 |
Ten years ago today, Kelly-Anne Drummond was murdered.
October 3, 2004, was a day that none of us will ever forget. For those of us who loved her, it felt like our hearts were ripped from our chests. Losing someone you love is never easy, but losing someone you love to a preventable violent act committed by someone who supposedly loved her is unbearable.
In the days and weeks that followed Kell's death there were many times I thought I wouldn't be able to go on. The pain and sorrow I felt were immense. There was also a sense of guilt. Each passing minute, hour, day, and year were a reminder of how lucky I was to be alive--and a reminder of Kelly-Anne being gone.
And so, Kelly-Anne is frozen in my mind at age twenty-four. I didn't have a chance to see how her life would turn out. Because it was cut so tragically short. Sometimes I think about the adventures I know we would have had together. Sometimes I think of who she would have married, how many kids she would have had, and what she would be doing with her career. Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like to have her standing by my side at my wedding, serving as my maid of honor, just like she should have.
I still miss Kelly-Anne as much today as I did ten years ago. But somehow it is different. The feelings aren't as raw or intense. But this kind of tragedy sure can help you figure out who your real friends are. Who are the people in your life who would go out of their way for you if you experienced a loss, illness, or other difficulty? Who are the people in your life who would simply fade away because they were unable (or unwilling) to help?
Perhaps most importantly: What kind of person are you?
Coincidentally, this is my 200th post on this blog. Thank you all for reading along and helping keep Kelly-Anne's memory alive these past ten years. The photos, stories, tributes, etc. are much appreciated.
Finally, if you have a moment today, please say a prayer for Kelly-Anne. And please pray for her family as they mark the tenth anniversary of this tragedy.
