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There is little I can do to make sense of the events of last week. I may be able to piece together the details but that is about all I can manage. Monday night 5/7/12 I was in New York, staying at a hotel near JFK airport when an unrecognized home-town number came up on my cell. Because I had an early morning flight, I ignored the call.
5:00am Eastern, my alarm sounds, I get out of bed, get ready and head to the airport. On my way I check my voicemail.
“Hey, Corinna – It’s Phil. It’s very important you call me as soon as you get this – any time. Call me, call Kenyon, call Christine.”
And that was it… Panic ran through me like an electric shock. What was wrong? Was my husband okay? I had talked to him before I went to bed, hadn’t I? And had the ignored call come before or after I talked to him? I called Phil. No answer. I left a quick message “I’m in New York on business, heading to Pittsburgh. It’s about 3am your time. Call me as soon as you can.” I called home. It rang, and rang, and rang. Finally I hear my husband’s groggy voice.
“Matt, thank GOD – you’re okay?”
“Yeah, it’s late”
“Phil called and left me an urgent message – is there anything wrong? Have you heard from him, Kenyon or Christine?”
“No, I’m sleeping”
“Okay honey. I love you. I’ll let you know if I find anything out. Check your messages and let me know if there’s anything there?”
“Okay, love you… goodbye”
Relief sinks in. My love is okay. Something may be wrong but it can’t be that bad. Perhaps it wasn’t something so awful afterall. But then there was Phil’s shaky voicemail message… He sounded devastated. I dropped my car off at Hertz, forgetting to fuel up, and headed to the airport to fly to Pittsburgh and my four meetings at GNC headquarters.
Jess picks me up at the airport and we head for a couple of GNC locations prior to our back-to-back meetings at corporate. My phone rings. It’s Phil.
“Hi Phil, What’s going on?”
“So you haven’t heard yet? We tried to call Matt. We couldn’t reach him. I’m so sorry I didn’t pick up your call earlier.”
“That’s fine Phil – it was like 3 in the morning your time. What’s going on?”
“Corinna, I really hate to be the bearer of such terrible news. Shannon was murdered on Monday”
DISBELIEF
“Wait, what? JESS PULL OVER. Phil – You mean Shannon Collins? Shannon was KILLED? What happened?”
*sigh* “Some guy randomly stabbed her to death. She was walking to get her hair cut mid-day on Monday, just down Broadway from downtown. They caught the guy.” *sob*
“WHAT?!? Phil, I’m in Pittsburgh. What can I do? I’ll get home… early. Where’s Ken? What can I do? Who’s with Ken?”
PANIC
UNCONTROLLABLE TEARS
I don’t remember how the call ended. I just remember the panic and shock. The feeling of utter and complete helplessness. The fact that nothing I did, nothing I could do would make this situation stop. There was no pause or rewind button. We were all stuck… it did not compute. I stopped crying for a second. Did I thank Phil? It must have been so hard to call, so hard to tell me all that. How many calls has he had to make. SHOCK.
I call Matt. It’s now 6am Pacific. He answers, groggy again.
“Honey, I have to tell you something right now, it’s important”
“Can it wait, I’m sleeping”
“No honey, it can’t wait. You need to wake up. It’s Shannon. Ken needs you. Shannon was murdered yesterday. Phil tried to call you, no one could reach you.”
“WHAT?! Shannon? No. What about Ken?”
“I know honey, you have to get up and get to Ken. I’m in Pittsburgh. I’ll come as soon as I can. I love you.”
“I love you. Oh god. Ken…” Sobbing, he hangs up.
I cry for a while, without a whimper. Then SHOCK settles in again and brings out the business in me. I’m still in Pittsburgh, so far from home – and I had a reason for being here. I could still have those meetings if I rallied. “Jess, I think we should get a cup of coffee. I’ll settle myself and we can get to the GNC meetings. I can get through today – and head home tomorrow”.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
As Jess drives to a nearby Starbucks, I begin reading the coverage in the Santa Cruz Sentinel online. The name of the victim who was murdered on Broadway street on 5/7/12 is not released. They have her age and neighborhood wrong, but I know that Phil shared the truth, that Shannon is gone.
I remember the first day I met Shannon. As I crested the hill to Social Sciences II at UCSC, I noticed a girl with her hair pulled back, smoking a cigarette in long draws, a backpack over one shoulder, wearing a flannel jacket. We shared a smoke together, and realized we were in the same class. It was our first day of the quarter, January 1997. [This is her on the right, same jacket, same hair]
PANIC
She’s dead? she can’t be dead. She CAN’T be dead. murdered? IMPOSSIBLE.
Meetings. I don’t know how I got through them, but I did.
Flight back to JFK. Hotel for the night. Flight back to SFO early AM.
HOME. Shower. Change.
Drive to Ken & Shannon’s.
I see Ken, go to him, hug him, cry. It’s real.
She’s gone.
SHOCK. www.rememberingshannon.com
I love you honey
Corinna! I am sorry for you loss. This is a wonderful way to express your feelings.
Thank you,
Nicole