Useless Words

Tomorrow is the six month anniversary of my brother's death. Tomorrow, one of the people who killed him is being sentenced to 92 months in prison. I have tried and failed to write about what the legal process has been like for me. It's been heart-wrenching. It's given me whiplash more than once. It makes me question basic human decency. And it's only over for one of them.

The most significant change since I heard the whole story, since the charges for Vehicular Homicide were handed down, is that I have stopped thinking "my brother died" and have started thinking "my brother was killed". It seems like a small thing but the correct words make a world of difference. I don't have the correct words. That's why this is the fourth draft of this blog post I've written this month. It's why I didn't write a victim impact statement. The judge can't increase the sentence because the defendant took a plea deal, so my words will not affect his jail time. I do hate the people who did this but it is not the kind of hate that fuels me or stirs me to action. It is a useless, sad, tired hate. The kind of hate that won't be made better by seeing Meekins' face, by humanizing or dehumanizing him, by trying to make him feel guilty or express remorse before he goes to prison. I don't think it would work, anyway. He hasn't done either in his hearings so far.

It's not as if this is justice, anyway. I do not want these people who use cars as weapons indiscriminately to be allowed on the streets, but that doesn't mean that either of them going to prison is justice for my brother being killed. It isn't. There isn't any justice.

The lawyer told us that the victim impact statement was "really about honoring Jason". By trying to sum up and speak out in a court of law what my only sibling meant to me and what my life looks like now that he is gone. By trying desperately to make people who don't care about my individual story or his individual life, care. I don't believe that would honor Jason. I believe I honored him with puns and stories and glitter and enormous hugs at his memorial, his wake, and at the 100 Days. I believe I honored him by giving up on changing the past and just grieving for the person and the future that was lost. I believe I honor him by thinking about him every day, and by trying to live my life without him even though I still have no idea what that looks like.

I worship words, but I don't have the correct words for this. I don't have any words for this. Pain renders words useless.