Saturday, February 01, 2003
ThoughtCafe - Afterlife, Prelife, Everlife
As of today, I am planning to title the book i hope to publish An Amateur Mourning Map for Mothers of the Recently Murdered, [subtitle A Book of Bereavement] which is also the title of a poem written not long after Bekah's death. I've let the book sit for a few months and now i think it's time to see about completing it, cleaning it up, getting it to where a publisher might be willing to print it. The following is the first chapter and is a letter i wrote to Bekah just a little over a month after she died.
Comments are more than welcome. Thank you
Afterlife, Prelife, Everlife
"Give Sorrow Words; the grief that does not speak
Whispers the o'er fraught heart and bids it break."
8-22-01 5:15 am
Hi Bekah, I’ve been up for 45 minutes or so – got a good sleep. Guess my body is preparing for tomorrow – when I return to the office. I don’t want to. But I will – Rory needs for me to do that. Be with me often sweetie. amen
I’ve been, not for the first time, writing my statement. Just in my head. I will turn the pain and bitterness toward its rightful owner and drive it into her as eloquently as I am able. I will not forgive her – certainly not to her face. But I will give her the means to earn that forgiveness – by doing her time. No appeal. She is a murderer; she needs to go away. If she doesn’t go away she will likely kill again – that she never killed before I believe is only because the opportunity never presented itself.
(I’m not going to wail Why did her opportunity mean BEKAH! not going to torment myself with why today)
I will tell her that she exemplifies my belief that bitterness allowed infects one from the inside. That hers turned her into a mentally ill, severely alcoholic, murderer. That she saw you – A beautiful 21-year-old woman – standing at the threshold of a happy, fulfilled life, and she could not stand it. She killed you and she MEANT to kill you. Whether she ever admits it out loud or not. That the depravity of her actions before and after my daughter’s murder prove the truth of this claim.
She drove out of her lane on a straight, flat, well-lit stretch of road to kill a young innocent woman who should NOT be dead. Then drove home over dark and winding roads without incident and went to bed. She never stopped. Never tried to stop. Thought she got away with it. Pled INNOCENT when it is abundantly, overwhelmingly clear that she is guilty of murder. Bailed out of jail and has been FREE while Bekah has continued to be dead.
Dead is forever. Bekah’s loved ones will struggle with not only the finality of her death for years to come. They are and will continue to be shocked, horrified and grieved at the injustice of her death. At the violence of her death. At the gruesome bloodiness of her death.
You left my daughter’s BRAINS in the street. How could you keep driving? How could you sleep? How do you now?
I do not sleep much, or well. That is because I miss my daughter so desperately it is nearly unbearable. It cannot be described – I am utterly helpless to bring her back.
And then, to get out of jail. To do all of this to avoid going to prison. If you had driven away from Bekah’s broken and bleeding body that night and kept going off a cliff into the ocean I might believe that you did not mean to kill her. But you didn’t. You are a coward as well as a murderer. You need to go away.
Okay that’s a start. Bek, between you and me and the wee hours’ darkness slowly turning to light, I believe I have come far since July 19. Learned much; expressed it fairly well. I really want to put it together honey – I read the boards every day, and I can see that many victims’ mothers are in danger of being consumed by their bitterness and hatred. What I have learned and expressed may help them move beyond that.
It may sound as if I think I have achieved recovery or closure. But that is not even what it is. I have only achieved acceptance of the fact that I am in a terrible place, through which I must travel if I do not want to stay here for the rest of my life.
What I haven’t achieved is a clear view of how long I must stay here, how long the dark road is. How strong my psyche’s legs are to carry me through all in one piece.
That is where the hardship – “all in one piece.” How can I be when my heart has been ground up, run over, killed, and left in the road all alone? Bekah. You are my heart, you were my heart, how can it be? I want you so goddam hard I just do.
I am still waiting to see you. I’m calmer. When you do come I will take it as a sign that I am that much calmer still. You know best. Though I remain somewhat baffled as to exactly why I cannot see you NOW while my desire is so nearly desperate? Isn’t it NOW that I need you?
The vagaries of life, death, love and motherhood/daughterhood still largely mysterious. You grew from a microscopic zygote to a human infant inside my body. For eight months you thrived on my milk. For fourteen years you were raised in my home. We were apart when my life exploded. Christ I missed you so constantly and desperately Bekah – I know I told you I did. Did you ever appreciate how true it was? Now I must miss you even more desperately for all of the rest of my life.
Not fair. And my loss is just a fraction of yours. Is there mourning over there? It is imparted by psychic mediums that you are in a place of luscious serenity. That moviemaker Andy’s into says dead people spend most of their time watching live people. It seems you must also miss us. Therefore your murder means you have lost so many people.
You loved much Bekah. From Grandma Blanche to Grandma Marie to me to you, to end when you are only 21. Aunt Carolyn, Michelle, her three daughters, insure that our feminine lineage continues. It’s not the same to me, but maybe to Grandmas Blanche and Marie it works. It is at any rate a heritage of love, a family fortune of love that has made us rich and kept us strong for generations. “May the circle, be unbroken…”
No. The circle is broken. You are murdered. Destiny is interrupted. Fate took a wrong turn. A generation, your children, are denied. We want to find the means to rectify…in my skin with all my faults I seek knowledge of the afterlife, the prelife, the everlife. I can surmise. Can I dare to believe? or bear not to…I have to wait to find out, to really be with you. In the meantime baby help me be strong, to keep Rory happy, to help Andy get there too.
My one and only daughter Bekah – I cannot express! – how much I love you. amen
© barbara bales, 2003, All Rights Reserved.
Who am i, what am i
A picture's worth
I stand on the sand, and I'm rocking grief to sleep in my arms.
Comments by: YACCS