It seems impossible to even write this. It has been nearly 9 months since my youngest child was killed. She was with me and then she wasn't. I could hold her and then I could not. I can still see her face and hear her voice in my mind... but they are only snippets. Like short dreams right before you wake. The long conversations are now a whisper. The conversations I have with her now are one sided and silly. "Where are you now", "Are you okay", "Did you suffer as you lay on the road, hopelessly tangled in your bicycle?"
It doesn't do any good to think these kinds of thoughts. The darkness only overcomes you eventually and you have to come back to the present. To the only reality that now exists. She is gone. You are here and she is not. Why?
I struggle to find a way to feel her presence. To once again enter into her world. We would talk about everything. Her racing career, her love of double mint chocolate cookies, her disdain for all things phony. I want to be like her and even more than this, I think I sometimes I want to be her. She is the one who should be here -- not me. Kristy was only 30 years old when she was killed by a man in a car who said he thought he might have fallen asleep. She was on a bicycle training for the Olympic trials. He was a deputy sheriff patrolling the roads in Cupertino California.
Why am I doing this blog? I'm not really sure. A friend of mine suggested I try it in order to explain the half marathon I am currently training to run in February 2009. Running was never something I identified with. Like my friend Joyce says, "I ain't running unless someone with a knife is chasing me!" I started running the same place Kristy would run in order to feel close to her. I wear her gloves and hat and even her jacket and leggings. Sadly, her shoes are too small.
I've been running nearly every day for the past 6 months. Each run is like a respite. There are no break downs. No tears. And best of all, my mind gets into this kind of "mode". As time goes on I am going to try and describe this more.
I'm not a runner - just a mom trying to deal with the death of her daughter. Kristy was a multi-talented woman and a professional athlete. Running helps me to feel her presence. And it offers a little peace. - Kristy's mom
For anyone who reads this comment, I am a friend of Karen and have read every post to this blog through the fall of 2009. Whether you have suffered a similar loss of a loved one, want to know more about Kristy, or simply are sensitive to this circumstance in their lives, these posts are enriching and deepening.
ReplyDelete