St. Patrick’s Day will always make me think of Connie. On St. Patrick’s Day in 1992, Connie was killed by her ex-husband. She had restraining orders, she did everything she could. Someone wrote a “true crime” book about it. I tried to read it, but I couldn’t, because I knew how it ended.
I met Connie at a time in my life when I wanted so desperately to be an adult. She was dating my uncle, and she wasn’t much older than me, but she didn’t treat me like a kid. She talked to me like a friend. She thought I was smart. She kept me company on vacation when everyone else ignored me. I was too old to be with the kids, but too young to be with the grown ups. We went shopping, swimming. She trusted me to watch her son. I remember my grandmother giving my uncle shit for dating such a young woman. She'd say, “Oh look, you brought home a play mate for Jesse.” But after a little while, even my grandmother loved Connie. Funny and warm, she fit right into our family of nuts. Everyone loved her.
Damn, I still miss her.
5 comments:
wow! That's crazy. What a terrible saga for your family to remember every St. Pattys day. Is the name of the book "true crime"?
that is sad. I had a similar older friend. I don't know where she's at these days.
that is so sad. I don't mean for this to sound rude and maybe I should read the book, but was it your uncle who killed her?
I'm sorry to hear. I had a classmate who was killed by an ex-boyfriend. You'll have to post the book name one day, I'm sure my MIL has read it.
*hugs*
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