There are days, more than few, that I simply cannot grasp the concept of death. The reality of it. The finality of it. The depth of the scar it has left. The impression it has stamped on the rest of my days. How can five simple letters form to make a word that holds so much meaning?
In truth, I have become a master at slapping a smile on my face and going about my days. I know enough to tell people that I am “doing okay” when they ask. In reality it could very well be the same moment that I am reminding my lungs to take in breath. I don’t feel it has gotten easier. The missing hasn’t receded. I miss him more this day than I did yesterday and the day before. It still breaks me to know that his life was cut so short and that I will never understand why…not in this life anyway…
I went home last weekend to visit my mom and my brother. As we pull into the house, his car is missing. I immediately tell myself that he had to run out to work or that he is on his way back from the cities buying groceries at the Italian Deli he loved so much. As the minutes tick by, I wait. He never comes. I climb into bed with a heavy body. All I wanted that night is to sit across from him and tell him about all of the big plans I have for my future. Instead, they swirl throughout my head until eventually I drift off to sleep. The next day, we go boutique shopping. My entire family meets and tears start to sting my eyes. One person is missing. I say to myself what I repeat 100 times a day…”not now Krysta”…My mom mentions that he would have loved to have been with us this day and we laugh at how he would’ve come home with soap and candles. We found drawers and drawers of soap and candles after he left…
The next day my mom drops me off at the airport through hurried goodbyes. I don’t want her driving home in the dark and it’s supposed to rain soon. I tell her to just drop me off at the door. I am reminded of the last time I was home before he left. They would stand and wave until I got through security. That time, for reasons unknown to me, I tell them not to wait. I remember my dad’s face when I said it. And so they left and I watched them go and I felt a twinge of pain in not having them there to wave me through…
So, this day, I look and she is not there and neither is he and all I can think is how I wish, so much, how I would give anything to have him standing there. Tears fall as I pass through the gate and the woman says, “Goodbyes are always hard.” If she only knew.
So I continue walking…the whole while talking to him telling him how much I miss and love him… how I wish there was a way to bring him back to us. For a split millisecond, life seems simple again…in that second my only hope is that someway, somehow…he can hear me…

* Milwaukee, 2007. One of my most favorite pictures. *

I was going to try really really hard and wait to post her perfect little face, but I’m an instant gratification girl and I just couldn’t do it. Her and I fell asleep on the couch this weekend at my parents house. My brother was packing up the car getting ready to go. I was hoping he and Reanna would just forget her and then I would have been forced to take her home with me. No such luck. So close. So close. No pictures of Mr. Luka this time as he wasn’t feeling well and in NO mood to have his picture taken sooo maybe next time.
I mean seriously…how gorgeous is this child?!
So many loves for you Ayla doll..
~ Auntie K

When Stacy and I were in high school, we used to pile into her dad’s old Lincoln, stop at the gas station to stock up and the something salty and something sweet treats, and blast the Dixie Chicks. Many times I would have my feet hanging out the window as we drove on country roads singing at the top of our lungs. It only seemed fitting that we would choose the same roads we traveled so many years ago for her shoot. How I miss those days…
These images take my breath away. She was beautiful back then, but she has grown to be one of the most beautiful women I know…

I could eat my body weight in chocolate daily if permitted. I do not sit still long. I’m a dreamer. Endlessly. My mind is programmed to Spin Cycle. Some days I wonder if I will ever be able to catch up to it. I wish I could sew. Visions of pretty 50′s dresses dance in my mind. I would love to make them come to life, but I’m afraid I haven’t got the patience. I also wasn’t given the gene of decisiveness so for me to actually make a decision could well possibly take years. I wish I were kidding. I have enough polka-dotted wrapping paper to divvy up to an entire country. I wish I had been born in the 70′s. My life is documented in post-it notes. I am forever writing song lyrics, ideas, funny quotes, movies I want to see, to-do’s that need to be done…you name it…it’s written somewhere on a post-it. That’s a guarantee. I adore art. I will never buy art just to buy it. It moves me, I make the purchase, and then I find the most perfect-est spot for it. I love love to travel. I think this goes back to not being able to sit still long. This world we live in is a beautiful place and I want to be able to see it for myself. Somewhere, you know there’s a post-it with a list of places I desire to visit. I believe there is more good than bad, lessons in tragedy, and a beautiful ever after waiting for us after our time here is done…
Truths.
Honest to goodness truths.

And another. I’m not a huge fan of having my picture taken. This annoys Brady. So last weekend as Brady and I wrestled over my camera, Michael took sides with his Daddy yelling, “Yeah….wwweee’rreee going to take YOUR picture.” He said it so tauntingly it scared me. I am certain this was his payback for me sticking a camera in his face 1,426,378 times a day. I can’t blame him. So, it ended in a sweet surrender and I think Brady did a pretty good job.
Still, I told him not to get used to it! :)

Flying to Minnesota tomorrow so for all you wonderful people there, hopefully I see you!

Much Love,
Krysta

Oh I dunno…I suppose it could have been the black and white polka-dot vintage dress with fuschia tights or the huge sequined flower clip she had in her hair or the fact that her stage set looked like something straight out of an Anthropologie store or the charming Australian accent or maybe it’s because when I met her she said, “Hey pretty girl!” or it could just be the fact that she’s absolutely adorable and has the most beautiful voice ever. I’m not sure, but either way I heart her and you should too. I might even want to marry her.

* Skipalong – my favorite song off of her new album LENKA *
* Image courtesy of Google images *