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Thursday, August 30, 2012

How it Went

I made it all the way until dinner time before I found myself curled up, in the fetal position, on the floor of the closet sobbing so hard it sounded like a cross between howling and laughter.

I guess it was probably something that had to happen at some point.  Aalthough I've certainly cried along this journey, not once in the past 365 days had a let myself "go there".

I knew when Lily weepily clung to me as I dropped her off to catch the school bus that it was unlikely I was going to make it through the day without crying.

I couldn't help it as the day wore on.  I kept marking certain times and thinking of what I was doing last year at that time. 

At 12:41AM I woke up, sat bolt upright in bed and thought, "This is when he did it".  Even thought I had always just assumed it was "sometime after midnight" I realized as I laid there doing the math that it would be about right.  Leave the car at midnight once it was officially my birthday, hike two miles at his usual walking pace of 4mph, spend about 10 minutes contemplating...

It didn't take too much to set me off.  The kids were being hyper and R. came home exhausted and cranky from a week of hell at work.

I couldn't let the kids see me crashing - it would be too scary for them - so I sent them outside to wait for dinner. 

Poor R. took the brunt of it.  There may have been some accusations hurled about how my birthday had turned into exactly what I had feared...me plastering a fake smile on my face.  And it was all her fault, of course.

She spoke the truth when she said, "I tried for weeks to ask what you wanted to do for your birthday and you never answered me.  There is nothing I could have done to make your birthday the way you want it because you decided months ago it was going to be bad".

So there you have it...

It wasn't R. who spoiled my birthday.
It wasn't even Shawn who spoiled my birthday.

It was ME!!  I was the one who was spoiling my birthday!

I ended up eating dinner with just the kids on the deck.  It was a beautiful, golden evening with a light breeze.  Perfect Colorado weather. 

So I got up and sat in a ray of sun that was shining across the grass.  The perfect angle to warm your back. 

Lily followed me and I told her, "Mommy just want to sit on the grass.  No talking, okay?"  She snuggled in and put her head on my shoulder and asked, "Are you sad?  About Daddy?"  I nodded and then we sat there and quietly cried together.  A few moments later Lennon sat on my other side and quietly hugged me.

And then one of the dogs started barking next door.  We laughed and got up to go visit and get some of those healing dog kisses.

The kids wanted to stay outside.  I went in to find R.

And then I found it within me to ask for what I needed

Despite me vacillating between shouting that I didn't want to have a damn cake and that we should throw it in the garbage then crying that we HAD to do the cake that night because I "wanted to get it over with" and if we didn't "it would mean Shawn won"...

I asked Robin if she would go in the kitchen, with the kids, get the cake ready and then call me in so I could feel special

I laid on the bed and read until Lily came tiptoeing in.  I was calm in a way had not been all day.

Everyone sang.  I blew out the candles.  My smile was genuine.

They all formed a circle around me, said something about me that they were thankful for and then they gave me a group hug.

Happy Birthday to Me!

Wednesday, August 29, 2012

A Squonk

The lyrics I quoted to Shawn in our last email exchange are from the song, "Any Major Dude" by Steely Dan

It was one of our favorite songs by one of our favorite bands and I knew that it would resonate with him.

As I read the full lyrics after Shawn's death I saw a reference to a "squonk" in the line...

"Have you ever seen a squonk's tears? Well, look at mine"


And, of course, I got to wondering, "What IS a squonk??"

It turns out...

"The Squonk is a legendary creature reputed to live in the Hemlock forests of northern Pennsylvania.  Legends of squonks probably originated in the late nineteenth century, at the height of Pennsylvania's importance in the timber industry.
The legend holds that the creature's skin is ill-fitting, and covered with warts and other blemishes, and so it hides from plain sight and spends much of its time weeping.[2] Hunters who have attempted to catch squonks have found that the creature is capable of evading capture by dissolving completely into a pool of tears and bubbles when cornered. A certain J.P. Wentling is supposed to have coaxed one into a bag, which, while he was carrying it home, suddenly lightened. On inspection, he found that the bag contained only the liquid remains of the sad animal."

I think Shawn was a squonk.

My Last Email Exchange with Shawn (Identifying Information Deleted to Make it Difficult for the Uninvited to find the Blog :-)

To Jennifer
From: Shawn
Sent: Fri 8/26/11 1:49 PM

I listened to this today, thanks.

On Wed, Aug 24, 2011 at 12:12 PM, Jennifer wrote:

Everything will be okay.

"Any major dude with half a heart surely will tell you my friend

Any minor world that breaks apart falls together again

When the demon is at your door

In the morning it won't be there no more

Any major dude will tell you"

J~
________________________________________

Date: Tue, 23 Aug 2011 19:27:36 -0600

Subject: Re: Announcement From [Shawn’s Bike Shop]
From:  Shawn
To: Jennifer

Thank you. I am sad but relieved at the same time, it has been so incredibly difficult for three years, it hasn't been much fun.

On Tue, Aug 23, 2011 at 6:01 PM, Jennifer wrote:

I'm sorry to hear the news. I'm sure it must have been a very difficult decision. I know you put everything you had into the business and you made a difference for a lot of people over the years.

Jennifer
________________________________________

Date: Tue, 23 Aug 2011 17:13:59 -0600
Subject: Announcement From [Shawn’s Bike Shop]
From: xxxxxxxxxx@gmail.com

Dear Friends, Family, Customers and Vendors,

Effective October 31, 2011, [The Bike Shop] will be closing permanently. I have enjoyed over thirteen great years serving the cycling community.

I am grateful to everyone in the cycling community, and especially to my loyal clients who have put their trust in me over the years.

Starting today, everything in the store is going to be 25% off of regular price. As we get closer to October 31st, we will also be liquidating all of our tools and equipment as well as store fixtures and furnishings.

Starting August 25, I will be beginning the next chapter of my bicycle industry career as the certified technician at the [big box outdoor store]. I am very excited to join such a great company and to be able to continue to work in the industry and city about which I am so passionate. I will be working at [big box outdoor store] part time and at [the bike shop] full time until October 31st, at which point I will assume full time responsibilities at [big box outdoor store].

I have just a few more details. If anyone is interested in hiring a hard-working, trustworthy, dedicated employee, contact me regarding [employee’s name], who has been working for me for over 2 years and would make a great addition to any company. Next, if there is anyone out there interested in taking over the lease on our gorgeous Linden Street location, contact our commercial realtor, [Realtor Name].

Thanks Again To All Of You,

Shawn

Tuesday, August 28, 2012

August 28, 2012

August 28, 2012 - 7:26pm MST

My anxiety level is rising unexpectedly.

Interestingly, I wasn't consciously thinking of this time last year but, after working so hard over the past 5 years to be in touch with how I am feeling emotionally at any given moment, I recognized the physical symptoms of the anxiety and had to stop and think, "What is going on?  Why am I feeling anxious?"

Oh, yeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh....

That's right.

I shouldn't be surprised that those thoughts are running in the background like some sort of computer spybot.

It's not helping that the kids Grandfather, my Mom's husband of 25+ years and a man who is much more than a "step-father" to me is in the hospital suffering from the effects of chemo.

The superstitious part of me fears that something will go terribly wrong and that we will lose him on my birthday.

Only because I have learned to fear the worst in life.  It doesn't take a therapist to figure out I learned that coping mechanism to protect myself.  When the bad things happen I am not shocked by them because I have usually imagined something as terrible (but of course never the exact thing).

Still, I am stricken with this fear of loss right now.  It's with me every day but very intensified right now.

I suppose, as much as I've tried to prepare myself intellectually for the host of emotions I will be feeling in the next 48 hours, they will be wholly unexpected in how they manifest themselves.

And, it's not just me to think about...

Lennon - He is silent on the matter of it being the anniversary of his Dad's death.  My guess is he is dreading what he expects to be a house of grouchy and depressed people.  I haven't tried to engage him in how he might be feeling because, for him, it is most comfortable to talk about his Dad on an intellectual level, share happy memories while occasionally acknowledging times when Daddy was "angry" and try to stay out of the thick of the girl's grief.  I did notice him come downstairs wearing his Dad's baseball cap and sunglasses this morning.  I think he is honoring in his own silent way.

Lily - Sweet Lily.  She was sad last night and said she didn't think it was "because of Daddy" but she didn't know why she felt that way and wondered "what she could do about it".  We got up at sunrise this morning and went for a walk together, we petted a Welsh Corgi puppy and cuddled on the front step.  Tonight she said she was sad because it will be a year tomorrow.  We talked about how, even though we will have sad feelings tomorrow, it is my birthday and it is important for me to spend it with my family doing happy things.  We talked about honoring her Dad's memory, not by remembering this sad thing he did but by remembering his good.  I told her I had been thinking today about nice things he had done on my birthday.  I also shared with her that I had been writing a lot about her Dad and that I thought I could forgive him.  She talked about how sometimes she thinks she can forgive him and sometimes she thinks she can't.  Such a mature wonderful girl!  She amazes me with her capacity to ponder life.

Shawn's Parents - I'm going to guess that tomorrow will be brutal for them.  I don't believe they have had any professional help or support from other suicide survivors.  They don't ask about the kids grieving and they don't talk about theirs.

Shawn's Sister - Unknown.  This is a woman who was able to read a very clinical history of her brother's life at the funeral without even a quaver in her voice.  Very stoic.  A lot invested in keeping it together.

Amber - she told me she had decided to consider August 28th his date of death, regardless of what the death certificate said, because that was the last time she saw him - and maybe because she doesn't want to acknowledge that he chose my birthday as the day to die.  At any rate, she texted me yesterday to see how I was doing and was talking as if yesterday, the 27th, was the day he had died.  Perplexing as to why she is off two days now but I honor her need to grieve his loss on whatever day is right for her.  She said she is replaying all of the events as if they are a bad movie.

Shawn's Friends - Unknown.  They have not reached out to me even though we were mutual friends while Shawn and I were married.  Maybe they blame his death on me...maybe they think if I hadn't "left" Shawn he would have never done this.  This hurts but I haven't spent an inordinate amount of time dwelling on this situation.  I would like it if they reached out to me someday, though.

Who else?  Who else will be remembering Shawn tomorrow?

Monday, August 27, 2012

How long does a person wait?

I used to hide the knives every night.

Whe Shawn resumed drinking, following 7 months of miserable sobriety, I started to get scared.

He was filled with rage. 

During his non-drinking hours of the day he was agitated, mean and sarcastic.

And when he drank at night the rage turned cold.

He was largely mute once he reached his targeted blood alcohol content. 

Instead of talking he would sit in the living room and, when he looked at me, it was a blank, cold, piercing stare.

Knowing the rage that lied behind that cold stare and, knowing he was fully blacked- out (i.e. he was up walking and doing things and would have ZERO recollection of anything the next day), I was chilled to the core and began to fear that some evening he would snap and kill me.

For years I simply hid the knives and told myself that this was all in my mind - simply a by-product of my scary childhood and reading too many People magazine articles about murdered wives.  Every morning I would wake up and put the knives back out.

And then, on October 30, 2006, after I had tucked the kids into bed I came upstairs, found him sitting, in a stupor, in his chair and I summoned my courage...

"Shawn?  Would you every hurt me?"

He turned slowly and looked blankly at me.  And his reply was this...

"Why would I fuck up my life like that?"

Not, "No!  Oh my gosh!  How could you think that?  I would never hurt you".

"Why would I fuck up my life like that?"

I instantly went into fight or flight mode.  It suddenly seemed dangerous to have even asked the question.  I feared that it was the trigger for the violence I had feared for so long.

"Shawn, I need you leave.  I need you to leave the house right now."  My voice was much more calm and firm than I felt inside. 

I was eyeing the door and knew I could move fast to get the kids and run. 

There was a moment of silence and then he looked at me with wide incredulous eyes.  In a cold voice he said "You want me to leave?  You want me to leave??"

"Yes, Shawn.  I need you to leave the house right now."

He jumped out of the chair but didn't make a move for me.  Instead he went downstairs to Lily's room and grabbed the duffel bag out of her closet.

"Daddy!  Hi, Daddy", she squealed. Lennon came running into Lily's room, happy to see his Daddy at this time of night.

Shawn turned to the kids and said, "Mommy said I can't live here anymore.  She doesn't want Daddy to live here."

I was horrified!  The kids started crying, "No, Mommy!  Please don't make Daddy move!"

I began crying, too, and pleading with Shawn, "I didn't say that, Shawn!  Please just go to a friends house for tonight!  We'll talk in the morning.  I didn't say Daddy can't live here!"

All I had hoped was that he would ride his bike to a friend's house, wake up on the couch and think, "My wife is afraid I'm going to hurt her.  I need to make some changes."

I ran and got a hundred dollar bill which I kept thrusting at him pleading, "Please just go to a hotel for tonight."
On the front porch the kids were clinging to Shawn crying, "No, Daddy!  Please come back!"

And his reply to them...

"Maybe I'll just go drive into the reservoir."

"No, Daddy!  Please don't do that!!"

"Shawn!  Please don't drive the car!  Please, just ride your bike!  Please."  He was way too intoxicated to drive and I knew he was safer on his bike.

I caught hold of his duffel bag as I continued pleading with him not to drive.  With one aggressive, fast jerk he yanked the bag away and I felt the muscles in my shoulder tear.

At this point I knew it was better for everyone to let him go.

I shut the door and took our now hysterical kids upstairs.

Damn him!  How could he do this to our kids???  After all the sacrifices we had made to be fully present for our kids!  Didn't he know that scenes like this stay with you for a lifetime?  I knew it all too well - I had lived it.

And then I knew I needed help.

No more hiding behind a smiling face.  The happy wife, the happy kids, the successful business - it was a lie and I couldn't keep it up anymore.

I called my Mom first.  God, I never wanted to be like her in this regard!  The sobbing, helpless mother with the scared kids.  It was too familiar to both of us.

I doubt she could understand much of what I said but she knew I needed her and she was there within 5 minutes.  She was able to calm the kids and get them too sleep while I called the Sheriff and made a report that my husband had driven off, highly intoxicated, and threatening to drive into the reservoir.

It didn't sound as if the Sheriff was going to be sending out a search party - I got the feeling I would be lucky if the officer patrolling the reservoir kept an eye out on his rounds. 

I called Shawn's two best friends and further broke apart the facade that had been my life with Shawn.  I told them that he had been drinking around 16 drinks every night, that he blacked-out every single evening and that he had driven off threatening suicide.  I begged them to go look for him.  They responded, "He just needs time to think" and if he's not back in the morning they would "see if they could find him and talk to him".

What else was I to do then?  I couldn't go out looking for him by myself - it was dangerous and I had to think about our kids. 

As I recall, I let my Mom tuck me into bed and fell into a deep sleep while she slept restlessly on the couch.

Shawn wasn't home when we all woke up and I knew I had to crack the shell a little more.

I called Shawn's Dad and, crying, confided everything I had shared with the friends the night before.  He responded with great seriousness, asked me to keep him posted and said he would fly out if needed.

And then, sometime around 10am, the VW pulled into the driveway.  I can't remember what either of us said.  I think I was calm and greeted him with a quiet hug.

The kids were at pre-school and Shawn and I went for a hike together.  We needed to be outdoors.

He acknowledged that his drinking was a problem but kept telling me he "wasn't ready" to quit drinking.  I pressed him for when he would be ready.  He couldn't tell me.  I pressed him, "How long do I wait?"  He had no answer for this either.

We did not discuss whether he would ever hurt me or my fear.  I didn't even know if he remembered me asking that question and I didn't want to hear the answer.
We both wanted everything to be okay and so we pretended it was. 

We picked up the kids from pre-school together.  We were all smiles.  We went to the park and laughed and played.  Shawn and I were affectionate with each other, united in our desire for everything to be normal for our family.  We put on our Halloween costumes and went Trick-or-Treating.

I don't think Shawn's friends ever spoke to him about what happened.  I don't think his parents expressed their worries to him.  I guess they wanted everything to be okay as much as we did.

The kids remembered the events of this evening for a few months (Lennon, a few times, did a play-by-play reenactment with the exact intonations in everyone's voices) and then the details seemed to fade away.  They were 3 1/2 and just barely 5 when this happened and don't seem to have any conscious recollection of it now.

It was a turning point for me.  I had shut off close friendships for years.  For the first time I had to be REAL with my friends and family about what my life was really like.  I just couldn't do it on my own any more.  And I discovered that I am stronger when I am real and let my friends support me during hard times.

I knew when Shawn threatened suicide in front of the kids that I wouldn't wait forever for Shawn to quit drinking.  I knew I would not let my children grow up in a house with an alcoholic. 

It turned out the answer to the question, "How long do I wait?" was 8 months.

Eight months to save money so I would have a place to live if he wouldn't move out of the house.  Eight months to gather my mental strength to make the break and stick with it the first time without looking back.

And I did it!  I didn't wait forever!  And I wasn't the one who was there for the final act.  I wasn't the one who had to plan his funeral.

And for that I am grateful.

An afterthought:  When I look back at the day at the evening I describe here and then reflect on how terrible it was last year to spend the day worrying, learning of Shawn's death and staying awake all night waiting for morning to tell the kids - I am struck that I would rather relive August 29, 2011 a hundred times than relive October 30, 2006 even once.  And I guess that tells you something.

Sunday, August 26, 2012

What the Autopsy Told Me

So, the question on everyone's mind is...

"Was it a good idea for me to look at Shawn's autopsy report?".

My answer is, "I don't think I had any choice".

Does that make sense?

Knowing it was out there and that it could answer some of the questions that have kept me up at night made it a given, in my mind, that I would eventually have to read it.

And, yes, it did give answers to many things.

Some of the information I had heard third hand.  Amber told her Mother, who told my Mother, who told me.  Interestingly, Lily told me a couple of things recently that Amber had shared with her.  And many of the final details were filled in yesterday.

On August 23, 2011 Shawn sent an email to friends, family and customers notifying them of the closing of the bicycle shop that had been his dream and his passion for 13 years.

On August 27th Shawn started his new job at a large outdoor retailer.  He went from being a business owner to a new employee that day.

In the late afternoon of August 28th, Shawn initiated an argument with Amber.  He threatened to leave her, said the kids were the most important thing in the world to him, and then stormed out of the house with the final words, "I'm outta here".  He then drove 23 miles up the Buckhorn Canyon - his favorite outdoor spot - to Forest Service Road 100.

From here we have to make some guesses as to what happened based on what I know of Shawn, the "dress rehearsal" he did at least twice during our marriage, and the evidence that was left.

We can deduce that he stopped enroute and purchased a large bottle of Jack Daniels whiskey.  No one told me this but I know it couldn't have been anything other than Jack Daniels.  His B.A.C. was .221 at the time of his death. 

This level of intoxication was pretty standard Shawn levels every single night of our marriage however he had not had a sip of alcohol in 4 years.  Knowing Shawn as well as I did I can guarantee that he was very calculated with how how much he drank and that he made sure he didn't drink so much that he passed out before doing what he had come to do.  He always was that type of alcoholic - very regimented.

Maybe he sat in his truck for awhile staring at the bottle of whiskey.  He had told me after he got sober in 2007 that he would "rather die than drink again".

He must have sat in his truck drinking and, most likely, listening to music for a few hours.  I doubt he cried.  He was stoic like that. 

He wrote "pages of suicide notes"  - filled with anger and vitriol - which he left on the front seat.

He also "wrote several goodbye text messages to his friends and wife".  (My understanding is that no one received these text messages until after they had already learned of his death.  When his body was recovered and he and his phone were brought out of the mountains and into cell phone range they automatically went through to people's phones).

"At some point he left his vehicle and walked two miles to the White Pine saddleback wilderness area, sat on a log and shot himself".  The date of death was "the early morning hours of August 29, 2011".

The autopsy report describes a man who was physically healthy in every way other than the bullet that passed from his right temple all the way through his left temple.

The death certificate, which I had seen just a few days after the funeral, stated the time from "onset to death" was "minutes". 

I had spent a lot of time dwelling on these so-called "minutes" and had envisioned him laying there on the ground with some sort of consciousness of what he had done.  I was never sure whether it was good or bad if there had been the awareness of "I just shot myself in the head" - I just felt the need to know.

After reading the details from the autopsy, I can now be sure that his death was instant.

And here are some new or surprising things I learned:
  • There was no marijuana in his system.  I had never known a Shawn who did not smoke marijuana.  He smoked from the moment he woke up until the moment he went to bed the entire time I knew him.  I had heard that Amber had insisted he quit smoking pot but I, honestly, never believed he had done that or would do that - especially after having to give up alcohol.
  • The only drug in his system other than alcohol was an epilepsy drug that is commonly used to treat individuals with Bi-Polar Disorder.  He was trying to get better. 
So now I am left with new things to consider and puzzle over.

There is not a single part of me that believes he was Bi-Polar. He had Major Depressive Disorder coupled with Naricissistic Personality Disorder as well as years of damage to his brain from nightly black-out drinking and marijuana consumption.  Maybe there was a medication that could have helped.  Maybe ECT could have helped.

I have spent many hours angry at him for NOT getting help, not admitting he needed help, and for being too egotistical to admit anything.

It is hard to realize that he was trying to get help.  He did want to get better.

Friday, August 24, 2012

Apologies

I just finished a very difficult post that is sitting in my "Draft" folder.

I've been doing quite a bit of thinking about how reading so much pain and darkness may be affecting my friends who are reading this.

I worry that in my efforts to process my grief that I am taking you to depths where you don't deserve or need to go.

Therapists get paid good money to listen to this sort of thing and have training for how to deal with the emotions they might have related to hearing terrible things.

I started writing again because I had a therapist who couldn't seem to listen to my pain without judging me.

It suddenly seems unfair to me to have put you all in this situation.

I will keep writing but I think maybe some of the more difficult things should sit in the "Draft" folder.

I know you all will question whether reading the autopsy report was a good thing for me.  All I can tell you is that I felt as if I had no choice.  Knowing it was available and that it contained some of the answers I sought meant it had to happen.

Thursday, August 23, 2012

A Riddle

So here's a riddle for you...

I received the requested copy of Shawn's autopsy from the coroner today.  I had decided it was TIME.

I have spent many sleepless nights with vivid images in my head....trying to understand.  What was Shawn doing in the final hours?  Was he crying?  Was he numb?  Was he standing up when he did it?  Did he kneel down?  Was he sitting?  Did he sit there and think about it for a long time or did he do it without hesitation?  What did the wound look like?  Did he die instantly or was there a moment of awareness that he had pulled the trigger?

It's been terrible but, I've learned, something that is quite common for someone who has lost a loved one to suicide.  Why it matters, I can't tell you.  But it seems to.

So, here's the riddle...

Why is it, after reading the autopsy report, that it disgusts me to read what I wrote in the last posting?

It's not a feeling of anger.  It's disgust.  I want to look away when I see that posting on my screen.

Wednesday, August 22, 2012

The Good

Dear Shawn,

I can't believe I'm writing to you.  I've been so angry at you.  Does this mean I am starting to forgive you?  There is still a part of me that doesn't want to forgive you.  What you did was a really terrible thing.  And really, Shawn, your suicide was just the culmination of a lot of pretty terrible things you had done.

Do you deserve to have me remember the happy times we had?

Intellectually I know others would tell me this is a gift I give myself.

And I guess maybe I owe myself a nice birthday present after last year's doozy.

Shawn, when I think of our happy memories together they are always outside.  With the dogs.  In "the bus".

I remember how badly you wanted that VW when you saw it. 

We had only been living together a few months.  These were happy times when you were introducing me to so many new things in life - new genres of music, new foods, new books and the joy of hiking.

You came home and told me about how we could go camping in a bus like this one. 

We had already gone on one camping adventure.  Even though I had thought I would croak as we rode our bikes out to the Reservoir you encouraged me and we had a great time.

You told me about how we would have great camping adventures and I knew you were right.

As poor as we were, we found a way to buy that orange hippie bus!  You were so excited.  You went and bought an excellent stereo with the insurance money we got after the old lady scraped the side while you were test driving it and...coolest of all...you built a platform bed in the back that was just tall enough to store 5 gallon buckets of camping gear underneath.

We learned a lot on that first camping trip to Palisades.  Arriving at dark and trying to set up camp is difficult and cold, having a little whisk broom to sweep out leaves from your sleeping area is important and, most importantly, we learned that we made a great team in the outdoors.

This was the start of the years of adventure in the VW.

The next few years are a happy blur of memories of you, me and the doggies in the bus.

Push starting the bus all the way to Florida in December (remember how we had to look for gas stations with a hill so you had some help from gravity while you pushed?).

Camping all over the Midwest.

Packing up all our belongings and moving to Arizona with $1,000 to our name.  A couple of small-town kids showing up in a big city with no friends, no jobs and no place to live.  And we made it - it was no big deal because the hard things didn't seem to faze us.

Our biggest adventure - 3 months of camping where we visited every state west of the Mississippi looking for a place to start a business and a family.  Did we even have a disagreement that summer?  I don't remember a single one.

And then once again packing up all our belongings, three dogs and a cat to move to Fort Collins where we had no friends, no jobs and no place to live.  And again we made it!  It wasn't even hard because we were a team.

Just a year later starting the bike shop together.  We took a big risk on your dream and made it into something special over the next 10 years.

And then one last - and most important - adventure.  Our decision to have our beautiful children!

Wow, Shawn!  We built a pretty amazing life together.

The funny thing is that at some point you decided to quit living your life.

First it was just emotional.  You were gone.  I couldn't find the connection and I couldn't find you.

What was left was just a hollow, bitter, angry man.

And a year ago next week you decided to quit living your life physically.

You gave up on being outdoors.  You gave up on music.  You gave up on reading.  You gave up on savoring good food.  You gave up on your career.  You gave up on your kids.

And now you are gone.

You really are gone.

I'm sorry, Shawn.  It's still so hard to believe.

You were so young.

Jennifer

Still Stuck

The fact that I've been pondering for 2+ weeks where to begin answering the question, "When did it all start?" has really highlighted for me how big and complicated this really is for me and how hung up on it I have been - probably even for years before Shawn's suicide.

Do I start with the happy memories?

Do I begin with the very first time I went to bed crying because of Shawn's drinking?

Or do I start with the times when things got really dark?

Surprisingly (at least to me) I find I want to explore the happy memories right now.

Friday, August 17, 2012

The Start

The questions I've been pondering for weeks are...

When did it start?
When did it go bad?
When did Shawn get sick?
Was he always sick?

Of course this has brought up many memories - good and bad.

Which is another struggle.  Where does one file the good memories?  How can they exist alongside the bad?  What compartment in your brain does each go - because they surely can't co-mingle.

Of course I've been accused of "black or white thinking" a few times in my life so maybe it is quite possible that they do exist in the same space.

It's just that it does seem that "it" was good mixed with a bit of bad for a long time.  And then "it" was bad mixed with very little good.

Stick with me here because we may be about to take some dark turns on the next few postings. 

But I also think the end is in sight.  My grief, compared to a month ago, has taken on a much less tormented feel and I know it is because I have taken the time to write my thoughts.

Monday, August 13, 2012

The story of Lily

This is the totally 100% true story of my daughter, Lily Elaine Brooks.

It was July 2002.

Shawn and I had been married for 9 years.  We had owned a business together for 5 years.  Our son was 10 months.  And Shawn had been white-knuckling sobriety for 3 months.
 
We knew we wanted to have a second child.  We thought about 2 years apart would be just perfect.  It had taken us about 7 months to get pregnant the first time and so we assumed it would be about the same the second time.

Three weeks after we started "trying" and one week after closing on a house up the street from where we were currently living I was struck with the thought, "I'm pregnant with a girl"  Add in the fact that my right eye had started to twitch - just as it did my entire first pregnancy - and I became firm in my statements to Shawn, "I think I'm pregnant and it is a girl".  So strong in this belief was I that I avoided all the chemicals being used to paint and make changes in the new house, much to Shawn's annoyance.  And yet I was adamant in my thought of, "NO.  The time is not right.  It is too soon.  We are just moving.  Our lives are too unsettled."

The night we settled into our new home I put Lennon to bed and we decided to go walk around the 1/2 acre backyard of which we had just become the proud owners.  It was the mid-summer of what I recall as a wet year and the flowers were in full bloom.  As we strolled and inspected I stopped at the rose bushes and decided to pluck a petal for each person in our family to press in a book and remember our joy in the new home for years to come.

I carefully plucked the three petals and cupped them in my hand as we finished our walk.

When we got back on the deck I opened up my hand to find...

Four Rose Petals.

Not the three petals I had plucked.  But a 4th smaller petal laying there in my hand.

I shook my head and thought again, "NO!  It is too soon - the time is not right".

I kissed the petal and blew it off my hand with a wish for a little girl LATER - when the time was right.

And at that moment there was a sudden breeze from where there had been none.

And the petal came back and hit me in the stomach.

And then I knew.  I really am pregnant.

And yet it would be several more weeks before I could take the pregnancy test to confirm what I had known, quite possibly, from the moment of her conception.

Our reaction, and that of our family the morning we had confirmation was, "Oh MY God!"

It was so soon.  Lennon was just 11 months old.  What about the "guest room" that we never got to use?

Despite the panic - we were both excited.  Shawn gave me a hug goodbye and set out for a long bike ride.

Lennon and I were sitting on the floor in a sunny patch of the new bedroom while I folded clothes.  I was smiling and thought, "I wonder what we should name this little girl."

The answer that immediately came to me was...Lily...
Lily...
Lily...Elaine
Yes, Lily Elaine Brooks.  I like that.

Shawn returned home a few hours later and sought me out immediately.

He said, "While I was riding I suddenly thought of a name I like if the baby is a girl."

I told him, "So did I - what is the name you thought of?"

His reply...

Lily Elaine

I kid you not!

This was not a name we had discussed when I was pregnant with Lennon (my votes had been for Paisley, Caliope or Cadence).  And this well before the name Lily became as a common as, well, Jennifer.  We did know of anyone with a child named Lily, had never had a friend, aquaintance or co-worker with the name Lily.  As far as I know, the name had never been uttered in our home.

To be fair, Elaine is my Mom's first name and Lennon's middle name is Shawn's Mom's maiden name so there was some precedence for having a family name as the middle name but again...Elaine had never been previously discussed as a possible middle name for a Brooks child.

And yet, somehow, Shawn and I independently came up with the same first and middle name of a child that I had sensed within me from very shortly after she was conceived.

And a very special child she is, my Sweet Lily Elaine.  She loves for me to tell this story.  I swear I am not embellishing a single word of it, it all happened exactly as I described.

I am not a religious in the traditional sense.  I am not a person who believes in psychic abilities.  And yet here lies evidence that my daughter was known to me, by name, from the start.

I love her dearly.  I feel closer to her every day as I watch her mature and understand the world.  I have no doubts she will go far and do amazing things in this world.

Monday, August 6, 2012

How to celebrate a birthday...

It's been interesting to see some shifting of my state-of-mind after writing on this blog.

Perhaps I had been stuck in the anger and disbelief area of grieving?  It seems that way to me.

I've noticed myself feeling more compassionate towards Shawn in the past few weeks coupled with a sadness that he isn't here to watch his children grow into these amazing individuals.

I still haven't decided what to do about my birthday...

Do I celebrate that day with a cake and all the normal things I do with my family?  Is this my way of proving that Shawn didn't achieve what he had hoped for - to forever taint my birthday with his violent death?  And have no doubt, this was his intention.

There's a part of me that really doesn't care about celebrating my birthday anymore.  Maybe Shawn's death made me realize that each day is just another day that can bring joy, sadness or any of the other host of human emotions and to put so much weight on a single day takes away from the importance of truly living each day fully?

And there is probably some of the fear of the unknown.  How will we all feel that day?  Will hearing people sing Happy Birthday simply bring back memories of putting on a happy face and smiling last year while knowing deep inside that it was only a matter of time before I got the terrible, official news?

Next week is NewWestFest in Fort Collins - it celebrates the birthday of the City and is a street fair with music and fun.  I look forward to the festival every year - especially because it falls around my birthday and marks the end of the summer.

I had this thought over the weekend to just tell my family that from now on I would like to celebrate my birthday the Sunday of NewWestFest by going downtown together. 

Can people do that?  Can people change their birthday?

And then what do we do on the real day?  Do we ignore it?

Do we just let that day become Shawn's??

I know Lily has been thinking about this because she has asked me over and over in the past few months, "What are you going to do for your birthday?"

So what do I do, do I own "my day" or do I celebrate in advance?  Or do I postpone and celebrate with Lennon on September 19th?

Seriously, what do you think I should do???