I wrote the following FB “note” back in 2016. It had already been 7 years since I’d lost my half sister, Kayley, to a car wreck in the dead of night.
I can say that I think “we”, being my dad and step-mama, as well as my step-brother, Blair, and other members of our family, have mostly healed from this tragedy. But, there are parts of a person that never really heals from senseless tragedy.
Losing my brother in 2000 profoundly changed my life. I spent a year in such a state of numbness, that I still don’t remember much of that year. 2009 was the same, to the point, that my boss, at the time, pulled me aside and asked me to kindly get it together.
I now know that we all need the time we need, to grieve, to heal, to lay in scars where wounds exist. To remember, fondly, all the good things about our loved ones, but not to stay in that grievous place too long. If I didn’t learn anything during the dumpster fire that was 2024, it was this. I’m still clawing my way out of that grievous place, but I’m making progress.
My “letter” to my sister, from 2016.
Dear Lil Sis…
I watched this again tonight. I watch it about once a month. And when the song comes on, one of my favorite songs ever by one of my favorite groups, I think of you. Because when I look to the sky, Kay, I think of you, and I think of Mike, and I think of what could have been, but will never be.
It’s the eve of the day we found out you left us too suddenly. I’ll never forget that call from Dad. It was the second time he had been met at the door by a local lawman, telling him that he had lost one of his kids. It brought back that terrible emotion that occurred when we found out we had lost Mike. It’s the eve of the day we found out you left us too suddenly. I’ll never forget that call from Dad. It was the second time he had been met at the door by a local lawman, telling him that he had lost one of his kids. It brought back that terrible emotion that occurred when we found out we had lost Mike. Not again! But it was true. You were gone, and I was mad and sad and all discombobulated because you and I, well, we had unfinished business, Kayley. We needed to talk and argue and make up again about a terrible misunderstanding. We’ve had the talk now, but it’s all one sided. I can feel your presence around me when things are tough, standing there beside Mike, telling me to buck up and just keep going forward. Because, once you’ve lost your siblings, you can’t do anything else but keep going. Life doesn’t stop.
My lil Sis, Kayley Blonshine. Her spirit lives on.
Your mom, Karla…well, Kayley, she’s the best. She is a warrior woman inside and out. You would be so proud of her. She laughs again, even though I know you’re never far from her heart or her thoughts. She has a sparkle in her eye that was gone for awhile. Thank you for letting her have it back. She honors you every day by giving of herself and sharing her passion for her German Shepherds, much the way you did about the things you loved. Instead of falling into the deep depression that happens to parents who lose their kids, which, let’s face it, is just unnatural. We’re all supposed to die of old age, sweetly, gently, and ready to go. In our sleep. Before our kids. Instead of falling into that deep depression, your mom began to walk, then run, then slow down again, and look around. Then she clung to her reality and began the climb back out of the black pit that falls in when you lose a kid. Sadie, then Timber, and now Avi helped her. And Dad. Dad helped her. In helping her, I think he helped himself.
Karla & Dad
Kayley, I can’t imagine what it would be like to lose two of my kids. It’s unthinkable, and quite frankly, chokes me up just thinking about it. It’s beyond awful, and yet, our dad…he presses on too. He laughs, he jokes, and he loves deeply. He digs holes for people with his digital John Deere and he supports your mom, my step-mom, in her dog showing passion. He builds her things and they go to far away places to do this thing. I’m glad. They need to get away from the holy land once in awhile. Go see some stuff. Like you should have done.
I hope you’re getting to live a little vicariously through all of us now, Kayley. Even though we’re boring and predictable, I hope you can look from wherever it is you rest, and see your mom laugh and your dad look at her lovingly. I hope you get to see your great-nephew, Tristan, grow up strong and proud, looking so much like the Blonshine that’s in him. I hope you see your niece, Jess, who was more like a sister, or a cousin, and you’re happy for her. I hope you see how how well Tucker is doing and Kayley, I hope you spend a little time with your brother, Blair, and give him comfort when he needs it. But mostly, I hope you’re at peace. Your departure was certainly unplanned, and it was violent and fast. I’m just happy you didn’t see it coming and you didn’t suffer.
So tomorrow, Kay, I’m going to go and try to honor you the way I know best. I’m going to go and ride a fine red horse 75 miles. Hopefully I’ll finish, and when I do, I’ll make a toast to you and the fact that you lived fearlessly and happily. I admired your reckless spirit so much. It scared the devil out of me, but I did admire your tenacity for the things you loved.
Here’s to you, Sis, may your spirit live on in those who loved you most.
What Darlene Says... 