The beginning

It was May 2005 and life wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t bad either. I had just returned from a four-day cruise with a friend. It was a relaxing cruise where surprisingly we didn’t do much but sleep and eat. I returned home on a Monday evening. My mom stayed in my condo with my three sons and was sleeping on the couch. The boys left for school. I ironed my shirt for the day. I was completing a 40 hour domestic violence training downtown and was running a bit behind. My Mom seemed restless and bothered and when I asked her about it, she replied, “I saw Kim this weekend.” “She came over to my apartment quickly to pick up something and left.” I thought to myself ok that’s not strange. She added, “I invited her to dinner Sunday, but she told me she couldn’t come because I didn’t personally invite Rob.” Let me provide some background, Kim is my youngest sister and Rob is her boyfriend. I shared my thoughts about the situation and relationship and continued to get dressed to leave. Mom went home. She didn’t live far from me. In my mind, I didn’t think of anything unusual about what my Mom told me about Kim and Rob.

Their relationship was filled with weird situations and strange happenings. And since I had begun my domestic violence training, I had multiple red flags screaming at me. I even called my older sister while driving home from day one of the training, urging her to join me in helping Kim develop a safety plan and that I was convinced Kim was in an abusive relationship. Now here I am sitting in the next to last day of training and my cell phone is blowing up. Back to back calls but I couldn’t answer. I told myself, I would respond at lunch. I planned to walk to visit old coworkers for lunch. By the time lunch came, I was sitting at my friend’s desk and got another call. I answered. It was my Mom screaming. I ran into the bathroom and dropped to the floor. I scream because what I just heard could not be true. “Rob killed Kim.” So many thoughts ran through my mind. Actually, I believe I went blank, I could not believe it. That’s not true. How could it be? How could my sister be dead? Murdered? That’s impossible. My friends got me off the floor and allowed me to cry but not for long. They prayed with me and walked me back to the training location. I informed the trainer that I had just received news that my sister may have been murdered by her boyfriend and I needed to leave. Now that I think about it, I was very calm and apologetic; kind of too polite. I think my brain was processing what I just heard while adjusting so I could get through all that I had to do that day. I left downtown headed to Lake Shore Drive. I texted my best friend…"ROB KILLED KIM". She worked for AT&T so getting off the phone or leaving the office was close to impossible, but I had to just say it. I had to tell someone else. Within five minute she called me. “Is it true?” “I don’t know,” I said. “I’m headed to her house to find out.” I then dialed 911. I report what I knew and provided Kim’s address.

I was informed that it was already reported and the police and EMT had been dispatched to the address. I breath. I say to myself; Kim was injured. She was hurt in a fight and taken to the hospital, but she isn’t dead. I can’t remember if I drove in silence or if I had the radio on. I don’t even remember how I got to her home I just know as I turned the corner onto W. St Lawrence Avenue in Chicago, another friend was pulling right behind me. I’m assuming my best friend called her to be with me. I saw my uncle’s face. He forever greeted us with smiles and hugs but not today. Today was defeat and sadness. He was our Dad-like figure and was always fearless but not today. Today he looked hopeless and scared. I was anxious but, in my fear, I had hope. Hope because I didn’t want to believe anything else. My cousin was pacing the sidewalk looking angry. I ran to my uncle crying. Is it true? Did that mother fucker kill her? He grabbed me and held tight not saying a word. It was true. He didn’t have to say it. The yellow police tape, the look on his face, the feeling in the air. Unbelievable! Unthinkable!

The impossible. It was real though. She was lying in her bed fully naked and dead. Beaten to death with a 2x4 piece of wood left to die by the hands of the man she loved for five years, lived with and had a daughter by. The man’s whose children she loved as her own and who she missed holidays with family to be with. I don’t remember how long we stayed at her house. The police had removed Rob but not Kim’s body. My mom and her cousin showed up but didn’t get out of the car. She looked so defeated and sad and I could do nothing to help her. We were told her children were around the corner and I decided it would be best that I get them. I don’t know to this day who the older couple was or what they were told but I gathered Kim’s three children from that home and put them in my car. The baby was three at the time and she was carrying a Happy Meal box. She would later tell me she didn’t know much about the older couple either, but she wasn’t that scared since she had her brothers with her. We drove to the police station where Rob was being questioned. There was a crowd gathered outside just waiting. Family, friends, Kim’s coworkers and my church family. And Rob’s sister. I say that last because it was hard to have her there but looking back, I don’t know what I would do or how I would be if it was my sister being questioned for the murder of her brother. She was brave to be present and standing with him in the midst of us. I was angry. I was so angry I wanted to fight. “Apparently, Kim was having an affair with her boss” was her excuse for what her brother did to my sister. I looked at my friends and they gave approval through their eyes. “Yep, you can slap her”, they said. But I didn’t. I regret it to this day. I think it would have made me feel better in that moment and could have prevented all the other stupid things people would say and speculate about his reasons for beating her to death. Guess what people, it doesn’t matter now, Kimberly Garnett, my baby sister, my friend, my homie for life except her life had ended, was dead. She was dead and nothing you could say would bring her back. She was gone forever, and it was permanently sealed. What do you do with that? What do you say to her daughter? To her sons? To my Mom? Since Kim was a little girl (we were 4 years apart) she was my responsibility or at least that’s what I told myself. How could I let this happen to her? How could I, a social worker in 40 hours domestic violence training, permit this from happening? How, in our close family, could this go down like this? I failed my family. I failed Kim and I would have to live with the guilt. And I did. It was heavy and annoying. I was on auto-pilot until we buried her on Memorial Day weekend. I believe I remained in bed for most of June. Allowing my friends to take care of my children. This burden was hard. Let me give you a timeline of events. In December 2004, I lost my Mother’s mom, Grandma Jeannie. In January 2005, my mother’s cousin was diagnosed with cancer. In February 2005, that same cousin’s mother passed. In April 2005, Mom had multiple strokes. And now in May 17, 2005, Kimberly was murdered. It was a rough six months and I was exhausted mentally and physically. I wanted to be in denial, but denial wasn’t an option. The reality wore thick and constant.

How many of us avoid tasks or issues that could ultimately enhance our lives just because we simply don't want to address them? It seems like it's harder than what it appears or we know once we do it, we'll have to remain consistent in it. We owe it to ourselves to stop putting off our lives for the sake of not wanting to do the hard work. Stop putting off those things you desire, think about, or plan to do because it seems hard and mundane. There is so much “light” on the other side. And you’ll appreciate the work it took to get there. Sis, leave the relationship, write the book, call your friend, quit the job, sign up for that class...just do it! And if you need help, ask for it. Hire a friend, coach, or counselor to walk with you through it. It will be so worth it. Today, I walked past the window and laughed because I'm amazed at how I got used to seeing through a dirty window and didn't think about cleaning it. I grew comfortable living in a deficit. Now the task is maintenance but that's easier than starting all over again. I'll let that marinate...