Desperately finding closure

Closure: as defined in the dictionary…

·         The act of closing or the state of being closed: closure of an incision.

·         Something that closes or shuts.

·         A bringing to an end; a conclusion: finally brought the project to closure.

·         A feeling of finality or resolution, especially after a traumatic experience.

Pike River chief executive Peter Whittall said ‘the inquiry had been about getting some closure for the families.’  Police Association President Greg O’Connor “stated that the…sentencing of Stephen McDonald for the armed, P-fuelled rampage that led to the accidental killing of Halatau Naitoko on Auckland’s motorway brings those involved one step closer to closure…”. 

However, this ‘closure’ is far from the truth, as most people who have been affected by homicide will agree.

Sentencing, counseling, getting back to work, finding god, or some spiritual space within which to make sense of the sudden death of loved ones may be achievable in such cases as the Pike River Mine, however, I am sure that as the process unfolds and more questions are posed ‘closure’ might become somewhat elusive for some.

Closure is near impossible for many victims of homicide. A life has wantonly been erased and those left behind are faced with questions that are underpinned by guilt and anger. As Noelene Oliver stated when asked about the guilty verdict of Clayton Weatherston “…there was never any real closure for the family who were left with constant reminders of what had happened”. When asked about closure re: the killing of teacher Barbara Julian during a burglary attempt, Lyn Nelson and Celia Eastman stated that “…sentencing was not closure but another step in the process.” 

The process of living with homicide I believe is beyond what the average man, women or child will ever experience in their lifetime. As the Homicide Victims site from Australia points out the pain that families and friends will experience is unique. Having lived with the murder of my partner’s son I can add my voice to the growing numbers of angry survivors of homicide. Even then my experience is not comparable to that of Jordan’s mother. We have been expected to ‘get over’ his murder, move on, and find solace in the 15 year sentence of his killer Quentin Duane Pukeroa. Whilst the sentence is part and parcel to the justice process, which one is forced to undertake because of the actions of a killer, it is not closure – there is no closure.

There are only ‘attempts’ to learn to live with the trauma that homicide brings. These attempts can more often than not be undermined by the justice system, that writes family and friends out of the process, sentences that never reflect the pain and anguish felt by those close to the murdered victim, by family and friends who feel its been long enough and you should move on, by political figures who wish their small rural town wasn’t in the spot light, and by the media who are only there for the sensational story and have moved on to pastures greener.

Those left behind, the mothers, fathers, lovers, siblings, aunties, uncles and friends are left clutching their grief. Victim Support runs out, the murdered victim becomes a statistic, rent and bills demand to be paid and siblings require feeding and love. There is no closure, there is a chasm that will one day be filled with the humdrum of life, but this chasm remains open and can erupt at birthdays, or at the lose of a key, or wallet, or when the stress of gardening reminds you that the garden you are lovingly tending is only in existence because you needed a distraction from the pain of the murder that happened along time ago. The hardest part and I am only speaking from my personal experience, is the realisation that tomorrow somewhere in ‘GODZONE’ another life will be taken - another family will face the pain of trying to find ‘closure’.