The writing below is dated March 4, 2020. I was in the disparaging depths of traumatic grief and its close cousin, PTSD. I remember that desperation, the idea of it anyways, but am grateful to say that I am not there anymore. I still suffer the lingering effects of both–the PTSD and panic disorder sometimes spike and at other times, they ripple reminding me of the stone tossed (or shot like a bullet) almost four years ago.

Today is yet another anniversary. It was four years ago that I drove away from Josiah as he turned to smile and wave goodbye. Every fiber of my being told me to turn around and hug him just one more time, but I did not want to bother him. I did not want to interrupt his precious time connecting with his friends.

As humans, the social creatures that we are, connection is everything. On a very primal level, it is what ensures our survival which is why we find connection so comforting. I believe at the very core of why I continue to advocate for Josiah, why I have this blog and continue to spend much of my available time working on the book, Remember the Birds, is the need for connection–with him and with what is left which is all of you.

Yesterday, with the impending doom of today’s anniversary looming, I found myself physically nauseas with grief, trapped inside of a body I did not want to be in. Once again, the remedy was connection as I am blessed with people who continue to support me on this sometimes excruciating path of life after homicide.

For a moment, I thought I shouldn’t share this writing with all of you.”How depressing!” the voice in my head said to me, but it has been wrong many times before. Instead, I bring it to you for contrast. Without the dark, we have no light. And without Josiah, I would not experience any of this–not the pain, the grief or the contrasted joy. I wouldn’t trade our lives or the bittersweet memory of that last hug and kiss for anything.

I hope today brings you peace and the sweet contentment of connection whether its with your friends, your pets, nature or your inner world and creativity.

~ Liz, Josiah’s mom

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The Absence of Color ~ Originally written March 4 2020

Black is not a color – it is the absence of color.

This space that I now inhabit is not a life – it is the absence of life – the absence of joy – the absence of hope and dreams – purpose and inspiration.

It is an immeasurable void caused by an unspeakable crime with innumerable victims in an unfathomable world.

I do not want this life.

I do not want this loss.

I do not know how to answer the question, 

“Where do I go from here?” 

I am not numb. I am empty. 

I am in a disparaging wasteland – devoid of all that I ever knew to be true.  

The only joy I know is what I experience through the lives of others. 

The only love I see is in the eyes of my beloveds. 

The only hope I have is held in the hearts of the people who walk beside me.

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