Letter to Sarah

Dear Sarah,

I wish you were still here. There's a lot going on these days. Women are speaking up for themselves. Finally. They are calling out their former abusers. A whole movement has been created of women coming forward and speaking of their experiences and holding their abusers accountable. There's quite a backlash against this movement. But as Ruth Bader Ginsberg says, "I think it will have staying power because people, and not only women, men as well as women, realize how wrong the behavior was and how it subordinated women." I wish you were here to see it. You could tell your stories, too. I, for one, would like to hear them.

You were beautiful. Inside as well as out. But as we know, beautiful women carry a particular curse in our society. You become objectified immediately. You become an object of desire, an object to possess and control. This was your curse. It wasn't your fault. It's just the way things operate. But women are pushing hard to change this.

When I learned your husband shot you, I wailed. Sally and Keith were living in the apartment next to me and I thought they probably were worried that I'd lost my mind due to the noise I made. But pretty soon, the word spread. And everyone shared my grief.

I'm sorry this happened to you. I'm sorry I never came to Leon's to let you cut or color my hair. That would have been fun. I'm sorry I was not more proactive about staying in touch with you after you married Kirk. I'm sorry I assumed the attitude of sit back and let things run their course. Because I had a feeling about him. I had a feeling he was not a good match for you. I had a feeling that he did not have your highest good in mind. I'm sorry I said nothing about this. But knowing you, you would have defended him. Because you saw the good in absolutely everyone. Even a controlling, troubled and violent marine with a drug problem who liked to carry his gun around with him.

He never should have been allowed to carry a gun.

I hate that he died immediately after he shot himself while you had to lay in a hospital bed, paralyzed and unable to speak for four days before you died. I hate that he could not witness firsthand, the consequences of his actions. He was a coward for taking his own life rather than facing what he had done to you. I know you loved him and I'm sorry to say these things. But I withheld my opinion for so long. I think it's time to come clean.

I hate that you laid in the grass of a house in a gated community in the wee hours of the morning, your blood mingling with the dew. Were you even conscious when the neighbor found you? Were you crying? Were you scared? Were you in great pain? I wonder what you must have been feeling after the person who swore to love and protect you had mortally wounded you with a gun.

I'm sorry to write these things. But I need to get them off my chest.

This is a horrible thing to wonder, but I wonder if your face was affected by the gunshot to your throat that shattered your larynx. I wonder if your family had to gaze upon this shattered face while they sat with you in the ICU for four days. Trying to comfort you. Trying to ease your pain.

I hate that the marines had to show up and tell you of Kirk's passing while you were dying in the ICU. I mean, I guess you needed to know. Because you were his wife, after all. Still, I hate that they showed up. This makes me really angry.

I hate that your beautiful, loving family had to watch you perish. Not in an hour. Not in a day. But in four. Four days. And for what? For the sake of an unstable marine with a drug problem and a gun who did not have your highest good at heart.

Your organs were given to people who needed them to live. You saved the lives of other people, Sarah. I don't know if that brings you any comfort to know. But I think you would have been happy for them.

I don't ever go visit your grave. I'll be in Winston-Salem tomorrow so maybe I can stop by and say "hi."

You had a way of bringing joy and laughter into the world unlike any other person I've known. Your crazy love of all people was nothing short of divine. My heart swells with love when I think of your generous spirit. I miss that. I miss your laughter. I miss your silliness. And I miss your hugs.

Kirk Harris was a fine example of what the patriarchy does to men. He needed to die. As do all other adherers of a system that does everything in its power to silence women, to take away our power, to reduce us to a subhuman category.

I was in the hospital the other day visiting my son. A neurologist came in and began talking to my son's father, looking always at him, never at me. My blood boiled. Sexism shows itself in the subtlest ways. I wasn't having it. I interjected questions and comments. I made certain I was seen and heard. You would have done the same thing, I feel certain.

Oh yeah, my son's been in the hospital for almost a week now. For the first several days, he wasn't able to talk. It has been so surreal having this happen during the anniversary of your injuries, your hospital stay, your death. My sorrow has been great. But my son will live and most likely will regain his use of language. So don't feel bad for me. I am grateful he will be well again. I just wish...well, you know. I wish you were here.

During the four days that you were in the hospital, I made a painting to help me process my grief for what had happened to you. But also, it helped me process what had happened to me when my husband hurt me. I will never understand how I ended up alive and you ended up dead.

Anyway, here's the painting I made:

Yes. It's a giant vagina. Giver of life. Source of creation. Object of desire. But our own property.

Here, too, is a painting that Meghan Thompson made after your death. She and Callum came to see me after your death and Callum, sweet thing, told me that you are with the stars now.

I draped the purple scarf around it in homage to you. To honor your life. And the lives of all women who are plagued by remnants of the patriarchy that manifest as domestic violence. Women like me.

Your life is celebrated constantly. There is a memorial fund in your name with Family Services to benefit victims of domestic violence. Team Sassy raised so much money through the Walk a Mile in Her Shoes and the Black and Bling events over the past several years. You would be so proud of your mom and dad and your sister. They have become champions of the quest to end gun violence and institute common sense gun laws. They are actively involved in Mom's Demand Action and Everytown for Gun Safety which takes them all over the place, speaking about their experience and their mission. They are fantastic. They love you so much. I know they miss you greatly. But they have decided to channel their grief into direct action. I admire them for this so much. It takes great fortitude to do what they do.

I guess I'll wrap this up now before I'm late for work. 😀

Oh, before I go, I just want you to know that I call on you from time to time when I need help. When I need to remember the value of my body, my mind, my spirit. I call on your help when I feel stuck by a challenge that a man presents. I ask for your guidance. And let me tell you, I have felt it. So thank-you for that.

I love you forever.

Until we meet again,
Kathy