Yours for Eternity: A Love Story on Death Row Page 6
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I still love writing to you—even more, now. I’m still not quite brave enough to say some things to you, but I feel so comfortable writing to you.
Yours,
Lorri
July 9, 1996
My dearest Lorri,
Everything is so hectic right now. I don’t think I can stand it. No one understands anything. It seems that the whole world is so cold, so unfeeling. I’m thinking of going into “seclusion” for a while, maybe forever. I just don’t even feel like talking to anyone anymore, it’s so much trouble, it’s shattering my nerves and tearing me apart. Except for you. You’re the only one I even want to talk to or think about anymore. You’re the only one who understands. You’re my hiding place from the world. You’re a complete, separate universe that I can escape to.
*
I should have seen this coming, but I was blind as usual. You’re absorbing me, but you’re also giving me back pieces of myself that I had lost for so, so long. It’s so painful, but so pleasant at the same time. I don’t know what comes next, but I surrender everything to spirit, to let it happen as it will, and I will enjoy every minute of it. I have gotten drunk off of this entire experience; my entire being is reeling from the bliss of it.
Sending love forever to my dearest one,
Damien
July 11, 1996
Dearest Lorri,
Do you have pierced ears? I was just curious; mine have been pierced since 5th grade.
It never occurred to me to ask you before, but what’s your middle name?
What’s your favorite color?
What size shoes do you wear? Mine are size 13. I have very large feet for someone my size.
I won’t bother you with any more stupid questions. I’ll close for now. Thinking of and missing you, sending love forever to my dear one.
D.
July 15, 1996
My dearest Lorri,
You made me so happy today that there is no way I could express it, because I read some things in your letters that said things that I wanted to say, but couldn’t bring myself to say. My mind is racing so fast, my hand can’t keep up.
First off, let me explain about the physical contact. I’m not “above” it as you thought, because I constantly have a thought that goes around in my head—I know how you love to sleep, and there is nothing in the world that I want to do more than be able to hold you while you sleep, to watch over you, to be able to press my lips to your head and breathe in all those beautiful, magickal things that wander through your dreams. I would love to be able to trace the features of your face with my fingers, to kiss your hands. I am not talking about lust, because this is as far from lust as you could get. I would love to be able to fall asleep with my arms around you. It’s just too hard to explain; the only way I know how to express it is: “For you, I would forsake everything, I would drop everything and follow you to the ends of the earth, because you are as much a part of me as my own heart and blood, you are me.”
Secondly, I have thought many, many times, “If I was to only have one child, why could it have not been with Lorri?” That child would be something that I long to be—half of you and half of me. I wouldn’t have even minded the morning sickness, I would have cherished it because it would have been part of you that I would be able to express with my physical body. I’ve thought a lot about the way I used to hold Domini while she was pregnant, the way I would trace my hands over her stomach for hours at a time, and thought, “How much more wonderful could it have been if it would have been Lorri?” Am I making sense at all? I know I’m not, but I still know that you will understand.
I cannot possibly explain how big a part of me you have become. It’s like now my entire universe is comprised of nothing but you.
Sending more love than you can imagine to my dearest one,
D.
July 15, 1996
My Dearest Damien,
My whole conception of love has changed, too. It really is all-powerful—I never had any idea—it transcends all of my “limitations”—time, distance, lifetime, physical need, jealousy, fear (the big one), commitment. None of those things matter when it comes to pure love—and I am just now learning this—from and with you. And I thought I had learned so much in this life—I thought I could live through anything—and here you are—to humble me, and to make me see how much one really can endure—and still be at peace.
I love you so much,
Lorri
July 18, 1996
My dearest,
You don’t know how much I loved the questions you asked—yes, I have pierced ears—although I haven’t worn earrings or any other jewelry for a long time.
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I got my ears pierced in the fifth grade, too!!!
My middle name is Ann. I think I know yours—it’s Wayne, isn’t it?
My favorite color is blue—what is yours? I also like all shades of gray.
I wear a size 6 shoe—
And no—those aren’t stupid questions—I love them. I always want to ask you questions like that, too.
*
I would love to go out and about with you! Damien, we could have so much fun. And yes, you must see Scott Depot and I must see West Memphis! And yes, you will eat vegetables. Yes, you will. You will. Maybe just a little broccoli—it’s really good.
I’ve never roamed around before. Being the hermit and homebody that I am. I’ve always wanted to do it, too, just skulk about with no particular place to go.
Sending much love,
Lorri
postscript, 2014
So much of what I was doing at this time involved ritual, or anything I could do to make Damien feel physically close to me, and to make the letters special for Damien. I addressed every envelope with a fountain pen using sepia ink, I kissed the back of each letter so that a lipstick mark would show, I opened each of Damien’s letters from the right side, and I wrote a little message underneath each stamp. The stamps themselves had to be special in some way, too—no American flags or roses.
Looking back, that we were becoming so close very quickly was something I dove headlong into. There were definitely instinctual voices telling me that pain was coming, that I should slow down and think about the decisions I was making, but I was in it, and it was full-on rush. My feelings for Damien took over my life.
Somehow, I was able to continue living my professional life and to function in the world—getting up on time, performing at my job, even working sixty-hour weeks at times, but Damien was with me always.
I was very emotional at this time. I often felt unhinged, swinging way out of control. It lasted for a year or so, but I was always capable of keeping stability at the same time. I would learn over the years how to temper my emotions, but I’ll never forget the headiness of the first visits, and the extremes of falling in love with a person who I couldn’t be with, and who was in such peril. I knew it then, as I know it now: It was what I was made for. Damien is who I had searched for my whole life.
Lorri
July 22, 1996
My Dearest Lorri,
How could I have been so stupid? I feel like such a loser. I forgot to tell you happy birthday.
It was a strange chain of events that led me to remember. I was sitting here listening to the radio and reading the astrology book. I was reading about my ruling planet, which is Jupiter, and a guy comes on the radio and says, “This next one, by Mozart, is called ‘Jupiter.’” I immediately stopped reading, and picked up your letters, which are always lying right beside me, and while I was listening, I began to wonder why all your stamps are upside down, then I remembered . . .
“Secret messages!!!” So I began peeling the stamps off, reading about when you were 6 years old, and I was completely absorbed by it, then the next stamp I peeled off said, “Today is my birthday,” and my heart just sank. I said,
“How could I not have remembered?” Then I immediately ran back to the phone and tried to call you, but you’re not home, so now I’m writing this letter. I feel so bad, how could I have not said something? I’m so, so sorry. I can’t believe I was so stupid.
Love forever to my dearest one,
D.
July 23, 1996
My Dearest Lorri,
It’s driving me insane that I won’t be able to talk to you tonight. I miss you so much. I just keep thinking about how I will get to talk to you face-to-face in just 4 days. I can’t believe it. I’m going to try not to cry when you leave, but I can’t promise anything. I’ll just be glad when this is over, and we can sit and talk for as long as we want, about anything we want, with no glass between us, and no phone that cuts off in 15 minutes. It’ll be so great. But until then . . . I see you in 4 days!!!
I was also thinking about what you said about there being so much in New York that you wanted to show me, and I formed a plan. As soon as I get out of that courtroom, I’m going to the nearest phone I can find. I will call and tell you I’m free, and I’m on my way. Then I’ll go straight to the bus station (I’m not flying anywhere unless I can fly with you) and off I will go. I’ve only ever ridden the bus once before, all the way from Oregon to Arkansas, and I thought it was pretty fun. I wonder which is farther away, New York or Oregon? It seems like Oregon would be. A long, long road trip. That sounds so wonderful after having sat here in one place for so long. When I was on the bus, I didn’t even get carsick for some reason. Maybe it’s because it’s so much different from being in a car. Can you drive? I don’t think I could force myself to do it. It’s scary. Listen to how I’m rambling on. I didn’t think I was nervous or excited.
*
I can feel everything here coming to a climax, I can feel it with every part of my being, that’s why I believe so very strongly that I’ll be out of here soon. And I can’t wait; I’m just so excited. It may sound strange, but until you found me again, I was a little afraid of being released after being here for so long. But now, I can’t wait, because I know that with you, there are so many more wonderful things in store. I would love to take you to the lake by which I used to live, and just sit quietly with you all night, watching the light reflect off the water, thinking. And I want so bad to be able to see the town where you grew up, to be able to see the very place that you were born. It would be wonderful.
Sending so much love forever to my dearest one,
D.
July 24, 1996
My Dearest Lorri,
I wish I could just explain what you mean to me, but it’s impossible. I can’t put it into words. I have to try, when I talk to you on the phone tonight, to explain myself, but I know I will fail miserably. Maybe if I try to write it and explain it, I can somehow make you understand at least a little.
So here goes, this is the only thing I can think of: For so long now, the quote, “In my darkest hour, grace did not shine on me” was my philosophy, my outlook on life; it became my “trademark.” But now I realize that the only way I could say such a thing is because I was blind. All the time, grace was shining on me, and it was shining more brightly than a spotlight, and the only reason I couldn’t see it was because it shone so brightly that I had to close my eyes to it, or it would have burned them out, as if I had been gazing directly into the sun. My eyes were closed so that I couldn’t see it, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there all the same. Now, it’s as if my eyes have been opened, and I can actually see, and everything is so beautiful that it couldn’t even begin to be described by the human tongue.
For so long, I kept asking, “Why is this happening to me? I haven’t done anything to be punished like this.” But once again, I was only able to say that because I was blind. Now I see that it’s not a punishment, it’s a reward! It’s the reward of a thousand lifetimes, and now I ask myself, “What have I ever done to deserve a reward like this?” And I’m more happy than I’ve ever been in my life, in any life. And I’m more thankful than anyone could ever imagine. It’s as if now I truly know how the saints felt when they were completely swept up in ecstasy, in bliss, and they would form the stigmata of Christ on their own hands and feet, or be able to hear the angels whispering, or even singing to them. I know how it feels. And I know that nothing else matters, because grace did shine on me and you are my grace, and I love you for it. Maybe I can explain it a little better when I talk to you tonight. Maybe you’ll understand. I know you will.
Sending love forever to my dearest,
Damien
July 24, 1996
My dearest Damien,
I can’t believe when you read this, we will already have seen each other. I wonder how we will feel. It’s funny, writing this . . . I feel like a fortune teller—I know the future—when in fact, I don’t know it at all. Maybe there’ll be an earthquake while we are together, and the walls of the prison will crumble around us and we’ll just walk out together, and you’ll never even see this letter.
*
Please don’t be upset about me saying I may scare you—I don’t mean my physical appearance—I know you better than that—I know why you love me, I just think sometimes seeing something that you’ve only had in your imagination can be jarring—and I must say I use the word “scare” in my own special way—let me think of an example . . . OK—since we’ve spoken of them—praying mantises kind of scare me and I truly love them. Does that help?
*
We should both try to read a book together, something we both love, or that we have never read—we could read 10 pages a day or something—(because I am so slow and you would finish so quickly). Think of a book—so will I—I love doing anything that will synch us up even more—if I could breathe in the air you breathe or wear your clothes, I would. Maybe we could read Interview with the Vampire, since I’ve never read it. What do you think? I’m going to read it, anyway.
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I know that you will be the only one who truly understands me, Damien. This, I know. There is no doubt. You already do—and I understand you. All my life I have been so sad that no one could see me, or hear what I was saying, sometimes so quietly, sometimes screaming at the top of my lungs. But you know. You are my true one. And I’m so happy and feel that all the pain and struggles were worth it.
Thank you a million times.
Thank you for enduring.
*
This letter has now spanned from Tuesday night to Wednesday morning.
Sending much love to you,
L.
July 29, 1996
My Dearest Lorri,
Today is Saturday, the day after I saw you in person for the first time. I couldn’t write last night, I just had to lie and think. I don’t even really know what I was thinking, I was just drifting, feeling you. You are very beautiful, but still so simple at the same time. I don’t even know what I mean by “simple”; it just seems as if you are so “uncomplicated.” It hurt me to see the way you had chewed your fingers. I just wanted to kiss them, to kiss the places where you had chewed the skin away.
I felt extremely frantic twice. Once was when you began to cry, and the other was when you had to leave. I felt so desperate, there was nothing I could do, and it was ripping me apart. I couldn’t even touch you, I couldn’t do anything to make you feel better, and because of that I was in agony. It was a sense of desperation that was so close to being overpowering that for a second I thought I would lose all control. When you had to leave, I just wanted to scream, “No, no, no, no.” But I knew that if I ever started, then I would never be able to stop. I could see it very clearly in my mind: I would have been sitting in the corner with my head in my hands, eyes clenched shut, mouth in the shape of a perfect “O,” just screaming and screaming, but not being able to hear myself. The only thing that kept me sane was knowing that one day soon there will be no glass wall, and no one to come in and say it’s time to leav
e, and no one on either side of us constantly making noise. That’s the only thing that kept me sane. Seeing you walk out the door was the worst pain I have ever felt. At that moment, I would rather have gone blind than to have to see you leave.