This morning I was looking at Reddit and I saw the headline “Seattle Police investigating homicide in Wallingford.” I clicked through to the KOMO new article. Wallingford is a big place, relatively speaking. 43rd St. Fuck. Right next to Stone. Double fuck.

And my heart sank. I looked at the pictures and I saw the front of your house and it was immediate.

I saw the porch we would hang out on. I saw the jars you used for canning with the police next to them. I saw the rocking chair I would sit on. You always wanted a rocking porch friend. You had that tattoo on your arm of a rocking chair, for that very reason.

“38 year-old female” the article went on… FUCK.

I went to work a bit dazed. I stayed long enough to hand off some of the stuff I was working on. This wasn’t a day I was going get anything done.

On my way home I stopped by the house on 43rd. There was police tape in front of the stairs we would walk up.

I exchanged a few words with the officer on the porch. He was friendly. He offered to have to talk to the police chaplain if I needed to talk to someone. I left my number in case I could be any help.

– = –

I’ve had people around me die. We all do; it’s part of the human condition. We expect to die of age, or the complications of age at least. Or maybe it’s an accident that takes us. You don’t expect to go around being killed by another human being.

But here we are. Or, well, here I am. I hope you’re in whatever good place you could wish for.

– = –

We went places. We followed the Columbia River from Umatilla to its mouth on the Pacific. We went up to Vancouver to see a taping of your favorite podcast, “My Favorite Murder.” No, you can’t even listen to it as a podcast because the recording was messed it. It’s the, now fabled, “lost episode.”

You even got me doing crafty stuff, like like candle holder below. I made that with you and your friends. I’m a better me — because of you.

– = –

Waking up, it was a normal day.

Up until it wasn’t. Today was not a good day for me. Not for a lot of people you touched. You were a good person, one that I think made the world a better place. We are poorer as a result of this crime.

– = –

I can go on and on and post picture after picture. It doesn’t change the fucked up world we live in right now.

Lita, Stay Sexy, wherever you are.  ❤️