Dearest Lisa,
It's been 4 years since you left us- four long years. I hope that you have found happiness there in the Light.
4 years since that day when we all learned about what you had done- that horrible deed- done in the back of a van. A dirty painting van that you had cleaned out just enough to fit you, a pillow and a few mementos of the life that you were leaving behind. I was at work when I heard, and then I drove like crazy to get down to Baltimore comfort your Widow, Sandy.
I wonder if you knew what the day was like after you left this world. It was a beautiful day. The sun was incredibly bright- barely a cloud in the sky. And it wasn't too hot. It actually reminded me a lot of September 11th 2001- a day that nothing horrible could possibly happen with the weather that was given us.
And while your death is hardly a blip in the total consciousness of this world, in my world it is still an open sore- a wound that will never heal, and I don't even have the worst of it.
It was a very beautiful day- the type of day that one could not believe for such an occasion. I like to think that the beauty of the day reflected the Light welcoming you into it, and that the Joy of you going home to the Light was reflected in the weather. I know you didn't believe in an afterlife. In fact, we talked about it several times, and decided that we would just agree to disagree.
I guess now you know who is right and who is wrong.
Four years: four long years.
So much has happened. I remember your funeral, and I really don't know how I survived it. Seeing you laid out in drab in a casket; how you were wearing a purple shirt: your favorite color. I could see the pink of your skin at the edges of the heavy Mortuary makeup: the deep pink of carbon monoxide poisoning.
I remember the crowded Funeral Home in which so many of your family- both your natural family and your Trans family, stood and comforted each other, and did our best to be strong for each other- especially for Sandy. I remember how your beautiful daughter spoke to your defense against all those who denied who you are, especially that priest. That damnable priest.
Do you realize how Loved you were?
Do you realize how many people your death affected?
No, of course not, and even if you did, that wouldn't have stopped you. I understand that. I understand that very well. Nothing could've stopped you at that point. Your world had constricted into a narrow Focus. I understood that then- I understand it now.
And we who remain behind- those that loved you and still love you- still suffer. Maybe not as much for some people. Maybe for some the dull ache is in the background, and I'm happy for them. Maybe some don't even think about it anymore, and I am happy for them, too. But there are those of us, I don't know how many, for whom this day of all days is a day that hurts. It still hurts beyond belief. Beyond the ability of human beings to cope.
4 years later and I'm still writing about You. I'm still thinking about You. I still cry for You. I still love You. I really hope that the course you took solved your problems. I really hope so, because God damn you if it didn't. For all this pain that you put upon us
I'll always miss you Lisa, and I'll always love you.
Until we meet again,
Sophie
It's been 4 years since you left us- four long years. I hope that you have found happiness there in the Light.
4 years since that day when we all learned about what you had done- that horrible deed- done in the back of a van. A dirty painting van that you had cleaned out just enough to fit you, a pillow and a few mementos of the life that you were leaving behind. I was at work when I heard, and then I drove like crazy to get down to Baltimore comfort your Widow, Sandy.
The Last night I saw her alive
I wonder if you knew what the day was like after you left this world. It was a beautiful day. The sun was incredibly bright- barely a cloud in the sky. And it wasn't too hot. It actually reminded me a lot of September 11th 2001- a day that nothing horrible could possibly happen with the weather that was given us.
And while your death is hardly a blip in the total consciousness of this world, in my world it is still an open sore- a wound that will never heal, and I don't even have the worst of it.
It was a very beautiful day- the type of day that one could not believe for such an occasion. I like to think that the beauty of the day reflected the Light welcoming you into it, and that the Joy of you going home to the Light was reflected in the weather. I know you didn't believe in an afterlife. In fact, we talked about it several times, and decided that we would just agree to disagree.
I guess now you know who is right and who is wrong.
Four years: four long years.
The funeral home. Lisa lay below the cross.
So much has happened. I remember your funeral, and I really don't know how I survived it. Seeing you laid out in drab in a casket; how you were wearing a purple shirt: your favorite color. I could see the pink of your skin at the edges of the heavy Mortuary makeup: the deep pink of carbon monoxide poisoning.
I remember the crowded Funeral Home in which so many of your family- both your natural family and your Trans family, stood and comforted each other, and did our best to be strong for each other- especially for Sandy. I remember how your beautiful daughter spoke to your defense against all those who denied who you are, especially that priest. That damnable priest.
Do you realize how Loved you were?
Do you realize how many people your death affected?
No, of course not, and even if you did, that wouldn't have stopped you. I understand that. I understand that very well. Nothing could've stopped you at that point. Your world had constricted into a narrow Focus. I understood that then- I understand it now.
And we who remain behind- those that loved you and still love you- still suffer. Maybe not as much for some people. Maybe for some the dull ache is in the background, and I'm happy for them. Maybe some don't even think about it anymore, and I am happy for them, too. But there are those of us, I don't know how many, for whom this day of all days is a day that hurts. It still hurts beyond belief. Beyond the ability of human beings to cope.
4 years later and I'm still writing about You. I'm still thinking about You. I still cry for You. I still love You. I really hope that the course you took solved your problems. I really hope so, because God damn you if it didn't. For all this pain that you put upon us
I'll always miss you Lisa, and I'll always love you.
Until we meet again,
Sophie
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