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Case Closed

Those were the words from the detective last week. Autopsy is in and the case is closed. Sixteen years and three months, and the case is closed.

I'm angry and have been since last week. I'm angry at Catherine and the whole situation. I'm angry that she is gone. I'm angry that I'm barely keeping my head above water to deal with the aftermath. I'm angry that I don't hear her walking around at night. I'm angry at all of it. But the case is closed.

Here is the problem. This case will never be closed. Maybe for the detective, but not for anyone else. Because for the rest of my life, I will be dealing with this. The town of Lebanon will never let the case be closed. Every time a teenager dies, my daughter will be drug into it. The case will never be closed. Our wounds will start to heal and then something will happen to open them back up again. But again, the case is closed.

My level of anger is hard to describe. I'm following the rule of not making any major decisions (including dealing with her stuff and her room) for at least a year. This is likely a good thing. My anger was so bad this weekend that every time I found something of hers, I walked up to her room, opened the door, threw whatever the item was across the room so it hit the wall, and then slammed the door. Part of me wanted to throw everything in her room out of the window and into a dumpster. If she is hanging around, she knows I'm pissed.

On Friday we went to the Kid Rock concert. The opening act for the opening act was a cute trio of young women with beautiful voices. Did you read the part about it being a Kid Rock concert?? So explain to me why in the world these women would sing the most beautiful and haunting version of "You are my sunshine?" I walked out. But I could still hear. When I first started playing the flute, my paternal grandfather told me I could be just like Jethro Tull or Marshall Tucker Band. They could hook an amp up to my flute and I could be a rock star. That has stuck with me for 25 years. So explain to me why Kid Rock decided to play "Can't you see" by the Marshall Tucker Band? Catherine knew I was pissed and I suspect she and my grandfather decided to gang up on me. Message received but I'm still mad as hell.

In the beginning days after her death, everyone said I needed a Ouiser (Weezer). Someone to take a whack at when I got to the angry part. In Steel Magnolias, Sally Field had her "take a whack at Ouiser" moment at the graveyard. Here we are 5 months later and I'm ready to take a whack at something. I'm ready to have my Sally Field moment and be so pissed that I could hit something. I can tell you that I'm pretty much there.

I can't remember a time in my life that I was ever this angry. It just isn't who I am. I'm the one with the Pollyanna outlook. I pray this is just another stage or season in my grief. But until it passes, I'm going to step away from this blog. I don't want my anger to seep into your lives.

I'm staying busy these days with crafting and sewing. I've decided that I need a space of my own. A space that I can go to and craft and get back into all the artsy things I used to do. The plan is to put a shed in the backyard this spring/summer and finish it out. So until then, I'm going to start selling the stuff I make. It will be random and whatever strikes my mood. Maybe I will make money to go towards my shed or maybe it will be a bust. But for now, it is the best therapy I have in my toolbox.

I will be back. Hopefully sooner than later. Keep praying for my family. Especially my boys. They are not in a good place. One is in therapy multiple times a week and another one is in martial arts with therapy mixed in there. Both are grieving hard, each in their own way. Pray for Josh and I to have the guidance to get them through. If you happen to see them around town, give them a hug or a few words of encouragement.


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