Life goes on


I’m back to working on the book. Here is a snippet from this morning:

In many ways I was terrified for the trials to be over. I was also ashamed to share this with anyone. Naturally everyone in my sphere was anxious for this all to end and for me to be able to get back to a “normal life”. I wasn’t. I guess some part of me knew what was coming next. And it was a big black hole.

The drama of the investigation and trials kept my grief at bay for two years. It was much easier to focus on all of that fight fight fight than it was the reality of the rest of my life. If I didn’t have that to think about when I got up in the morning–what would happen in court that day, what journalist I might hear from, how I was expected to participate in the investigation–then what did I have? The gaping emptiness of Cindy being permanently gone from my present and all my forevers slapped me square in the face. In many ways the trials ending was the hardest part of the whole legal process for me.  They brought a welcomed prolonging of the deepest sadness you could ever imagine. I was 31 years old and couldn’t imagine the landscape of my future without Cindy. In some ways I still can’t. Yet life unimaginably goes on.


4 thoughts on “Life goes on

  1. It seems many people are feeling a little lost right now after the sentencing of CMJA and most of us didn’t even know Travis. However to be an actual family member who has to go through it all is something I can not even imagine. What I can imagine is the hope and understanding you bring to those who need it most. I am learning many things from you already and I am looking forward to your book.


  2. Thank you, thank you Kathy, from the depths of my heart. I’ve just finished reading both of your blogs from beginning to end. I am also a survivor, not of murder, but of physical, sexual, emotional and psychological abuse from the age of 4 until 50. I never got justice in my one time in court. That was 23 years ago, and it took me almost all that time to finally open up about it and start writing about it. It felt like such a release to put it to words, even though it was only one single blog entry. It’s so hard to face it with complex PTSD rearing its ugly head at each new trigger.

    I admire your strength and courage. A big part of me is still fighting mad, wanting to change laws, so that corruption ends in the judicial system. It seems that only those with money and influence can win, at the expense of the innocent. I think I just may start writing again.


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