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. 💗