Bonded through Trauma. Connected for life.

A letter of gratitude and acknowledgement for my Cradle to Graves sisters.

December 16th, 2024

Merry (almost) Christmas, ladies,

I just finished a very emotional/cathartic therapy session, one that was specifically scheduled to prepare me for—what I hope will be—the last parole hearing for Nathan on January 9th. What we discussed was so beneficial, I can’t help but want to share it with you five.

This will be a long letter, so make sure you read it at a time when you can.

When the kids are asleep…

On a night when you’re on the couch with a glass of wine…

Instead of Facebook or Insta doom scrolling…

All I ask is that you hear me out and keep an open heart.

First, I want you all to know that I am not attending the January 9th parole hearing, or any hearing after that should they decide to extend his stay in prison. The weight this decision lifts from my shoulders, chest, heart, mind, and soul is profound.

Which tells me it’s the right choice to make.

Some of you will applaud this decision. Some of you will be confused by it. Some of you will feel disappointment.

That’s okay.

You’re not me.

While you’ve been side-by-side with me for the past twenty-seven years, our experiences have been vastly different.

I am now at a place in my recovery where I am making decisions for me and me alone. Not for Erik, my family, the community, or other victims.

Just me.

I am proud of myself for finally reaching this point.

The only thing I need to hear from my Cradle to Graves is—

“Okay, Dev.”

You can express your opinions regarding my decision amongst yourselves or anyone else, just not to me.

Please.

It has taken me twenty-seven years to release Nathan and what he did to Erik from my heart. Nathan, the fight for justice, the injustice of our system—all of it—cannot control my life anymore. Being stuck in that cycle of revictimization from 2017 up until this point has been hell.

No, no—worse than hell, an obsession that sucked the life from me.

My therapist says I was in the stage of grief called “finding meaning”, and I’d say she is right. But in that battle to find meaning I lost myself. I lost sight of my true purpose: to be a present wife, mom, family member, and best friend.

I hold a great deal of compassion for my old self. I feel tremendous sadness and sorrow for her. She was doing what she thought she had to do. For her parents. Erik’s friends. Survivors of violent crime.

For Erik.

But here’s what I’ve come to realize by slowing down and listening to that profound connection I have to him…

He doesn’t want any of it.

In fact, I have no doubt that the wars I’ve been waging are the opposite of what he wants for me.

He wants me to be happy, to love life, and live it to the fullest. Not for him.

For myself.

He wants me to have the life I deserve.

I feel Erik around me every single fucking day. I feel his pride and joy for me, and his readiness for me to walk away.

To take our wondrous thirteen years of memories with me wherever I go.

I’m ready to accept that.

But in order to do so, I cannot have his murder overshadowing my existence.

I know that it’s been hard for all of you to watch me suffer and struggle. I’m sure it brought on feelings of sadness, confusion, annoyance, anger, resentment—likely all of them at various points. It’s understandable.

If I were in your shoes…. God…

I love you, you guys.

I’m sorry.

What you went through in 1997—some more than others—was traumatic. Your childhood was robbed alongside my own. Thirteen-year-olds are not equipped to handle what we went through: searching for a missing loved one, murder, learning that you know the killers intimately, hiding details of her brother’s murder from your friend to preserve her shattering stability.

You were thrown into positions that required a maturity you didn’t yet have, to be my sentient rocks and pillars of strength.

You never batted an eye.

We are bonded by shared trauma, which is why, even when we’ve been at our worst—fights, mean words, hurtful actions, things uttered out of spite, holding onto resentments, punishing each other through silent treatment—our bond forged us back together.

I’ll always be hurt for the little girls we were and the chaos we were thrown into, how it shaped us and played a role in our connection.

I need you to know how immensely sorry I am that my brother’s murder took up so much of our thoughts, conversations, actions, and feelings—a dark cloud that hung over us all these years. The things I said and did out of grief was truly out of my control, yet still, I’m sorry you were sucked into its brutality and ugliness.

I will always have a hole in my heart over the loss of my brother, but I’m ready for that hole to be about him, not what happened to him.

I’m happy to be in this new headspace. As always, I invite you to join me on this healthy healing journey.

When you’re ready, just give me that, “Okay.”

My Christmas gift to you this year is a healthier friend—a friend who will stick with therapy and strive for mental growth and emotional healing.

Thank you for being by my side.

Thank you for sticking out the hardships with me.

Please give those thirteen-year-old girls you once were a monumental hug.

You guys clung to me and allowed me to cling to you in return. You’ve allowed my grip on you to be a chokehold at times, and it’s because of your willingness to stand with me in the muck—even when you didn’t want to—that has allowed me to get to this place.

Merry Christmas and Happy NEW year.

Dev

PS - Yes, the 9th will still be all-consuming for me.

Yes, if he is paroled, I will be filled with overwhelming mixed feelings—happiness that I’ll never have to worry about a parole hearing again, and sadness at our loss of what was promised.

I will grieve—but I will continue to work through it. Moment by moment. Day by day.

With all of you by my side.