I've never written a blog post before but I have heard that it can be very therapeutic. I've recently suffered a great loss and I feel deep down that letting some of what I feel out into the open will be helpful on my journey through grief. So, here we go..

I've been touched by death before. The death of a loved one who had been ill, the death of a loved one who lived to be 92 years old and even the death of a close friend who accidentally overdosed. Never had I ever thought that I would have to go through the pain of my younger sister being murdered.

Murdered. How could that be? Rebecca was born on the 15th day of September of 1989. I don't have many memories of when I was younger but I do remember waiting for my baby sister to arrive. I remember the way the furniture was set up in my mother's hospital room and I remember the first time I held her. I was so excited to be a big sister.

Flash forward 23 years, 3 months and 5 days - I'm sitting at my desk at work, the phone rings, it's just before 1 in the afternoon. It's my youngest sister, Sandy, and she's sobbing. I can't understand anything she's saying. I tell her to take a deep breath, calm down. What's going on I ask. Becky is dead. -Silence- I can't think of anything to say. I'm in complete shock, I can't believe the words I just heard.

Becky and her boyfriend had been dating for 6 years. They had a very toxic relationship. They both were unfaithful, they both drank more than they should, they both partied, they both had been arrested many times for domestic violence. As Becky got older she started to realize that the live she lived, the relationship the two of them had - she didn't want anymore. She wanted to leave.

In the early morning hours of December 20, 2012 Becky's neighbor heard them fighting. She said the walls were shaking from them yelling so loudly. She said she heard Becky yell for help. No help came. Her boyfriend stabbed her 55 times. She tried to fight back, she tried to defend herself, she tried to get to her front door for help, she tried to live. She wanted to live.

Since that day, since that phone call, all I can think about is Becky and how she died. The pain, the betrayal, the fear, the loneliness. I think about what her last thoughts might have been, I think about how desperately she must have tried to hold on waiting for help. I think about her laying in her living room just inches from her front door - so close but so far away. How hopeless it must have all felt to her. Not having these thoughts is not an option for me. No matter how hard I try to distract myself from these thoughts and this pain, it creeps back in.

I'm dizzy these days from all that I feel constantly. Denial, anger, sadness, regret, empty, numb.. so many emotions. Most days I'm in denial. I don't want this to be real so it's not. The police must have wrongly identified her and the woman laying in her casket at her viewing was just simply someone else who bared a striking resemblance to Becky. This is not real. Then someone gives their condolences to me and it smacks me in the face. She is gone.

The anger almost consumes me when it comes. I hate him. I hope that he is burning in hell of the rest of eternity. I hate those who defend him and what he has done. I hate that people hope he will rest in peace, I hate that people say he was a good man. No. Good men don't do these horrendous things to people that they claim to love. 

Some days the anger doesn't come but regret does. I regret so much. I regret that I hadn't seen her since the Christmas before her death, I regret that I hadn't spoken to her since her birthday. I regret that I allowed my disapproval of her relationship to dictate the amount of time I spent with her. I regret the many things that I will never have to opportunity to tell her.

I feel empty and numb. When she died a part of me did too.