Sunday, July 20, 2003
the first poem i wrote after bekah was killed.
Rebekah-Marie Bales Zask, 7/6/80 - 7/19/01
7/26/01 4:35:25 AM
I imagine her spirit drifting through the night,
And when I told my sister of the strength I gain
From knowing she was happy when she died,
The chills came on me
I imagined they were her, trying to hug me.
I imagine her flitting
The way butterflies do, but a spirit,
Like a long low string of a cloud,
As she goes here, there, all through this
Heartless megalopolis, to tell us all
That she knows, she cares, she loves still.
Though she is much too still, so
Robbed of her body, so rudely,
Killed. Killed is not the same
As merely dead.
i'm a day late commemorating the second anniversary of my daughter's murder. i was traveling until well after dark yesterday. on the plane from albuquerque to phoenix - the smallest plane i've been in - i was astounded by the clouds and the way they stopped all evenly at the bottom...we were flying parallel to the bottom of the clouds for some time. i was so taken out by the sight i asked my neighbor if it was an optical illusion; he said no. when i pointed out the above-noted phenomenom, he said, "yeah. isn't it wild?"
yeah it was wild. in spite of myself i remembered too well the trip to WA in Feb 2002, three days after bekah's murderer was sentenced to only four years [she'll be out next february]. i leaned my head against the window as i did on that flight and silently wept, remembering that flight and wishing i could see her as clearly now as i did then, and prayed to bekah all love and spirit, yes.
yes, i prayed, yes. amen
some of bekah's 23rd birthday balloons...
on the way to the airport in albuquerque from taos today, my friend's daughter looked at the sky and saw a turtle. i said, "she does that," and was glad i had my sunglasses on. tomorrow - today, the 20th - is the 3rd anniversary of her big brother's murder. He was 17 on 07-20-00, one year minus one day before bekah was killed. his little sister is ten now; she was born on his tenth birthday, but got to share only seven with him before he was killed.
i tried to blog this before and the cyber bogie man took the post. over the past five to ten years, i might hear from/talk to my former co-worker/friend M, who moved back to his hometown of taos, NM, about that long ago, once or twice a year, maybe less. in february, 2001, i ran across his phone number and on a whim dialed it, only to learn that he had lost his youngest son the previous july. murdered. a few months later, may 2001, i spoke at length with him, learning the details of his son's murder [a double murder, a 26-year-old cousin having been shot when he ran to save his young cousin]. what i recall saying to try and comfort him:
"i know i can't say that i know how you feel, M., but i am just so, so sorry...i am so thankful that all of my children are alive and healthy..."
about two months later, i called him yet again and said, "i had to call you because now i can say that i know how you feel, and you're the only person i know who knows how i feel." he was planning to attend the one year memorial for his son and son's cousin when we spoke that day, the day after bekah was murdered, one year minus one day after his son was murdered.
yesterday i stopped in a flower shop in taos to buy flowers to take to the two boys' graves. the woman who helped me asked me about who, why, etc, and i told her the story, including that my daughter was subsequently murdered on july 19...she turned around looking like a stricken deer in approaching headlights and said, "my sons were born on july 19 and 20." there goes one of those rhymes again...we ascertained that the years were not the same, and let it go at that.
sunset in taos, NM
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