One day at a time

I’ve been avoiding this blog… mostly because I’m still wandering about in the land of loss, pain and disbelief. I’m beginning to wonder if anyone intimately touched by violence, anyone left bereft by violence, ever really leaves this place fully.

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We thought at the beginning that Aaron had shot Jude and then himself; that was the first report we got. Later on we discovered that Jude had shot Aaron – during an episode of domestic violence – and then killed herself.

I tell myself that I don’t understand, that I’ll never understand, why Jude – and for that matter, Aaron – had to die like that. But I think, if I’m honest with myself, I can all too easily understand.

There comes a point when abuse and violence boil over and all the sane responses flee and all the possibilities narrow to one, single, destructive option.  And while none of us will ever really know for certain what happened, I believe with all my heart that Jude did what she did because at that moment, a moment that probably seemed like a hellish eternity, there was only one possibility.

People talk about abuse victims like gossips over the back fence with a particularly salacious story to share. They wonder why women stay with abusers. They wonder why we don’t just leave when he hurts us… I can tell you. Abuse makes us vulnerable. It’s like the wind in the desert, eating away at your strength, your will, your ability to make rational decisions. It eviscerates the you that you thought you were. Pretty soon you’re like one of those gravity-defying formations – at risk of being toppled by the next big blow. You’ll grasp at any promise, at any and all the insufficient apologies, trying to shore yourself up. You’ll do your damnedest to make things work because you know – you really know – that you’re not nearly strong enough to walk away.

Some of us eventually find a way to leave... too, too many of us do not.

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I understand why it’s called heartache…

About the time it seems that I’m doing better I discover that the unbelievable pain is still there – it grabs me and throws me to the ground again, leaving me broken and defenseless.  People keep trying to give me solace. I love them for it, but…

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I am so looking forward to the day when my thoughts of Jude are the kind of happy memories that everyone tells me I should be thinking.

I love you Jude. I'll miss you forever.

Remembering Jude

Jude was clever, kind, stubborn, generous, opinionated, gentle, loving, smart, beautiful... She laughed a lot at herself and rarely at others. She took in strays (animals and people) and loved them unconditionally.

We tell ourselves we are here because we loved Jude. We are really here because Jude loved us. Whoever Jude loved was her family and family was everything that made life good and worthwhile. So, all of you who loved Jude, and all of you who were loved by Jude, are family.

Everyone in this room has lost a grandmother, a mother, an aunt, a sister, a daughter.

It's hard to lose your grand-mama, especially when you haven't really gotten the chance to know her. Grand-mamas are so important to little boys - they keep them honest, they keep them happy, they teach them love, unconditional love. They teach them that the world existed before they came along, but the world is so much richer now that they are here. All of us have to help keep Jude's story alive for Malachi, so that even though his first-hand memories of Jude fade, his knowledge of her, and his love for her does not. And perhaps more importantly, making sure that her love for him does not fade from this world.

 It's hard to lose your mother, especially a mother who loves you as deeply and as truly as Jude loves you. I can tell you Zaviara, that from the moment she knew you were coming, you filled her heart with joy, and her entire being with hope and love. Never doubt that you meant everything to her, that you were her pride, her treasure, her great gift to all of us. We are so lucky that we have you. We love you.

It’s hard to lose your aunt. Aunties can be like a big sister, guiding you, keeping you in line while inspiring you to see yourself as better than you think you are. They love you without reserve. They protect you from the world. They can get you thinking new ideas and doing new things. They can inspire you and stay connected with you during that time in life when you know for certain that all adults are stupid… your aunt is rarely stupid in your eyes, and never far from your heart.

It's hard to lose your sister. Who loves you more than your sister? Who drives you crazier than your sister? Who's got your back more than your sister? Who is more proud of you than your sister? When you are right with your sister, there's nothing that can defeat the two of you. And man, Jude was a powerful sister. All of you, all of Jude's sisters and brothers by blood and by love's choice, you are some of the most fortunate siblings in the world. You get to keep her faith in love alive.

 It's hard to lose a daughter. I didn't give birth to Jude, but she was my daughter, and I was her mom... one of them – extended, blended, complicated families are like that. Many of us in this room spent years raising our children together, sharing the responsibility of their care and nurturing. Watching them grow into splendid adults with families of their own. Our children are our legacy, our dreams for the future, but it's more than that. Our children are our truest expression of love and faith and hope for the world and they should not leave this earth before we do. It's not supposed to happen that way. But it has. We've lost our daughter. Our hearts are broken and our souls riven. All we can do at this time is hold out our arms to each other in love and help one another try to heal.

 Jude came to Minnesota for a few months last year. I was happy to see her and to get to know her again. I learned anew how amazingly aware of the world she was, how beautifully she saw things, how fully she lived. She brought Zavy and Malachi up to visit for a while, giving us the pleasure of their company, sharing them with us, making them a part of our lives.

 I now recognize that brief time as the sublime gift that it was.

 Jude never left my presence without giving me her biggest smile and telling me she loved me. I’ve made a promise to myself that, moving forward, I will be sure to say "I love you" to those I care for, as often as possible, in honor of our beautiful Jude.

Jude's memorial service

is at 3pm (EST) on Monday. If it's possible, please think of her - and us, her large family - for a few moments at that time, with love for each other and hope for the world.

Things like this aren't supposed to happen

I'm having trouble breathing past the tightness and the pain. Jude is dead. Now my family has a Jude-sized hole in it. And it really hurts.

Tomorrow is her birthday. She would be 37.

Your children are supposed to live much longer than you.

I didn't give birth to Jude, but she was my daughter... extended families are like that. The strange, difficult combinations and permutations can give us lovely connections that would not have happened otherwise. The pain of the relationships that don't quite work is sometimes offset by the joy that an extra son or daughter or sister or brother brings.

Oh, Jude was clever, kind, stubborn, generous, opinionated, gentle, loving, smart, beautiful... She laughed a lot at herself and rarely at others. She took in strays (animals and people) and loved them unconditionally. Family was everything for her.

She loved her husband. And I believe that he loved her too, but he also hurt her a lot. She came up to Minnesota last year to get away from him. She told me she felt really good with the decision to leave, that she loved him immensely, but couldn't handle the the violence. It seemed like she was in a good place about it all. She hoped to find a job and stay up here.

The job didn't quickly materialize. And I think he started calling her, making promises. He must have convinced her that it really was going to be different. Maybe he said he'd get therapy, seek counseling... I don't know. Jude didn't tell me and after she went back our conversations were mostly Facebook posts - short, funny, trivial... I didn't want her to feel like I would criticize her for a decision I might also have made if I were in her situation...

I guess I'll never understand why anyone would ever hurt someone they loved.

Today we found out that they are dead. We think that sometime this week he killed her and then killed himself.

I really, really cannot believe this happened. Oh, fuck, it hurts. It hurts.
What I really want to do right now is gather everyone close and take care of them, protect them.

Jude - I love you. I can't stand it that he took you away from us.