A Crappy Week

The past few days have been difficult. On Tuesday (or maybe Monday – I can’t remember) I talked to the DA’s office. Not the actual DA though - one of the Victim’s Assistance reps. They confirmed that the case has finally arrived in the DA’s office and is in what they call the “intake” stage. My suspicion is that this is a fancy word for “it’s in a massive pile of untouched files on the new guy’s desk.” She says that they will be reviewing the case to decide for sure what they will charge him with, and also working on any holes in the case that have to be shored up in order to go to the grand jury. I asked her if we will have an opportunity to have any input to this part of the process. The answer is no. The DA does not meet with the family until after the grand jury phase. I asked her how I keep informed about the status of the case, and she said she could make a note in the file that I want to be notified when the case is scheduled for grand jury, and what charges they plan to bring. (Isn’t it insane that I would not automatically be told these things? What family that lost their husband, son, father, brother, would not want to know what charge they decide on and when it is going to the grand jury?) I told her I did want to be notified, and asked when is the earliest I would expect to hear about those things. She told me the end of September or early October is the very earliest, and it might not be that soon. I asked her if that means it would actually go in front of the grand jury then, or if that is just when a date would be set for the grand jury. She said that the actual grand jury proceeding would not happen then – that is just when it would be put on the calendar for some future date.

I know this is how things work, but it is so frustrating. If the police department that had responsibility for the accident reconstruction just would have done their job in a timely way, so much more progress could have been made by now. I am so sick of waiting to be someone’s priority. This is not a big city we are talking about - these are small towns that have very few, if any, criminal deaths in a year. I just don’t understand what is more important than the fact that he died – that someone killed him. Barking dogs? Auto thefts? Shoplifting? When is it Kirk's turn to be first on someone’s list? How horrible of an event does it take to be the top priority?

I just want it to be his turn, my turn, for someone to say “this is what I am going to spend my time on today.” I don’t understand what is more important. Do they just do this in chronological order? Does an ATM break-in that happened the day before he died come first? Shouldn’t there be some priority given based on what the crime was? I try to think through it logically – what crime is worse than killing someone? Rape? Horrible, but not worse than dead. Child abuse? I feel terrible for thinking this, but it’s still not dead. DEAD. Think about it - what could be worse than dead? There are terrible things done to people, but in the end, what victim would choose death over survival? If the answer is that in the end we would all choose to survive even the worst injury, doesn’t that mean that the person who is dead has suffered the worst crime of all, and should at least be closer to the top of the list than he seems to be?

When they told me I won’t even get an update for at least a month I couldn’t stand it. I felt like a two year old having a temper tantrum inside – me me me me me me. I have waited long enough - I have no more patience. Kirk was taken from us and it should be our turn to feel like someone cares. He deserves to be someone’s first concern - all the other victims can wait. Unless they are dead too, in which case they also deserve attention, especially if they died before him.

I know that some who read this may be more familiar with the justice system than I am. Please don’t try to help me understand – I know there are probably good reasons for what is happening. This is emotion again, not logic.

Also this week, I found a grief support group. I have not been feeling like I was ready for that, or needed it quite yet – I have just needed to focus on getting through each day. But in the last few weeks I have been breathing a little easier and decided it is time to try. I don’t want one-one-one counseling at this point. Mainly because I am so sick of “interviewing” people to help me. I have already had to deal with meeting multiple lawyers, financial planners, etc., so I can pick some who are a good match for me. I still haven’t found a financial planner. When I think about having to find the right counselor, I imagine having to tell the story over and over until I find the right one. It’s just too much. So I signed up for a group instead. It starts in October. The person who runs it seems good – we talked on the phone today. But talking to her brought it all out again. There have been fewer tears in the past few weeks, but this week, between talking to the DA’s office and the grief support lady, the tears just came out again and again.

I don’t understand where the calmness went. During the first week after he died – the very hardest week yet – I was so shocked and sad, and yet inside me, there was a calmness, a sense of peace. It was like a solid feeling inside me that it would all be all right in the end, because it was worth it. The marriage, the love, the children, the happiness, the ordinary daily life – the sum of these things was so good that even though it was shattered, the goodness was worth any amount of pain. As devastated as I was, I was literally filled with that thought, and it brought me incredible peace. It was like a rock inside me – something to cling to, to make even the worst thing “okay” in a way. There was a quiet place inside me that even in the grief said, “That’s all you get to have of him, but it was so great it’s okay to only have gotten that much.” It literally helped me keep breathing. But after about the two week mark, it disappeared. Not the feeling that it was worth it – that has never ever wavered, not even for a moment. But where is the peace it brought?

I am worried (as always) that I am not being clear and that what I’m saying will be misunderstood. It WAS worth it. I WOULD do it again. But the comfort inside me is gone. Instead, the “it was worth it” makes me sad, and hungry for more of him. I want the rest of what I should have had – the arguments we had not yet had about whether I called when I should have, the meals he had not yet cooked, the vacations we had not yet taken, the Seinfeld episodes we had not yet watched for the twentieth time. I want the next thirty years, not just the last thirty. The gratitude that was keeping me afloat is not working anymore. It’s still there, but where is the peace that used to come with it? When the last few weeks were emotionally calmer, I thought it would come back. I thought that maybe the confusion and challenge of the last few months had just temporarily blocked it, and that with my emotions getting a little quieter, it would come back. But it didn’t. I could sure use that peace now, when life seems to be getting tougher again.

The next post – I PROMISE – will be happier. I need a break from all this crappiness.