Suicide.

There was a woman once. She survived a divorce and a physically handicapped son. She survived heartbreak after heartbreak. This woman put Montgomery Ward out of business because one of their vehicles hit her child and rendered him handicap the rest of his life. She lifted and changed and cleaned her son well into his thirties. Her husband, his father, divorced her due to the strain in their relationship. She spent many years alone and fighting for her sons well being. One day a man came into her life. She believed they were in love.  They decided to build a home together. After what I can only speculate as him breaking up with her did she shoot this man, wounding him but not killing him, set fire to his vehicle and disappeared. The cops searched for her for months. When they found her they used dental records to identify her body. This is where her story ends. RIP TMF. 

Once there was a man. He loved his brothers with all his heart. He cherished his family and never missed out on a family get together. That man admitted himself to various mental health facilities due to his unstable condition. Narsistitic Personality Disorder. I can only speculate as to why he never found the help he needed. This man shot himself in the chest on his property thus ending his story. RIP JGT. 

I am what sociologists consider a “suicide survivor.” This term means that I have loved ones who took their lives.  TMF and JGT were my aunt and great uncle on opposite sides of my family. For many months I was furious with them with occasional guilt like I could’ve done something. One day I realized something of vital importance. We all age and our body gives in to death. But what if the soul gives in before the body? Suicide is the soul having had enough while the body is young. There’s no excuse for it but I find comfort in that thought. I’ll always love them. 

A Day that Changed the World.

Well it changed my world. It was August 29th of 2013. A day I won’t ever forget. And a person I’m reminded of daily. He was a wise man. Born in Mather, Pennsylvania. Born February 26, 1928. He taught me so much and loved me more. He grew up working in the coal mines. He was in the 82nd airborne division. Worked for his local church and knew how to drive a mean bus. I’ll never forget that old white dodge ram van that wreaked of gasoline, with all the grandkids pictures pinned to the dashboard. I’ll never forget watching you crawl around the side lot to catch crickets to feed my frogs. You taught me what love really is. I’ll use your catch phrases a time or two and find myself reminiscing again. Occasionally I hear a song and tears flood my eyes. It wasn’t just I that you inspired. You had a whole community of love. No one thing could be said about you that was bad or negative. You treated people in such a way you left an unforgettable impression. I had a classmate of mine in elementary school ask me if you were God. You were my role model, my idol, my angel. I can still shut my eyes and see your bright blue eyes and your sun aged, deep wrinkled skin. Wrinkles that sprung from years of smiling and laughing. What a soul you had. You touched so many lives and lived the way I strive to. You loved so intensely and fiercely there was never a doubt in your family’s mind. I’ll never forget those overalls or the ball caps, the smell of old spice and listerine or your obsession of history and wolves. I won’t ever forget you Grandpa. And I’ll never forget the day you died.
Sitting in the hospital convinced you’d be home again and get better just to find out you had cancer. Chemotherapy just to find out that the cancer had metastasized from your lungs to your kidneys and spine. Watching you try to get out of bed but the back pain was so immense. Watching you lay in that bed and serenade my grandma. Such an inspirational relationship you two had. While I was at school you were sent home. By the time I got there that evening you were no longer speaking, but you’d occasionally open your eyes. I’m not sure if it was the progression of the cancer or the morphine. You were struggling. But you weren’t alone. You were surrounded by your family. Every time your breathing slowed the whole room would go silent except for the choking back of tears. I finally stood by the head of your bed, leaned in and kissed your face. I said it’s okay to go Grandpa, don’t be afraid. I told you how much we all love you, how I love you so much. How much of a difference you made in our world. That was all I said. Then we all waited. Finally my dad requested I go home and get some rest. It was after midnight. At 6:30 in the morning I woke after a dream about a gray wolf and a white wolf deep in a forest. I texted my youngest sister to meet me and we could drive together to see our grandpa. I got ready as quickly as possible and sat on my front porch. The morning air was so still, like there was no life. It was humid but cool with fog in the air. I admired the closest tree I could see until my sisters car pulled up. She approached me but stopped six feet away. We made eye contact. I could feel my knees tremble and a knot in my throat. All of a sudden I swear my own heart stopped. She asked if I had gotten a call from our father. I hadn’t. She told me our grandfather died at 6:30. We rushed to his house to say goodbye, cheeks drenched with tears and tight with exhaustion. We arrived and I walked through the door. I walked passed our family into the room where his lifeless body remained. It no longer had that bright twinkle of life in it’s eyes. It was so still. So peaceful. No longer in any pain. I sobbed. I cried so uncontrollably while my dad held me. He tried to calm me but every breath I choked on. When the EMTs came to take my grandpas body to our local university I helped them move him. He donated his body to science. He believed in education and helping others. I watched them load him and drive off. I remember that last glimpse. I remember more tears and holding my cousins shoulder as that grown man wailed. My heart broke. My soul dimmed. The world lost such a bright spirit so it seemed like a darker place. I thought you were invincible like a superhero. Even after my experience working with dying patients while you were around I had hope that there would be a miracle. I had to face the truth, you were gone. What I hadn’t realized was that the miracle wasn’t you surviving cancer, you were the miracle. I am so blessed and honored to call you Grandpa. My fond memories of you could fill a novel, from your garden to you waltzing with grandma. Your sense of humor that each of your family now exhibits and your stern nature. I’ll miss the smell of the fireplace and eating chocolate ice cream with you before bedtime. I’ll miss swimming and going to church in the summertime. I’ll miss the fedora you used to wear with your cuff links. I’ll miss the way you loved life. I’ll be missing you but I’ll be seeing you in all the old familiar places. I love you Grandpa. My guardian angel.

It hurt like hell.

Today’s thoughts are complex. A little more complicated because finalizing my divorce is only 6 days away. It’s been a long seven month journey though I’m fortunate the process hasn’t taken a whole year away from my life.
I find myself reflecting on my relationship with my ex. So here’s a brief summary of the story. We had our son at an early age. I was 18 years old when I found out I was pregnant and his father was 20. We had been dating on and off since I was fourteen. It was never a stable relationship, always hot and cold. We would seek vengeance for all the mishaps and hurt we caused one another. It was unhealthy and we were young. Most of my pregnancy was the roughest area of our relationship and led to so much hurting. He ended up seeking the company and comfort of a young lady around my own age. For the purposes of this blog we will refer to her as HW. She plays a role later in the story as well. We somehow rekindled the romance a few months after our son was born. A lot of the details are a bit blurry. We seemed good, things seemed to fall into place. A few years later we got married before my ex was deployed to Afghanistan. I was a good wife, a loyal wife. I counted down the days, even while he belittled and degraded me. Even while he threatened to leave me and assumed I was being unfaithful. I’ll never forget the cruel and hurtful things he said to me. He came home after 13 months of training and deployment. I was elated. I forgot for a brief moment in time the things he said to me. But after a while it wasn’t the same. I drifted. I created a huge distance between us and we ended up separating. During our separation we both saw other people, he saw HW of course. Well after some months the romance was yet again rekindled. Somehow we ended up back in each others arms. During that few years or so HW would drive by our house or send texts to my husband. It would anger me but he came home to me every day and we always ended up back together. That’s destiny right?? Wrong. So terribly wrong. A few nights a month my husband would go out drinking and claim to have stayed at a friends house. I believed him. I thought we were happy despite his always jealous nature. One night at about 4 am I got a bad feeling. I thought maybe he had drank and drove so I decided to search for him. I looked at all his usually hang outs and then just drove around. Luckily we lived in a small town. About 15 minutes of driving around I find his car at a house. I pull up to the front of the house. I walk to the front door and knock. No response. I check the knob and it’s unlocked. I walk in and hear sounds no married woman should ever have to hear. I follow the noises. Up the stairs I hustle. Losing all concept of reality and what it is I am doing. Heat of the moment. I walk through the bedroom door to see them both naked, him on top of her, those horrid sounds coming out of her mouth. And it’s none other than his beloved HW. I freeze then apologize for entering her home. I run out the door back to my car. I get home. To OUR home. OUR sacred vows. OUR life together raising OUR son. OUR love, all of a sudden, my entire vision of OUR future was over. A few minutes can change your life forever. 4 a.m August 1st, 2014. A decade of relationship. Almost 3 years of marriage. An entire deployment of suffering and wondering if he would come home alive. All of that died that night. The man I knew died that night too. I’m mourning that loss still.
Out of all that suffering, I found a friend. I found someone who mourned with me. Who helped me see the truth and gave me hope. He taught me valuable lessons and always listened. Somewhere in the craziness and unbelievable devastation I figured out how to love again. I’m in love with a man who knows how to love. A dedicated, hardworking single father. Someone who really gets it. Someone who understands me. You could say, I found love in a hopeless place.