Well, it has been missing over the past two weeks. Actual living can erase all thoughts of death and dying. For most, that is kind of a good thing. Why worry about it?
For me, it is not so good. I am supposed to be pounding out the pages on my manuscript, but lately I haven't been motivated to do so. I've had sick kids, I adopted an adorable little kitten who is hell bent on destroying every piece of furniture I own, and my actual day job has been demanding lately.
But, that all ended yesterday. In August, I contacted a death row inmate named Khristian Oliver. My reason? A death row inmate is the only person, besides someone intent on killing themselves, who actually knows the date and approximate time of their death. When I polled people about knowing when they were going to die, most said they'd rather not know. So, I was curious. Mr. Oliver didn't scare me. Yes, he killed someone (and no I don't condone killing people) but there was something about him that made me feel I could approach him. So, I wrote him a letter. He replied and politely declined to be interviewed. I accepted that and didn't pursue anyone else. It's a weird line of questioning I'm going after and quite frankly, it's an uncomfortable spot to be in.
Yesterday, I got a letter from him out of the blue. It actually made me cry. It was simple and straightforward and honest. Without him actually saying it, I saw his loss of hope. He has accepted his fate.
Now I am desperately trying to figure out the best way to interview him. Time is running out. His execution date is November 5, 2009.