When our granddaughter, Nicole, was murdered on New Year’s Eve, 2018, our lives were forever altered. One evil act, perpetrated by a person or people still unknown, took her from us in the most shocking and painful way imaginable. For her parents and sisters, her grandparents and aunts, uncles and cousins, the first few months of 2019 were a crash course in learning how to stop the bleeding, metaphorically speaking.
Even as we were each still in a fog of disbelief, we had to deal with police, and coroners, and the bureaucracy of violent death. We had to arrange to have her body brought home to Houston, to decide upon cremation or embalming, to find a place to hold a funeral, and a cemetery where she would be laid to rest. Someplace beautiful and peaceful, and close enough that we could visit.
These decisions were complicated by the financial aspect. Planning for someone’s earthly sendoff is not unlike planning a wedding. We wanted simple and elegant, but it made no sense to us to spend the thirty or forty thousand dollars we could easily have invested.
You know death is always out there, of course, but you expect it to come calling much later, and you expect it to arrive in an orderly fashion, according to age.
We are fortunate in that we are a close family, and we were able to draw on each other for strength and support. By the time we buried Nikki’s ashes on March 10th, we had survived the immediate impact. What remained was learning to live with our new reality, and we each had to do that in our own way.
So now we’re in the next stage of this long journey we’ll be on the rest of our lives. Nicole is always with us, and we’ve found ways to honor her. On what would have been her 25th birthday, her sisters prepared practical gift bags for us to take and distribute to homeless people we encountered; Nikki always had a heart for the homeless.
We know she wants us to be happy, and we all make conscious choices to do things that bring us joy. Nicole left the world so young; in a way we are all living not just for ourselves, but also for her. Her younger sister had a baby girl on Christmas morning, and her middle name is Nicole. The arrival of this precious little person has been balm for our souls as we go through another anniversary.
Nicole’s dad and her two sisters have established a tradition of visiting her grave on New Year’s Eve. They take a picnic lunch and talk to her, and talk about their favorite memories. Ashley missed this year, of course, but Mike and Chloe shared this picture with us.
As is true for a lot of people, I’ve always enjoyed celebrating the end of one year and the beginning of the next. I’ve traditionally shared a ritual with friends or family, focused on letting go of the old and planning for the year to come. But that no longer feels authentic to me. I’ve made peace with the fact I can’t ignore the echoes of 2018.
So this weekend, as I did last year, I’ve spent quiet time with my husband. I’ve slept little at night and caught up with naps during the day. I’m working my way through a stack of novels. I took a bubble bath, and I’m eating a lot of comfort food.
Tomorrow the weekend will be behind me. I’m beginning to get excited about filling out my Bullet Journal and writing down my plans for 2021. Tomorrow I’ll think about work and classes I might develop, my writing projects and my consulting clients. I’ll go back to my daily walks and focus on losing a few of the pounds I’ve gained during COVID. It feels okay. It’s the new normal.
Gummy you have such a beautiful soul and the way you write lights up my heart… Nikki would write like this. I love you. Thank you for sharing the “new normal”
What a beautiful article. My heart aches for you, my sweet friend, and your loved ones. No one should ever have to endure such pain. Glad you are still able to fuming joy in living❤️
Jillian, thank you for sharing your heart and reality after Nicole’s death. As I recall you were also the family spokesman to reporters and police during the investigation into her murder and may have talked to her roommates. I can relate to so much you spoke about since our son’s death by self inflicted gun wound 15 years ago. Planning a funeral, visitation, funeral home, casket, burial, headstone choice. Many sad details. Holidays for us are long and dreary. No selfies with your kids, etc.
I like the idea of a ritual. When I worked in the office, I took off on his death day anniversary and we did something our son would like to do. We do the same on his birthday. It is hard to visit his grave, especially at Christmas with the red wreaths on the graves at the military cemetery it is overwhelming.
We have hope because in our Christian faith we believe we will rejoice together in heaven.
Love to you and Dempsey. We have a special bond in the loss of a child.
God’s blessings,
Ann
So beautiful dear friend. Hard to find words but really touched me
So touching and filled with love.
Thank you, Brenda. Your words mean a lot, knowing you’ve suffered your own shocking loss, and you teach and share from that experience.
Thank you, Diane.
My heart goes out to you and Hector, Ann. You’re 13 years ahead of us on this journey no one wants to take. Thank you for your kindness, and for being their when we celebrated Nikki’s life.
Thanks, Ellen. What a waste it would be if we let this destroy the joy of living – certainly not what our girl would want for us.
Thank you, sweetheart. I love you, too, so much. And yes, I was always awed by Nicole’s talent as a writer. I wish you and your sister and dad and mom could have been spared this pain, but it is comforting to know we’re here for each other.