Monday, February 23, 2009


Nothing, not words, not drawings, nothing can describe homicide grief.

We have Denise's picture displayed prominently on one of our side tables. It's placed there to be eye level for the two babies. It's a beautiful picture. Possibly one of her best. Denise was amazingly photogenic. Just beautiful. Inside and out.

Sometimes I look at her picture and just start crying. I don't know why. Other times, I'm fine. It's odd. Sometimes I look at her picture and I start to visualize her in the room. Most of the time when I visualize her she's carrying Adam, our youngest grandchild. I'll hear her voice answering me when I ask "how are you, sweetie?"

Sometimes the grief overwhelms me.

Me. Her mother in law.

I can't imagine how her own mother handles it.

Homicide grief. It's like no other.

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