About a half hour after he left I needed to distract my self so I jumped on the computer and surfed a little, then I decided to go on facebook, that is where I saw the note, it was a public note, I read it, I reread it, and then I panicked. I ran out of the house to where I had hid the gun, and it was gone. I ran into the house and called the police, I don't remember what I told them but they took me seriously and had someone sent out to my house within minutes. I called a friend and he and his girlfriend came over quickly. There was GPS on my husband's phone and he was still moving, they were going to be able to find him in time. They called his father to help them look, his father was familiar with the area that he was in. The officer who had come to my house insisted I call someone immediately to get my son out of the house, my sister was there in minutes, she didn't know what was going on, and she swore at my friend for not having more information but she took my son out of the house and home with her so he could be with her two sons, who he spent lots of time with on a regular basis. Then the officer left, and my friend left, and his girlfriend who had become a friend in the previous weeks stayed, and we waited, and we waited, and I received a call they hadn't found him, but they were still hopeful. I called him and I left text's and I called and called and texted, no answer, no reply. We waited and waited and waited, they were going to call when they found him, but there was no call. I watched the driveway waiting for his car to appear at the end of it, it didn't come. After what felt like an endless amount of time, a car turned into the driveway, but it was the wrong car, it was a police car, they would have called if they found him, I saw the car and I knew. The officer knocked and then opened the door, his expression was pity, he wanted to be anywhere but there, he didn't want to tell me, but he did, they didn't find him in time. Why? They should have been able to, didn't the cell phone show them where he was, why couldn't they find him, why didn't I know before he left, why didn't I stop him, how could this have happened.
It was the perfect day. He was in a good mood, everything went right. We spent time together, we went out to dinner, after dinner we walked around the mall and had our picture taken in one of those booths that produces a sketch rather than a photo. He seemed 100 percent with me, as if he left all other thoughts and worries behind, to deal with a different day. This couldn't be the same person who was dealing with major depression, this was not the same person who had attempted to take his life and this didn't resemble the person who had scars on his legs from self-inflicted wounds. He talked as if there really weren't any problems, like he had never attempted suicide as if tomorrow would be even better than today, that he really had begun to heal and things were going to get better. Later that night I found out that he was still talking to the friend he had earlier confided hopelessness to, and I didn't know what to do about it, as soon as it came up I asked him about it, and he lied. I had proof, and he didn't say anything, he just stared out, like he was empty and there was nothing I could do to bring him back to where he had been a few hours ago. It didn't matter who he was talking too, it was a problem that these feelings were still so prominent, I didn't know what to do, so I didn't say anything more, and later we were both home. I didn't sleep, I knew something was wrong, the shift from ultimate happiness to vacant emptiness wasn't normal, and something I had never seen in anyone before. I couldn't go to bed, he requested me to come to bed a few times but I couldn't. When morning came and he woke up I sat in front of the bedroom door, I wanted to talk about what was going on and I was afraid, I thought that he was past the heightened suicide risk that happens in the first month of anti-depressants, something wasn't right but I was so tired that I couldn't think or feel properly. We talked and he said that he wanted to take a drive to be alone and sort things out, it was unusual as he didn't like driving, but it made sense, and I could use some time to think also, at this point I knew I would stay with him until he made it through this, then we would decide what to do from there. He held me longer than normal, like he didn't want to let me go, then kissed me. Went down stairs said good bye to our son and he left...
The last two weeks in March, everything turned around. He seemed happy, genuinely happy, he was trying to spend time with me, actual time. Something that I had been requesting for years and not getting, there were no qualifiers, such as; "I'll go and do this with you, but so you know I am doing it for you." Statements that implied, "you are forcing me" there was none of that. And that was much of the reason that I had stopped requesting, nobody wants to feel that the person with them doesn't want to be there. We went and did fun things, I felt that the anti-depressants and counseling were really working and we really might be able to work things out. I still wasn't eating much, but it takes a little while to change gears, which should have made me realize that it should have taken longer for these things to work, but I didn't want to question, I just wanted my life back, where I didn't have to worry constantly where and what state I might find him in if I left him alone. I still spent so much of my time in the waiting rooms, but things were really looking like we would be able to make it out of this. Even if in the end we were not going to stay together, if he wasn't able to handle that type of life anymore, at least he was getting better and my son was going to at least have a father. But at this point staying together looked possible, I had not ever suggested to my husband that at the end of this separating was a possibly, working through each day seemed much more important than looking to the future. Still I didn't talk to anyone, but my sister who was taking care of my son a bit more than usual, did start asking questions, but everything was fine...
I couldn't say that there were no warning signs or that I didn't see it coming when he successfully took his life, although I can certainly say that about the first attempt.
I logged into the computer and I saw a message, I did think it was strange but it did not register what it was and how it would effect the rest of my life. I called him up and he was cheerful and pleasant, I asked him about the message which was to a friend who he had been confiding in about his hopelessness and suicidal thoughts and how worthless he believed he was. It wasn't a good idea to do that over the phone, but I just didn't understand how he could have been keeping such a large thing from me. We had been married for almost 12 years and we just didn't have the problems that other families had, or so I thought. The response I received was horrifying, he said that "You deserve better than me," and started sobbing, I had no idea what to do, I was about 15 minutes away and if he was going to do something to himself then I had to make it there before it happened. He hung up on me and I ran into my car, I drove as fast as a could, over 90MPH on a few occasions, but I knew we had a gun and there were bullets in the house. I called his cell, no answer, I called the home phone and no answer, I started talking on the answering machine until it hung up on me and I called back and back leaving messages that he would be able to hear. Eight minutes later I ran into the house, he was laying in the bathtub with the .45 pointed at his head, I forcefully grabbed the gun away from him, and I was lucky that it didn't go off but getting it away from him was what I needed, at that point a bullet hole in the wall didn't matter. So what now? I put him in the car and we went to the emergency room. We were brought right into a room and a nurse came in to talk to us to get a report. I don't remember what we told her, or more accurately what he told her, as I tried not to say much, he was the one who needed help, the doctor took a blood test to see what the cause could have been and found there were some meth-amphetamines in his system, I didn't think much of it as he often took Claratin-D for allergies, although after the fact I am not sure he was taking them any more. I had also found a hookah in the trunk of his car the week or two before which he told me he had taken from a couple college kids who had been using it in our parking lot (something that I didn't remember until months after), and at the time seemed a perfectly good explanation, he also dumped it in the dumpster as soon as I found it. So I am not at all sure if he was using any sort of drugs but it is possible and with his depression I am sure that he was looking for ways to take care of it without involving me. During the hospital visit the doctor prescribed him an antidepressant, and wouldn't allow us to leave until he was able to get a hold of a mental health practitioner who would be able to see us that day. After 3 or 4 hours we were allowed to leave as long as I drove directly over to the mental health facility, which is what I did next. He went in for an hour or so and then I was asked to join and also was given instructions. We were able to go home that day, looking back I still can't believe that they discharged him, but we went home. I had taken the gun and I hid it, I took it out of the house, but not off the property which would be a mistake later, but it was hidden. Before we made it home we stopped at the pharmacy and picked up the medication that he had been prescribed. The next week, I was supposed to keep an eye on him, I took him every other day to either a mental health visit or a medical doctor visit, and waited and waited. I didn't know who I should tell or talk to, so I didn't. He didn't want anyone to know what had happened so I was quiet... | TamiIt's the end of the world and we know it. And I feel fine. ArchivesSeptember 2011 Categories |
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