Karmin

Previously posted on TinyLetter

Writing to you with a tinge of grief today.

I have mentioned before that I had a step-dad from the ages of three to thirteen. While he was in my life, I had two step-sisters that would come to visit every summer. One of which, Karmin, became my best friend. Only three years in age difference, she was quite literally my everything. I was always watching and learning from her; hoping in some weird step-sister way to be her.

After our parents divorced, we lost contact. It was mostly before the age of the internet, and long distance phone calls were an actual cost. Life would take us in two entirely different directions. It wasn’t until this week that I found myself reflecting on our time together and the way I soaked up her presence every summer for a decade. 

This week, I found out Karmin died from a suspected drug overdose now ruled negligent homicide. There is no one way to describe the pool of grief I found myself in after hearing this. There is no lock on the door of time and memory, and everything I ever felt for my step-sister came rushing back. I immediately reached out to my other step-sister, Kristin, to connect and grieve together. We both concluded, in a way I guess you can’t really know unless you have lived the cycle of addiction alongside someone you love, that Karmin is now at peace. She is home with herself and, at last, whole. She leaves behind a wealth of love in the form of four children.

Below is an excerpt I wrote as a way of therapeutically honoring her presence in my life.

Now I know what it feels like to lose someone that’s like a piece of who you are. 

A decade of my life was spent chasing after her light. Both of our lives were upended in some way or another but we always got a summer together. Pool side, living room, making stupid videos about things like “Molly Rule A lot” – a ruler named Molly and she was your new toy you would love. Or videos about shitting your pants and, oh no, you should probably try this new medicine. Think Bean-o. 

And now I’m on this side of life, knowing I lived in a world with Karmin Jones at some very pivotal 
parts of my young life. My world existed with her and now the world exists without her. I’m so utterly devastated to know this. 

There’s also this part of me that just wants to scream. Karmin was handed such a shitty lot in life. I only found out recently we were both sexually assaulted by the same person: her dad. So there’s this part of me that knows I healed from something so painful and traumatic … and she didn’t. In turn, that trauma kept her from seeing how I saw her and will always see her. 

Karmin was smart, hilarious, beautiful, the light I wanted to bask and be in. I loved and love her so much. It’s been so long since I’ve heard her speak but I can recall her voice like it was yesterday. That soft, light southern twang. 

I will miss her forever. 



What I’ve learned this week is the depths that grief can carve in a person. I have grieved so many different things in my life but nothing like losing a part of who you were – and in some sense – are. I think that is the really beautiful thing about existence as humans: our connections to one another are so much more meaningful than we could ever truly pinpoint. And like the old adage goes, “not until they’re gone” do we understand this.

Love well and deeply, friends.

 

Namaste & Tenderness
xo B