Just laying things out. I am a bitch of the first order. And I know how to use rhetoric. This combination has not worked out so well thus far. But I’m not wrong and I won’t be bullied.

This post is one of loss, sorrow, and anger. Pain beyond expressing.

Primal, guttural growls issued from my mouth. I was alone. This is how I grieve over the loss of a beautiful young woman, my only child, who was trapped in her apartment by an arsonist’s cruel yet impersonal fire. It ingulfed the complex with dark red licks of flame, and thick black smoke.

Her life hadn’t been easy, and she was finally more functional. She was working and had just gotten her own efficiency and confidence back.

No way out, she waited for the fire in the bathtub filled with water. She died four days later.

So I’m told I should not grieve in public, it makes people uncomfortable. In the same breath they tell me I’ll never recover from her untimely death.

I think I will take one day at a time, but nobody better tell me I “need to let her go.” Hell, she’s gone! Never shall I in this life see her face, never ever ever again in this life.

She lives in my memory and the memories of those who loved her. And she was deeply loved by her community in Portland, OR.

This blog has run out of steam. Only so much truth, only so many questions.

The pain becomes acute, you double over, sobbing loudly, barely able to breathe. How appropriate. She died ultimately of lung damage. But, she might not have survived the burns, as there was something unusual about them, “very deep, very bad.”

What burned so fiercely that her wounds were so severe? And why was there not an approved, accessible second means of ingress and egress?

The pain is in my head now. I must put down the electronic device. G’night world. G’night stars, G’night moon..

G’night Sarah Jean Pumpkin Queen, prettiest girl I have ever seen.