Your beautiful song

So Kaitlyn, here I am. I’ve had all your pictures put on my hard drive from your Facebook, sent them to Walmart and had prints made of them. I took select ones and made a video slide set to music of a singer you liked. I finally put your suicide note into a decorative box back in your old room (where I still take it out often to read). I’ve bought a very pretty decorative box and put all the many, many sympathy cards I received and put in there, along with the laminated article I wrote that was so graciously made for me by Collier’s Jewelers, just because they were so sorry for my loss. I’ve put all the picture prints in a little picture album. Everything that I got from your apartment has been properly dispersed, either to your sister, and to some friends, and so many things I kept myself. I kept some select clothes myself, but since I gave the rest of your clothes away, I have this horrible regret in my soul that I should have kept at least one pair of your jeans, and the boots I last saw you in that I complemented you on. Oh how I wish I had kept them. But I did keep a few of your blouses, 2 Lab jackets, the new blazer that you bought while I was with you, (I never could find the rest of your new things, I probably didn’t recognize them in the horrible haze I was in in going through your things). And I have that basket of unwashed clothes that will never see laundry detergent or water. But I wish with all my heart, I would have kept a pair of jeans and those boots. I kept everything I possibly could and they are all over my house and are mostly put to use or at least put in a place where they can be admired. I’ve not used the spices in your nice spice rack yet (I was with you when you bought it at Bed, Bath, and Beyond). What am I going to do with spices? The only spices I throw into anything is salt and pepper, your daddy is more the kind of cook that would make something special enough to put spices in it. You got all your talents all on your own. I’ve not used the toaster yet, but I will. A nice toaster it is. I keep saying I’m going to drink one of those bottles of wine you had in the wine rack, but I never do, I don’t drink, but I still think one day I will drink some. I have your very pretty metal green tea kettle and it is beautiful. I’ve not drank any hot tea since I was with you. I have your wooden box that says “tea” on it with a few tea bags still left in it. All the pictures I want out are beautifully framed and around our house like the two you had of me and you together, one of you lying on the couch with that beautiful, happy smile, it’s in my living room on my table. Your HUGE case of DVDs sits on the floor next to my couch and we watch lots of your movies. Last night we watched Stardust. I had never seen it before and liked it.

I’ve printed out all the messages of all the nice friends you’ve had over the years telling me they were horrified to hear of your loss and what a wonderful person you were and how much of a difference you made in their lives. I’ve put them all in a notebook. I’ve also printed all my blog posts and put them in a notebook.

The only thing that is left to be done is when your beautiful tombstone finally arrives and your grave will have the beauty it deserves. Yesterday, in the rain, I went to your grave and am glad I did for the flowers had been knocked over from the storm we had and the picture of you and I turned over (I know this picture will not last long in the weather, or the frame that it’s in, but there’s more frames to be had and more pics I can print, I want it there). It’s the pic of me and you standing in your bedroom, standing close together.

I’ve typed enough about you that it can fill up a library I think. You were such a special person, that there was so much to write and my grief is so deep that it cannot be adequately written about.

So now here I am Kaitlyn, all the things that kept my mind occupied with preserving as much of your memory as I can, that was so therapeutic for me, is done. All I have now is time to sit in misery and wonder how it could be possible to lose you and how it could be possible to lose you the way I did. The hurt and confusion and devastation that you left are like the destruction of a tornado, so complete, so final. Yes things can be rebuilt, but they never will be the same. But for me, my soul will be forever like the house that was demolished from the tornado and never rebuilt, because there are no materials in the world that can replace what was there, no materials good enough, no materials that can compare, so the lot remains empty.

Kaitlyn, I know your sadness must have been so completely devastating for you to leave this world knowing what you would leave behind; the torment you’ve left in all the souls that loved you, leaving all of us twirling around trying to put the pieces of our lives together without you in it. It’s just that I still can’t imagine a life without you in it. I know you must have been in a very dark place to leave your promising life right there in the middle of everything, like the song says, you left right in the middle of your song, your beautiful, beautiful song.

Me & Kaitlyn

About gatito2

My name is Rhonda. I'm a registered nurse, for the last 20 years, that has not been able to work since the day I learned of my daughter's death by suicide 4-12-13. (She actually died 4-11-13 and her body was not found until the 12th) Me and my husband have been married for 32 years and he's a wonderful man. We grieve in different ways. He works, I write. This is my journey through this horrible land of losing a child..
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