Four years. It’s hard to fathom, isn’t it? Four years since my world fell apart. Little Ian has now been dead as long as he was alive. How can that be? The light of his life still seems so bright and shining,. At least it does to me.
Several people have asked if we had plans to mark the day in some way. We took flowers out to the gravesites on Sunday, but the anniversary is a painful day to face. Mala and I would rather celebrate their birthdays, which we can remember with joy, than plan any kind of big production around the murders. (That doesn’t mean we forget, of course. It’s not something that can BE forgotten. That’s written in with indelible ink – written across the sky with letters of fire.)
Besides, we spent the day in the Pomona courthouse waiting for a verdict. There was one point when the jury sent out a question asking if they had to give the same verdict in all 3 counts. That made me a little hopeful that they were close to the finish line, but 4:30 came around with still no result. And so we wait. Back again tomorrow to prowl the corridor and nod at Ling’s family as we head to our “designated” benches. The whole thing is surreal. Monkey