. You deserved to live.

I don't think I'll ever be okay.

I love and miss you so much.

Sis

Abandonment

Kobi, this isn't to you, but to the woman who birthed our Father.

For years, I've let your decision to walk out of my life define me. I've let it consume me. Let it poison my thoughts. I thought, what kind of horrible human being must I be if my own Grandmother doesn't want to know me, doesn't want to be in my life, doesn't want to see these 4 amazing humans I'm raising. I've let you make me feel unworthy. I've spent many nights crying over your decision. I cried for Kobi, who couldn't understand why you couldn't love him either. All he did was love another human. All he did was give love and be loved, and because it wasn't a gender you had in mind for him, it was worthy of abandonment. It was worth it to you to walk away from him entirely instead of loving him anyway. You missed out on knowing an incredible, sweet, loving human being.

And what exactly did I do? I stood by my brother and up for him, always. I grieved my father when he completed suicide. I struggled to find my footing as a teenage girl without a Dad. I struggled to make sense of your decision to stop loving me. A decision my father would be ashamed of you for. I was a child. I was 13 years old. I had no idea what to do with myself, and yes, I wasn't perfect. I made mistakes. I was trying to make sense of the world around me, of the tragedy around me. I was trying to keep standing on my own two feet that seemed to be giving out from beneath me. So yes, I married a man I shouldn't have, I got pregnant too young, but I made the most out of both situations. I bounced back. I got back up. I found a way to live in a world where you left me, and where my Father had decided to end his life.

But you, you didn't just make mistakes, you made horrible, irreversible decisions. You betrayed my Father by not being there for us. You walked away from 2 good kids who just wanted to be loved. You missed out on knowing us as adults. You will never ever get those moments back. You will never know my children, one of whom looks and acts so much like your child, like my Dad. She's got blonde hair and blue eyes, she's artistic and loving and full of laughter. Dad would have loved every minute of being a grandfather. An opportunity you screwed up at every turn. Kobi would have done anything to be here and still be involved in these girls' lives, in my life, and you had the opportunity and chose not to take it.

Kobi always hoped that one day we would reconcile with you. He kept that hope in his heart until the day he died. I know that. So when I called you and told you he was killed, and you told me that you couldn't come to his funeral because funerals were too hard for you now. I was devastated. Because Kobi would have wanted you there. I tried to be understanding and give you the benefit of the doubt, because funerals were hard for me too. But apparently, funerals were not too hard for you to come to another family members services this week. You are an unworthy human being. You don't deserve my love, and I don't deserve to feel worthless anymore. That was the absolute final straw for me, and that's saying a lot considering I let you hurt me for years.

I look at my 4 beautiful children all the time, and I imagine watching them become parents one day, and thinking about being a Grandmother, I cannot ever imagine abandoning them the way that you did us. Especially if I lost their mother. I would hang on to them like it was all I had left of my child, because it would be. I'm done trying to understand you and your decisions, because the fact is, there are no valid reasons for the choices you made, just excuses for your inability to have a heart.

You don't know who I am. And I'm sure that this post will make me seem like a horrible human being, I assure you, I'm not. I love everyone with my whole heart. Being loving and caring is what has made this entire situation so very difficult for me. But when you've been hurt repeatedly by someone, eventually you have to say enough is enough.

I'm a good person. I married an amazing man who has been by my side through all of my heartache and never backs down. I have 4 beautiful little girls who are getting so big, kind and smart. I'm building a career and together my husband and I have built a pretty great life. I love rock music and play instruments. I'm crafty and artistic. I give and give until I have nothing left. I am my father's daughter, through and through. And while you may not be proud of me, I know he is. I know my real grandparents who stood by me until their dying breath are proud of me. Kobi and my Mom are proud of me. And I'm proud of me. Because not many people can go through all that I've been through, and still love as much as I do.

Kobi deserved more than you gave him. He deserved your time, your love, your understanding. He was an honest, loving soul that deserved more than to be shot and left for dead. He deserved for you to be there for his family during that awful time. He deserved your attention during those worst possible moments. I deserved that too.

I'm done letting you define me. I'm done hoping you'll call me. I'm done hoping for you to come around. Because the fact is, I could never forgive you for all that you've done anyway. I will always love you, because my love is not something I can shut off like you can, but I will no longer hope for reconciliation. Instead, I'll hope for my heart to heal.

Traditions

Kobi,
Do you remember how incredible it was to be a part of our family during the holidays? It always felt truly magical in our home. For Thanksgiving, we would either go to Tennessee and be with our Grandparents there, or we'd stay home, have tacos, and then go to visit Grandma and Pepa. Christmas was always our favorite though. While putting up the Christmas tree we'd listen to Christmas music, our parents bicker about putting the lights on the tree, and then we'd spend the evening as a family decorating.

We had Grandparent's day with Grandma and Pepa, where we'd decorate their garage, play games and spend time with them before having their family party the following weekend. Their family Christmas was always a blast. I remember us always wondering if it was too early to bug them about rather or not we could open presents yet, and sometimes they'd let us cheat and open one a little early.

When Mom and Dad would go Christmas shopping, they'd leave me alone with you, and we'd spend an entire evening playing Mario or watching Star Wars together. Then they'd make us hide out in the bathroom as they brought presents in and think about all the things we might have gotten.

Christmas Eve we'd start the day at Mema's house with Dad's side of the family, then we'd end it at the Phi Delt's with Grandma and Grandpa. I remember getting so tired out there that'd I'd fall asleep on a pile of coats. We'd come home, read T'was the Night Before Christmas, set our stuff out for Santa and I'd get to sleep up in your bedroom. Every 5 minutes of silence I'd ask you if you were still awake and then we'd get started in on another conversation until we just couldn't keep our eyes open anymore.

Christmas morning, Dad couldn't contain himself any longer and he'd wake us up at like 5 am to open presents. He loved seeing our faces when we opened up exactly what we asked for. We'd roll our eyes as soon as we heard that Elvis Christmas tape come on the stereo. We had Tacos for dinner too, since it's one of the few things you actually liked. Mom and Dad would spend the afternoon cooking together in the kitchen while we played with all of our new stuff. And on the Christmas's where we got gaming counsels, we'd play those as a family after we all ate.

After Dad died, things were never the same. A lot of our family fell away. We stopped seeing Mema and Poppy as much. As Pepa's health deteriorated, family Christmas's stopped there too. Shortly after, we grew up, and Christmas didn't become fun again until Abby came along. You loved spoiling your nieces. You'd come on Christmas Eve and help us move the presents out to the tree and do all of our Santa responsibilities. And on Christmas morning, I was the one waking everyone up. Excited to see my own kids' faces lighting up as they opened up their gifts. You always wanted to take a video as they walked out into the living room and saw the massive pile of presents. You helped put together all the toys and take them out of the boxes. We didn't have tacos, but I did make sure I had mashed potatoes and Mac and cheese for you every year. We'd also always visit Grandma on Christmas Day. You've always been my favorite part about Christmas. Having you home, under the same roof as my husband and my girls, it was the most peaceful feeling I ever remember having. Home is where the heart is, and you guys were my home and my heart. It always felt like something was missing when you weren't home. It still does.

Since you've been gone, we've struggled with ways to take back Christmas again. Mom lives in Florida, you're gone, Grandma is gone. The first one I stuck to all the things we would have done if you had still been there and Mom was there. It was a very difficult day to get through. The second one, was just our little family, and we had a visit from Lisa, so she could help put together toys for the girls, something you would have done. Then we decided to make home made pizzas as a new tradition. The girls got to pick their own toppings and I had hoped it would add a little more fun to their day.

This year, due to the large amount of junk our children have, we decided to switch it up. We decided to spend our Christmas at Great Wolf Lodge, buy the girls less things, and make it focused more on spending time together as a family. 3 whole days, just the 6 of us, having a good time, away from all the sadness and darkness that Christmas often brings for us. I don't know if you'd approve, but I think at this point, you'd want me to do anything to keep getting myself through this. I wish Mom would come home. I wish Grandma and Pepa could be here, and Mema and Poppy. Most of all, I wish you could be here.

You'll always be my favorite part about Christmas. I trust that even though you're physically gone, your spirit will be with us on Christmas. Maybe, I can have a little bit of that peace it use to bring me when you were alive. Send me a sign.

I love and miss you always.

Sis

Pride

Kobi,

I've always been proud of you. From the very beginning. When someone would say, "Are you Kobi Walden's sister?" I would smile big and reply, "Yes." You were a good person from the beginning of your life. You helped neighbors, friends, and always, me. You were smart. You were in the gifted program at school, a talented percussionist, quiz bowl, academic teams, honors society, you name it, you did it. You were amazing, at anything and everything you did. You made me proud in your adulthood, going through promotions and salaries at your job with ease, being an amazing Uncle, friend, and more. I never thought it was possible though, for you to make me proud even though you weren't on this side of things, and yet, you do.

You made me proud in the immediate aftermath of your murder, for the outpouring of love and support, that spoke immensely to your character.

I was proud when I was going through your things. I found little trinkets from the years of our lives together. Things I made you when we were small that you kept for years. Things that the girls made you. Tickets from concerts we attended together. Movie ticket stubs. Pennies from years of going to the zoo together. You cherished our relationship and put your family first always. I was proud to see your heart in these trinkets and souvenirs.

As devastating as it was, I was even proud when I read your autopsy report. You fought hard to stay here with us. And even though I knew better, people online and even people surrounding your case insinuated that we might want to prepare ourselves for information we might not have known. And yet again, you made me proud to read that just like I knew, you had no drugs or alcohol in your system what so ever. That was never who you were.

And today, like many of the times the Roller Derby Community has honored you, I was damn proud to be your sister. 2 and 1/2 years later, and people still think you are worth mentioning, they think you are worth remembering. If you had been a different person, lesser of a person than who you were, I don't believe that would be the case. But look at all these people who respect your memory, and honor you regularly. It speaks volumes about who you were when you were alive, and I couldn't be more proud to be your sister.

I love you Kobi Lee Walden. I miss you immensely.

Always and forever,
Your little sister

The Monsters Under My Bed

Kobi,

I just want to sleep. Sleep all day. Sleep 12 hours a day. Sleep a full 8 hours....without a single nightmare. I want and need sleep. Real sleep. The kind I use to have before all of this. I never feel rested. The nightmares are always there, and it makes it difficult to start my day off on a positive note. Last night was just about the same as always. I'm standing in front of your apartment building, I watch you get out of your car, and every single second of that night unfolds in front of my eyes, at least, everything I've learned about what happened that night. I stand there screaming in the parking lot, no one can hear me, and I can't move. I can only move once you're dead. And there I am standing there over you, crying, unable to breathe. And then I wake up. My heart is racing, and I feel even more exhausted than when I went to sleep. It doesn't matter what kind of day I'm having, I always know that when I go upstairs, and lay down in my bed, the monsters will still be there poking at me, and taunting me.

School has been a good distraction for me during the day, however, it doesn't make it go away. I'm still trying. It just always seems like 2 steps forward and 3 steps back. Things are going pretty well, but the struggle to stay motivated and keep pushing through is definitely there. I keep hoping to wake up one day and hurt so much less than this. But for now...

I'm going to keep going to bed every night, like the monsters aren't there and like I get to talk to you at the end of my day.

All for you #47.

Love you always, best friend.

Sis

June 1st

Bubby,

When I woke up on June 1st, I looked at my watch, and for a brief moment, I breathed a sigh of relief. It isn't May anymore. It isn't the month you died, and my world unraveled, or the month where we always spent time together celebrating my birthday. It's over. Maybe, just maybe I can breathe. But then I saw that it was the 1st, 25 months since you had been gone. There was the weight on my chest again. However, I realized something, as I sat in the bathroom at my friends house, replaying your final moments in my head, as I do every first day of the month around 10 pm; it doesn't matter what day or what month it is. I'm never going to miss you any less. I'm never going to love you any less. This is never going to get any easier.

Wait a minute. repeat that.

I'm never going to miss you any less. I'm never going to love you any less. This is never going to get any easier. 

Partly, it made me want to throw myself off a very tall building, and also, in a weird way, it was almost comforting, like realizing you have to live without a limb, or with a weight around your ankles. This depression, sadness, this longing and aching, they are apart of who I am now. It's not going to go away. It's always going to be there. You are always going to be there, right in my heart, in my mind, in every inch of my soul. There you are. It's almost like I can pick out the pieces of myself that you helped to create, and the pieces that are permanently damaged from your loss.

I'm trying to find the joy. I'm trying to breathe deep. I'm trying, Kobi. I don't care how crazy or stuck people still believe that I am. Being without you is impossibly hard to cope with.

I love you, to the moon and back, and the sun and back, and I always will. 💚

Sis

10 Things I Learned When You Were Murdered

1. The world is both a terrible and wonderful place.  When I lost you, I hated the world and everyone in it. I didn't want to raise my children in a horrible place that kills kind, loving people for no reason at all. I didn't want to talk to anyone, because everyone seemed to be obsessed with murder documentaries and serial killers. How could you be obsessed with someone that destroyed someone's life? How could you be okay with that? I felt hatred like I've never felt before, but in the darkness of it all, I also felt loved. The large amount of people who reached out to me and helped to support my family during such a terrible time was so overwhelmingly wonderful. We barely paid anything for your funeral or to have your body moved. The donations from people who loved you paid for that for us. I've never been so grateful in my entire life as I was when people supported me because they loved you. It also made me grateful to you, for being so lovable and creating such an amazing community for me in your absence. Thank you.

2. The grief felt from a murder, is unlike any grief you've ever known. Before you were killed, we had felt grief. We had lost most of our family members. Losing Dad to suicide when I was 13 almost killed me. I couldn't function normally for a very long time. The depression, anger, frustration and abandonment I felt during that time in my life was paralyzing. It was a very hopeless feeling. But losing you at the hands of someone else, that was a whole new sea of emotions. How could someone hate you enough to kill you? Better yet, how could someone who didn't even know you kill you? How does any of this happen? You go through a lot when the death isn't natural or accidental, too. Identifying your body, going through a list of suspects, becoming a detective yourself, having evidence taken from your loved ones home, getting that evidence back almost a year later, getting tips and comments on their death and trying to deal with those without losing your freaking mind. There's been so much to your passing that it would take me hours to even get into it all, and tonight, I don't have it in me.

3. Grieving as a parent is so incredibly hard. You don't get to be crazy. You don't get to lay in bed for days on end and sleep the pain away, not that the nightmares would let that happen anyway. You can cry in your bathroom for 5 minutes before your kids come pounding on the door. Then you wipe the tears off your face, take a deep breath, and you open that door like you didn't just silently scream into your arm in pain. You quickly leave the store when your PTSD panic attack hits and just tell your kids, "Mommy's not feeling well." You just hope you don't break your kids any more than losing their loving and involved uncle already broke them.

4. Losing your best friend and loved one, can make you want to die too. The day you died it wasn't a matter of if I wanted to live, it was a matter of when I was going to end my suffering. I didn't want to live without you. I didn't want to be alone. Living without you didn't feel like living at all. It felt like someone was stabbing me in the heart over and over again. I sat on my bathroom floor many nights wallowing in pain and crying hysterically. It felt like I'd never get off of that floor and that everyone would be better off if I was gone too. It wasn't until my girls came into my bedroom one night, crying hard, and missing you, that I realized losing their mother would be putting them in even more pain, and I wouldn't be here to hold them and love them through it. I decided to live for them, and for you. The last thing on this entire planet that you would have wanted, was for me to die because you did.

5. Sometimes, you have to take life a single moment at a time. "Do you think you can handle this for 10 more seconds? I learned a long time ago that a person can handle just about anything for 10 seconds, then you just start on a new 10 seconds. All you have to do is take it 10 seconds at a time." Thinking about my future was painful, it still is. You won't be at this event or around to see the kids grow up. There's so many things in our future that you will miss. Sometimes I lose myself in the future and the very long list of things you will be missing, but I have to tell myself to break away from that. What am I  doing right at this moment? What do I need to do in the next 10 seconds? I have learned to focus more on now than later. Now still sucks too, believe me, but it's a small moment in time and not the entire span of the rest of our lives. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10....

6. Life can turn you into someone you don't recognize. Before you died, I use to laugh a lot more. Despite all the things we went through together, I had you, and that made me feel so much better. I didn't need those family members who abandoned us and never looked back. I didn't need to carry around the burden of losing Dad on my own, because you shared that burden too. I had you, and you had me, and that was good enough for us both. I smile less. I laugh less. I talk less. Everything is so much less with out you. I don't know who I am anymore. You made up so much of my life, so much of me, that without you, I don't even know how to be me. I don't remember a time before now when I didn't run all of my major decisions in my life by you. You've helped me choose every path I've taken in life. I don't know what path to walk without you, and right now, it feels more like a haunted roller coaster ride that I just want off of.

7. When you're angry, it spills out and into everything. I find myself getting angry a lot lately. Sometimes it comes out when I bang my fists on the steering wheel and scream, and other times, it comes out in my attitude when talking to others. It isn't something that I plan, or that is intentional. Somedays, I'm so furious. I'm mad that my only sibling is gone. I'm mad that you were murdered. I'm mad that you were scared. I'm mad that our family had to go through all of that. I'm just mad. There's only so much that I can do to try to keep my emotions in check. Somedays I'm pretty good at it, others, I suck miserably. I'm doing my best.

8. Grief is not linear. The highs and lows that come with grief are so incredibly devastating. Some of the most bittersweet moments in my life are moments where the girls are participating in something or succeeding and being recognized. I am always painfully reminded that you're not here to see it. There are days where I can push most of it to the back of my mind and I can smile, and have tickle fights with them. Then, there are days where I can't push past any of it. I can't even open my eyes without thinking of you and how much I miss you. It brings me to my knees some days, literally. It doesn't matter how far out we get, it doesn't hurt any less.

9. I am NOT required to forgive anyone. I've had a lot of people ask me about forgiveness, a question no one has a right to ask me. Here is my answer: No! Absolutely not! I don't forgive anyone who put you in that situation, who pulled the trigger, or the people who were suppose to help bring your murderer to justice and dropped the ball on several occasions or refused to speak to the authorities.  I don't forgive any of them and I never will. They can call me a lesser person for that, but you deserve better. You deserve our outrage because you deserved to live. I don't believe the crap that everyone says about how it's going to make me feel better to "let it go" or "offer forgiveness." I won't feel better. It's a decision that only I get to make for myself, and I've chosen to place anger and blame exactly where it belongs. I think that's healthier than saying I forgive someone, that let's face it, I could never forgive.

10. I didn't know how strong I was, until being strong was my only choice. I use to think that was just a silly quote that I would see on people's statuses. It is SO much more than that now. In the 48 hours following the first phone call that I received alerting me to your absence from work, I fielded just shy of 90 phone calls. NINETY! I lost my best friend and dealt with NINETY phone calls in 48 hours. Phone calls with family, coroners office, IMPD, the crime lab, your personal detective, animal shelter, funeral home, flower shop, news channels, victim advocate representatives, and several others. I made more trips to Indy in a few days than I can even count. Gathering clothes, identifying your body, dealing with the detective, attending events held in your honor, handling your apartment, writing your eulogy and your obituary, and the many other tasks I took on while you were lying on a metal table, getting ready to be put into the ground. I don't know how I did it to this day. Especially when I didn't even know how I was going to put one foot in front of the other. The only thing I can think of is, I did it all for you. I found strength where I didn't think I had any, because in the worst moment of my life, that's what you needed from me. And we both know, I'd do anything for you.

Who am I?

Kobi,

Up until a little under 2 years ago, you were an every day occurrence in my life. You were the phone call I'd receive at midnight because your life had taken an unexpected turn again, and you needed to talk. You were the hand I held at numerous funerals and pivotal moments in my life, reassuring me that I was okay, because I had you. You were the voice on the other end of a phone call at 2 am when anxiety reared it's ugly head and I suddenly couldn't breathe. You were everywhere, all the time. You were everything.

So I suppose it comes as no surprise that I'm struggling to figure out who I am exactly now that you are gone. How much of you was me, and me, you? I know that you defined me to a pretty big degree. I think I always knew that. Our lives were so intertwined, and so many of our thoughts were the same. I think I spend more time wondering who you would be at this very moment. But to some extent, who I am and who you would be go hand in hand, right? Would you have these same feelings about this situation? Would you like this song too? I just don't know anything anymore. Who in the hell am I without you?

I told you I wouldn't let this all change me, that you would still be able to recognize the sister that you left behind. But I don't think that's true anymore. I feel guilty about it, but then again, how could I be the same person? People use to describe me as bubbly, and I don't hear that anymore. I don't see it in myself either. I smile less, I laugh less. For the most part, I'm pretty quiet. I'm quiet at work, I'm quiet at school, I'm usually quiet at home, I'm quiet. I know why I'm quiet, too. It's because periodically through out the day, I get lost in my memories of you. I get lost in the sadness of losing you, and how we lost you. I get lost in the walking through of your final moments step by step, trying to make sense of it all. I use to feel a little sparkly, glittery, giggly, like just maybe there was something about me that made me different from other people. I don't feel that anymore. I've lost my spark. I don't know how to get it back, or if I even want to.

I feel like an empty container of toothpaste. Your murder just squeezed and squeezed all the life out of me until all that was left was an empty shell. Sometimes I feel nothingness, worthless. I feel like I'm absolutely nothing to remember anymore. I'm just the girl who talks about how sad she is that her brother is dead, and right now, I don't have any desire to be anything more than that.

Saying I miss you feels hollow, because it seems too simple to describe how badly I wish you were still alive. I feel so incredibly broken and sad without you, that even the simplest day to day activities take everything in me to accomplish. You were the best big brother and best, best friend a girl could have. I love you more than you'll ever know.

-K 

Hard Times

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

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

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

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.

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. 💗

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

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. 

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

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