Remembering Lucy


I posted about Lucy twice last year: when she was beaten and when she died, two months after she was beaten. The October 2012 post is below. I’m remembering Lucy this weekend, a year after her husband of over 20 years essentially took her life. I think about her a lot, and about all women who are in violent marriages or relationships from which they believe there is no exit, no escape.

I found this video online, and it just seemed appropriate for this weekend.

For those of you who read my blog regularly, you may recall a post from August. You can read it here. A woman with whom I’d worked for over ten years, from 1988 to 1999, died yesterday, two months after her husband beat her severely. He then drove to the farm where he worked and hanged himself. Lucy never regained consciousness. Yesterday, at Home and Hospice Care of Rhode Island, Lucy died.

According to the National Coalition Against Domestic Violence:

  • One in every four women will experience domestic violence in her lifetime.
  • An estimated 1.3 million women are victims of physical assault by an intimate partner each year.
  • 85% of domestic violence victims are women.
  • Historically, women have been most often victimized by someone they knew.
  • Females who are 20-24 years of age are at the greatest risk of nonfatal intimate partner violence.
  • Most cases of domestic violence are never reported to the police.
  • Boys who witness domestic violence are twice as likely to abuse their own partners and children when they become adults.

October is Domestic Violence Awareness month. But what does it mean, aside from a purple ribbon?  There is a campaign called “NO MORE,” a simple idea with the power to unleash new, major  attention to the people who are hurt – directly or indirectly — by domestic violence and sexual assault every day and every minute.  With a new symbol, the goal is to end the stigma, shame and silence that often accompany domestic violence.

I’m thinking of Lucy, and a life ended way too soon. A bright light dimmed, but never forgotten. Rest in peace, bonita Lucilia.