“With all due respect, I want to see what they did to my husband.” Those were Erika Kirk’s words when prompted by the sheriff not to look at Charlie’s body after the shooting that killed him. Not only was she acting in opposition to protocol, but what she did amounts to an act of bearing witness, celebrating her husband’s life and death in possibly the most intimate manner possible.
It’s been less than two weeks since the tragedy at the Turning Point USA event in Utah, and Erika wears the little St. Michael’s pendant medics removed from Charlie’s neck while they attempted to stem the bleeding. The little icon, still bearing the remnants of his blood, is kept close to her heart. To her, it is no simple piece of jewelry but a holy relic, a tangible connection to the man she loved and to the faith that they shared. In Catholicism, St. Michael is the protector archangel from evil; for Erika, that symbolism can’t be separated from Charlie’s last moments.
Her decision to see his body, to kiss him once more, is but a reflection of what grief counselors say is the immense importance of last goodbyes. Mourning studies show that being able to witness a goodbye ceremony-whether at a funeral or beside a bed-enables the bereaved to fully realize the finality of loss and start the painful process of recuperation. As one participant in a study of the bereaved explained, The celebration of the funeral… was liberating because it was a way to accompany her and to let her know that we had never abandoned her. Erika’s own farewell is a profoundly personal rite of passage, too, as his “semi-open eyes” and “Mona Lisa-like half-smile” that she reported looked as if “he’d died happy. Like Jesus rescued him.”
Faith serves as a lifeline at such times. Many bereaved in death certificates of violent or unanticipated death say that spiritual faith anchors them while bereavement is an unmoored fall. A widower mentioned that after a meeting with Pope Francis, he came to realize, “Either you lose your faith or you strengthen it.” For Erika, the necklace is solace and a statement of faith that Charlie is in heaven, his soul with God. The same thought has been corroborated by grief counselors: to think of the loved one in the hereafter can turn pain into resilience, allowing the grieving to move on without feeling they’ve left the person behind.
Yet, mourning reshuffles life in some unpredictable way. Erika acknowledges she cannot enter their bedroom and changes nightly which bed she sleeps in. She also has not done laundry on the towels from Charlie’s last shower. Therapists describe these rituals as a form of “continuing bonds” clinging to physical remains as means of staying connected. While such keepsakes can be salutary, practitioners also warn that when such rituals interferes with an individual resuming life, this may be a signal for subtle intervention to avoid further traumatizing.
The violent, sudden nature of Charlie’s death places Erika’s grieving in the realm of what therapists term traumatic grief-a mix of loss and trauma that heightens symptoms such as insomnia, hypervigilance, and intrusive thoughts. Survivors under those conditions often find comfort in structured ways of coping: budgeting “controlled grief” time to cry or pray, support from close friends or spiritual communities, and clinging to routines for the reestablishment of normalcy.
Religious symbols, like Erika’s pendant, have a particularly powerful function in this process. Objects carry with them a physical sense of the loved one’s values, beliefs, and presence. Sometimes they are an armor against despair-a way of carrying both memory and meaning along. As one bereavement counselor relates, It’s about making meaning of the death and who they are now… People will still feel sadness, but it’s coupled with gratitude for having shared time. Erika feels that every day, she must make her way across the murky river of sorrow. The pendant against her chest serves for more than a token of tragedy-a message of love, faith, and the determination to go on when the heart seems to break.
