In Honorof Arionna

December 27, 2021, 11:28 p.m.

I placed the last phone call I would ever make to her. She was out that night. The conversation was brief, but my concern was obvious. I was irate. She was late. There were rumors, recent rumors, of an older man. “Okay, I’m sorry. I’ll be right there,” she replied.

I stepped onto the front porch to meet her. I had just finished laying the twins down. The street was quiet. I was fuming, already bracing for the encounter. Then a car I did not recognize pulled up to the curb. A man was driving. She was in the passenger seat. Seeing him, and that car, was enough to confirm what I had suspected, and it led to what I did next.

Adrenaline hit harder than anything I had known up to that point. In honesty, I was legally carrying at the time, and I did not hesitate to draw. I ordered her out of the vehicle and into the house. I told him that if he ever came near her again, it would be the last thing he did, and that from that moment on, he was never to be seen on my street again.

He pulled off.

Once I returned inside, I checked her pockets, her shoes, and her socks. Her mother searched her bra, her hair, and the inside of her pants. Nothing.

Relief settled over us. Briefly.

Three days later

It was roughly 11 a.m. I was working out, just about finished, and heading for the shower. The twins, their middle sister, and I were getting ready to go to the Scranton mall for the bounce house, the slides, and the aquarium. Then, suddenly, Arionna’s friend came running down the stairs, hysterical and difficult to understand. She finally got the words out, and they shattered everything that existed in that moment: “I just woke up, and Arionna’s blue and foaming at the mouth!”

My wife flew up the stairs, toppling Arionna’s friend in the process. I will never forget her mother’s scream, that unnerving screech of hopelessness. True desperation. Merciless despair.

When my wife and I found Arionna, she was blue and cold to the touch. We rushed to her aid. My wife lunged toward her as she lay on the bed, motionless. She grabbed her by the arm as I took her legs and torso, and together we moved her to the floor beside the bed. I started chest compressions. My wife gave rescue breaths. Arionna’s middle sister was told to call 911. We begged her heart to start, drenched in sweat and tears as we tried, but it was too late.

It was as if you could feel, even taste, the trauma in the air. Such a coldness. A surreal, chilling feeling that fractures your mind, rips out your heart, and tears your psyche into pieces. The “I can’t believe this. This isn’t happening. It’s not real, and we are going to wake up.” Lifelessness where there used to be so much life.

We explained what had happened to the authorities that day, and in the days that followed, including the altercation on December 27, just days earlier. Before they left, I called Arionna’s cell phone from my own so they could gather more information about what had happened. I spoke the only words that would come to mind as I handed him the device: “Find him before I do.”

On December 30, 2021, I lost someone vital to a drug overdose.

Her name was Arionna. She held a place in so many hearts. She was still becoming, and she was gone before the life she was building had a chance to stand.

As I write this, I remember the seven-hour conversations, the nights she could finally say who she was to an ear she trusted to have her back, like a person handing you the map of their inner life. Arionna was one of a kind. As magnetic as anyone I have ever known, and more precious than gems. Her energy was infectious, her smile sincere, her countenance beautiful, her character radiant. She shared her dreams, her goals, her interests, and her desires not as wishes, but as work she meant to finish. That energy still lives in the minds of those who cherish her most.

Arionna may no longer be physical in this world, but she is not absent. She is still with us, energetically.

I know there has been misinformation and disinformation surrounding this. The truth is that I became her biggest fan and a loyal supporter. I could really talk to her, as if our souls were picking up where we had left off in other lives. She used to say we were soulmates from the same soul group. She would say, “Jettie, we’re like best friends,” and I could not agree more.

I was going to get her an LLC, a guitar, drums, and recording equipment. I was going to help with her jewelry designs and her shoe line, and stand beside her until those ambitions were proof. Her life was tragically cut short, yet, ironically, she was ahead of her time. The world did not get the version of Arionna that was still on the way. But like minds can still come together and energetically embody the same things.