Everyone is always telling me to “let go.” This is a memory I don’t want to let go, this is a memory I can’t.

On March 12, 2006, my mom received a phone call. Although it was mom who answered, and she got the message, this message was not meant to go directly to her but to my step father Mike. Soon I would discover it was my grandpa Lloyd on the phone, and that my life would be changed forever.
“What?” my mom said curiously. A long pause followed our end of the line. Tears began to roll down my mother’s face, a look of loss, and pain in her eyes.
My brother was in the room as well, “Mom? What’s wrong? What happened? Are you okay? Mom? Why are you crying?”
My mom silenced my brother with a painful sounding, “Shh.”
A pause, a very long silence for the person on the other end to speak. “No, he is at work,” My mom replied, then a short silence, “I should probably drive there to tell him. He will need some comforting.”
Another short pause, “Okay,” another short pause then an instant reply from my mom, “Yeah, I love you too ... I’m very sorry for your loss.”
My heart sank. I thought to myself, “who died, how, what’s going on, is this a dream?”
My mom hung up the phone. The four of us, my mom, my brother, my sister, and I sat in silence, tears rolling down our faces. Even though I was unsure of who’s death it had been, I cried.
My mother breaking the painful silence spoke softly, “Lisa has passed on,” She said, “Your grandpa Lloyd doesn’t know how. All the police said was she had died.”
I tried to process the news I had just received. All I could feel was the need to cry, or break stuff, or throw fists. I did only one of the three of course.
Tears covered my face, as sobs came from my four year old sister, unaware of the things that have happened. That day, I saw my brother cry, the most I’ve ever seen him cry. Suddenly I remembered the last time I saw her, the last words I said to her, “I hate you.” The words made my heart pound. My body gaining an unpleasant chill down my spine. Those words echoed in my head a few times till I realized my fists were clinched at my sides, and my tears had begun to worsen.
Mom stood up, put her shoes on, grabbed her purse and turned to my brother and me saying, “I have to drive to the Pro Shop(Mike’s work) and tell him his sister has died. He probably won’t believe me if I just call.”
As my brother got up to put his shoes on he asked, “Can I come with you?”
“Sure, you can watch Maisye while we are there. Delainey, you want to come too?”
I replied, “Not really.” My stomach began to turn.
“I will see if the neighbors will watch you then,” She said wiping the tears from her eyes with a tissue. She disappeared out the front door. I was alone, not really alone. My brother was in the room, but it felt like it without my mom. I needed my mom.
“Oh my goodness,” I thought, “What about the girls?” Lisa had two daughters, Kourtney and Rebecca. Lisa’s husband Chris was in Iraq.

Later that day, after sleeping the whole time I was at my neighbors, my mom told me the news.
“He is flying home right now. The girls are with the police officers until he gets home. Don’t worry. Go get some sleep. You look exhausted.”
I wasn’t even tired since I slept all day, but I walked to my room and went to sleep in the comfort of my bed. Thinking the stress of the day would be lost within my dreams.
I was wrong.


It started with Lisa, she was so beautiful, and so young, in that blue v-neck shirt she always loved to wear. Knocking at the door startled her at first she said to herself, “Maybe the girls got scared at their friends house,” Thinking aloud she said, “They probably wouldn’t knock that heavily,” Maybe it’s Darome already, he just called though, huh oh well, I hope it’s him.”(Darome was one of my aunt’s closest friends.)
She answered the door, to no surprise it was Darome. Instantly she let him in and gave him a big hug.
They chatted for a bit and of course drank a few beers.
Darome, looking a little tense, or was it curious. Who knows, looked up and said, “Hey how about another round.” A grim smile on his face, hate in his eyes unlike before.
Apparently normal to Lisa she replied with that same beautiful smile she always has on replied, “You read my mind,” She smiled, “How about I turn on some music?”
“Sounds good,” He said leaving the room.(My dream followed him to the kitchen.)
He started toward the fridge, normal. But, then he passed it. “Huh?” He went to a drawer, pulling it open slowly, quietly, removing a knife from it. He slid it into his pocket, covering it with his shirt, walked to the fridge and grabbed a beer. “Why one though?” I thought.
He returned to the room Lisa was in, coughing once as a sort of warning to let her know he was back, because Lisa had her back to him. They talked about the music for a sec, and then he started to walk toward Lisa, pulling out the knife.
One stab, “If I can’t have you, nobody can,” He said slowly. Two, three, four... seven, as a single drop of blood landed on his shoe. She was on the ground. He stood over her. Blood seeping out of her mouth, tears rolling down her face, a puddle of crimson red blood around her, he was watching as the light left her eyes. Her face was pale, the joy in her eyes now long gone, her facial expression, the one thing I will never forget. The image was like a computer screen left on to long, it was burnt into my thoughts. A, “Why?” look in her face. Every time I close my eyes, I see her lying there, almost as if it was tattooed onto the inside of my eyelids.
His face was once again a grim and painless smile. He started to clean; the beers he drank disappeared into an open trash bag he grabbed from the kitchen. He threw away everything else that had his DNA on it.
He got in his car, after locking the front door of my aunt’s house, then drove away.
He got to his house, he took the clothes he was wearing off and put them in the trash bag from earlier. He didn’t realize the blood drop on one of his shoes so he put them into his closet. The knife, he pulled it out of his pocket and placed it in the bag too.
He drove to an unknown location near a river, lit the bag on fire, after it was burnt to nothing he shoveled it into another bag then picked it up and threw it in the water.

I woke up in tears, of course it was really late, so I didn’t wake my mom or step dad up I just went back to sleep.

Months later, we found out my dream was correct, seven stabs, Darome, all of it. He was put on trial, the one piece of true evidence, the drop of blood on his shoe. It was hers. The trial was postponed three times; it took four trials to put him behind bars. He will remain there for the rest of his years.
With a life ahead of her, a family, two kids, a husband, and many brothers and sisters, and very many loving friends, she was taken from us. Forgetting, or letting go, are clearly not options. For I will hold on to the memories I have with her, the tears, laughter, and relationship I had with her, will forever live in my heart. Along with my brother, mother, and step father, I will never look at her death as a bad thing. But, I will see it good in a way. I will remember the day she died forever. I look at it like this, good things happen along with the bad things, remembering the good, and learning from the bad. Lisa R. Nosset is a part of who I am today. I miss and love her very much.

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Tag der Veröffentlichung: 07.03.2010

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Lisa Nosset 12-30-77 - 3-11-06