so angry that my friend is dead
i mentioned it a while back; she was murdered in late November. i am not coming to grips at all. am having overwhelming, nearly crippling surges of rage, and am only superficially successful at hiding it.
Tempest was an amazing woman. she was younger than i, in the same “family”, like a sister or a close cousin. she was my unicyle guru, and one of my fondest memories of her was the day she took a dare and juggled 3 apples while riding her unicyle down a long steep forest path .......yelling and cursing the whole way.
she was a musician and a puppeteer, the work with puppets and her unicycle was a delight to watch; she specialized in parades. it was her idea to make the solar powered guitars, bass and amps and put together concerts that people have to hike in and camp to attend. is folk-punk a real genre? she made it one.
‘pest was dyslexic to the point of illiteracy, but she could read a circuit diagram in a glance, and oh she wrote elegant code. she had a memory like a steel trap and knew a 100’s of stories, myths and legends to tell around a campfire. the puppets she made were a combination of whatever she might find, and they told stories, too.
she was beautiful, healthy, funny, cheerful, hard-working, sensuous, positive, and truly interested and fascinated by the world around her. people grew happier in her presence. she and i shared a lack of fashion sense; and we would shop together in the free store with our eyes closed, finding the fabrics we wanted to touch our skin. she was one of the people i trust to keep her head and pull her weight when we canoed in the sea.
she hated to cook, and kept a vegan house, so as to cut down on ingredients. she was omnivorous, and if hungry, would eat anything.
she left a child. Gracie is 3 and has no known biological relatives. she and i are pals, but i’m not in the running for being her adoptive mum. everyone will pitch in and make sure her new parents (up until now they were grandparents-of-the-heart) have fewer chores and more time. Gracie is a Spina Bifida child and is already a terror in her wheelchair. she has meltdowns every day; she’s three; it’s all fresh and raw every moment.
of course i’m not alone in my grief. it helps to share, and to work together while we do. there’ve been gatherings large and small; counseling, and comforting. i am aware of how selfish i am to be grieving so hard when i’m not the only one who lost her, nor is my loss the most important. i also know that kind of thing can’t be measured.
Tempest’s murder appears to be the result of an assault attempt. she was no slouch at self defence and i have a strong feeling that someone approached her and she said “no” and probably was polite; she likely even smiled. it must have never occurred to her that she wasn’t safe; she was on-island, and less than 100 meters from her home. someone bashed in the back of her skull with a tree branch and threw her body in the ocean. i’m having flashbacks, having survived a similar assault. we all thought that one was a weird awful fluke… that kind of violence happening in our quiet and close-knit community.
the rage is slopping over into everything. i’m angry at almost everything and everyone. my friend is dead. i’m mad at all of you for not knowing her, so you could at least grieve with me.
yeah.. who says i have to be logical …
hard physical labour … yes, it helps, because i have to focus in order not to do any damage. if i drank, this would be a good time to quit. not much could feel worse.
i’m trying. time will pass. my friend won’t get any older than 26.
eh, i really do love you all. we share stuff. this is big stuff for me.
Tempest was an amazing woman. she was younger than i, in the same “family”, like a sister or a close cousin. she was my unicyle guru, and one of my fondest memories of her was the day she took a dare and juggled 3 apples while riding her unicyle down a long steep forest path .......yelling and cursing the whole way.
she was a musician and a puppeteer, the work with puppets and her unicycle was a delight to watch; she specialized in parades. it was her idea to make the solar powered guitars, bass and amps and put together concerts that people have to hike in and camp to attend. is folk-punk a real genre? she made it one.
‘pest was dyslexic to the point of illiteracy, but she could read a circuit diagram in a glance, and oh she wrote elegant code. she had a memory like a steel trap and knew a 100’s of stories, myths and legends to tell around a campfire. the puppets she made were a combination of whatever she might find, and they told stories, too.
she was beautiful, healthy, funny, cheerful, hard-working, sensuous, positive, and truly interested and fascinated by the world around her. people grew happier in her presence. she and i shared a lack of fashion sense; and we would shop together in the free store with our eyes closed, finding the fabrics we wanted to touch our skin. she was one of the people i trust to keep her head and pull her weight when we canoed in the sea.
she hated to cook, and kept a vegan house, so as to cut down on ingredients. she was omnivorous, and if hungry, would eat anything.
she left a child. Gracie is 3 and has no known biological relatives. she and i are pals, but i’m not in the running for being her adoptive mum. everyone will pitch in and make sure her new parents (up until now they were grandparents-of-the-heart) have fewer chores and more time. Gracie is a Spina Bifida child and is already a terror in her wheelchair. she has meltdowns every day; she’s three; it’s all fresh and raw every moment.
of course i’m not alone in my grief. it helps to share, and to work together while we do. there’ve been gatherings large and small; counseling, and comforting. i am aware of how selfish i am to be grieving so hard when i’m not the only one who lost her, nor is my loss the most important. i also know that kind of thing can’t be measured.
Tempest’s murder appears to be the result of an assault attempt. she was no slouch at self defence and i have a strong feeling that someone approached her and she said “no” and probably was polite; she likely even smiled. it must have never occurred to her that she wasn’t safe; she was on-island, and less than 100 meters from her home. someone bashed in the back of her skull with a tree branch and threw her body in the ocean. i’m having flashbacks, having survived a similar assault. we all thought that one was a weird awful fluke… that kind of violence happening in our quiet and close-knit community.
the rage is slopping over into everything. i’m angry at almost everything and everyone. my friend is dead. i’m mad at all of you for not knowing her, so you could at least grieve with me.
yeah.. who says i have to be logical …
hard physical labour … yes, it helps, because i have to focus in order not to do any damage. if i drank, this would be a good time to quit. not much could feel worse.
i’m trying. time will pass. my friend won’t get any older than 26.
eh, i really do love you all. we share stuff. this is big stuff for me.
Comments
This will take time mick, get a bean bag to punch or something if you think it will help, but don't hold back.
I'm glad to hear you are not alone in dealing with this though. So sorry for your loss, mick.
dang it, you folks are about the only thing i do online, and it's been a long sweetly strange journey. the anger i feel bleeds through what i say and do here as well as ... here. (chair.. home.. etc)
i've gone on before about how much i despise the passive-aggressive style of communication, where anger or anguish or aggro aren't openly acknowledged, but come out in meanness and snarky snaky attitude. I don't want to be one of those people. I want to be angry .. openly.. where it's appropriate, and treat all of you better than I have in the last few weeks.
that ^ was an apology. i've been impatient and more prone to jumping to conclusion (yes, it is possible), and less likely to check with someone before judging what i think i hear or read.
she was killed on November 18. the last thing we did together was some voice work. 'pest was working on a piece for a big poetry slam, and i provided an aural "sound box" behind her words while she worked on the phrasing and tonalities. damn... weeping again...
x
so so sorry that all this happened.
there are not words...
:depressed:
my thoughts are with you, mick and everyone else she left behind.
I am trying very hard to be strong and to keep the anger un-dangerous (to me or to anyone). one thing i'm certain of is that part of the motive for telling y'all about this was to raise my own awareness of how i'm treating others.
i really am sorry i've neglected to answer an emails or messages; i've been short-tempered and not as kind or helpful as i could be. i'll do better, not only because you all deserve it, but because letting my friend's murder turn me into a person i don't like would be like putting ugly frosting on a death cake.
love you all....
x
be angry if it helps, i know you won't let the anger consume you
physical labor almost always helps with rage.
let the sorrow and loss absorb your anger.
the sorrow will never leave you, but that is not necessarily bad.
the anger will leave if you don't let it make you bitter, bitterness is not good
there is no selfishness in your grief, just see that you save a little energy for the people whose grief may be even greater (i know you will)
lots of love to you
thursday (day before yesterday) we got this:
translation: we have no leads, no clues, no ideas. we are short on staff. this investigation, while not closed, is off the front burner.
of course life goes on; 'pest's little girl is doing pretty well; that's a bright spot. missing someone isn't about how long it's been; it's about those moments when you're doing something and wishing they were right there with you. that happens a lot and it twists my gut each time.
i did inherit her unicycle; it is a much better model than the cheapo one i used for parades.
shit