I have learned that you must separate the crime from the love and memory of your loved one. The crime is evil and deserves to be lost and forgotten in the past, as much as possible. Leave it to die, as my sister was.

The love and memory of your loved one remains untouched, their life invested, what they have left behind, memories, smiles, words spoken, kindnesses given—the list goes on and on forever.

No evil can touch that.

So this is not about Dawn. We are not going to memorialize her on this trip, or celebrate the life of one of her children or grandchildren, or get together and circle around each other in memory and in love and survival-ship.

This whole thing pays tribute to a crime, its effect, and the sore lacking of the American criminal justice system.

So no wonder my reluctance to fold laundry, pack a suitcase, take care of the animals’ needs, etc. Although it must get done, and I will press on: this was the first lesson—you don’t get a choice, no matter how horrible.

It must seem normal: about 2 years past a homicide, and a sentencing. Friends must thing I’m ready for it or used to it by now. The phone isn’t ringing, and I don’t expect it to.

Well, I know one thing: by the end of today, God will have spoken. He does not let us alone for long. And then I will know peace, and Dawn’s love will be near, and I will move forward in trust and in courage.

And somehow, God help us, we’ll just know.