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