One of the more interesting things that has happened as a result of Shawn's death is that I ended up with a new friend.
During the two years Shawn was married to Amber there was a great deal of resentment and anger flowing from their household. It was little things like, "Your Mom can't see our new puppy when she picks you up because he is part of 'our side of the family'" and bigger things like, "Your Mommy is a liar and spreads rumors".
I always told the L's I was so sorry that they were put in the middle of grown-up issues. I made it clear that their Daddy and Amber loved them very much and that they never had to choose between loving me or them - it was okay for them to love all their parents! I am proud to say I never took the bait and spoke ill of Shawn or Amber - I knew it would only hurt the kids.
At first I thought the vitriol directed at me was a result of Shawn painting me as a horrible witch to his new wife. But as the resentment got worse and worse from that household I started to suspect things were not going well there. If they were happy newlyweds I knew they would not be so focused on me.
The day after Shawn died I spent several hours on the phone with Amber. And I learned many things...
The biggest one was that the nightmare she had been living - at least for the last few months of Shawn's life - was the same as what I lived through the last 5 years with Shawn. She, too, had come to fear for her life. I had convinced myself after the divorce that my fears of Shawn killing me were solely in my head and a direct result of my own crummy childhood. And suddenly she was describing the seething rage. The cold, blank, emotionless stares. It hadn't been just in my head.
She told me of how she, too, had tried to get him help...found counselors for him to see (that he dismissed as idiots or lied to about the true state of his feelings). She even got him to try medication - something I had never been successful at (since he was drinking during my time with him he always claimed he had a medication that worked really well - it was called "alcohol").
She told me that he had been incredibly checked out from the kids for quite awhile and would just go sit off by himself and stare into space when they were there. She had insisted on him interacting with them - told him they had come to see him not her - but it was always a struggle.
And she told me about how Shawn had always compared her to me - both my good and bad qualities, ultimately always putting her in an unfavorable light - either by saying, "Jennifer used to do this or that and you DON'T" or "Jennifer always used to do this or that and you women are ALL ALIKE".
These were the reasons she had been so hateful towards me.
And I was able to forgive her in an instant. I understood.
Even though I hadn't reacted to the stresses in my marriage with the same coping mechanisms as she did - we had a shared experience.
At the funeral we all sat together in the front row. Amber, me, the L's and R.
The kids needed us to be united. They couldn't have any more hatred in their lives.
It was almost as if we all wanted Shawn to have taken all of the anger and hatred with him.
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Monday, July 30, 2012
Dramatic Irony
Here's a little story of some dramatic irony for you...
After Shawn and I divorced I began to hear stories from the kids about guns their Daddy had bought and how he liked going to the mountains to shoot at targets.
Of course this was frightening to me, someone who did not grow up around guns, because of Shawn's history of cold rage towards me, past suicidal threats, and what appeared to be continued instability.
But what was I to do? The guns were reportedly locked away from the kids and I was no longer married to him, thus ending any powers of persuasion I had previously had when he talked about buying a gun.
When Lennon was born I had decided, when he was old enough, we would go together and learn the proper way to handle and fire guns. I never wanted to teach my kids that guns are BAD - I wanted them to know that guns are very powerful tools and that they are perfectly appropriate when used by policeman for protecting people and by people hunting for food. My mantra always was "tools not toys".
I had heard rumblings of "Daddy buying me a BB gun for my 10th birthday" from Lennon and I could see that it was probably only a matter of time before Shawn took him shooting in the mountains. And this worried me immensely.
The weekend before my birthday the L's and I went camping with R.
At the campground there was a group of "rough-and-tumble" boys with realistic looking toy guns who were going on great adventures and pretending to hunt "bad guys" in the woods. Lennon, my sweet boy who never made a pretend gun out of a toy stick or showed any interest in violent stereotypical boy games (he always preferred to read and study his maps) had already started to reach the age where he was wanting to separate from his Mom and begged desperately to play along. As I recall, I let him play for awhile but when I saw him point a toy gun at someone in the game I had a little mommy-meltdown and made him come back to the campsite - something he was not happy about.
R. grew up on a ranch where they used guns for a variety of purposes. R, who I trust inherently to protect the L's and me, had brought her little .22 rifle with us on the camping trip. We had talked in advance and said that I could decide if the time was right for us to learn about gun safety and if it wasn't we would wait. We hadn't even told the kids we had the rifle with us.
On the morning of the 28th of August I decided that, as queasy as it made me feel, it was time we had a lesson on gun safety - especially in light of the evidence that Lennon was becoming more interested in what this whole gun thing was about as a way to bond with his Dad and other boys.
R. gave us a professor style lecture before the rifle was even out of the case, then we practiced handling the gun without any bullets, and then we hung the targets on distant tree and loaded the rifle.
As I recall, I went first, heart pounding, and then Lennon and then finally Lily got the courage.
Lennon got a bulls-eye on one of his first shots and was so proud. And, really, we all felt so proud that we had accomplished something that had been a little intimidating.
As we drove home it dawned on me that I was probably going to have to tell Shawn, before the kids excitedly told him, that I had taken them shooting for the first time. And that he would definitely be angry at me for doing this and "stealing" that fatherly/manly opportunity.
I knew he wouldn't understand why I did it - that it was out of fear that he, himself, might not be entirely careful with his guns when he was out shooting (this is the same man who used to go out in the middle of lightning storms and hold his arms to the sky in the hope he would get struck). That it was my effort to have a little say in how Lennon was educated about how to handle guns and maybe his attitudes towards them.
The morning of my birthday, the 29th of August, Lennon tucked his target with the bulls-eye in his backpack and headed off to school - excited to show it to this Daddy that night.
I went off to work where I sat at my desk drafting an email to Shawn letting him know I had taken the kids shooting and hoping he would somehow understand.
Before the email was ever finished the text came in from Amber asking if the kids or I had talked to Shawn last night.
It turns out that the very afternoon the kids were learning to shoot a gun their father drove into the mountains, not too far from where we were, wrote an angry suicide note and, sometime in the early morning hours of the next day, he shot himself in the right temple.
That night while I waited the endless hours to tell the kids that their father was gone I went and took the target out of Lennon's backpack and tucked it away.
No one in the family has ever spoken about going shooting that day. No one has ever talked about going again.
After Shawn and I divorced I began to hear stories from the kids about guns their Daddy had bought and how he liked going to the mountains to shoot at targets.
Of course this was frightening to me, someone who did not grow up around guns, because of Shawn's history of cold rage towards me, past suicidal threats, and what appeared to be continued instability.
But what was I to do? The guns were reportedly locked away from the kids and I was no longer married to him, thus ending any powers of persuasion I had previously had when he talked about buying a gun.
When Lennon was born I had decided, when he was old enough, we would go together and learn the proper way to handle and fire guns. I never wanted to teach my kids that guns are BAD - I wanted them to know that guns are very powerful tools and that they are perfectly appropriate when used by policeman for protecting people and by people hunting for food. My mantra always was "tools not toys".
I had heard rumblings of "Daddy buying me a BB gun for my 10th birthday" from Lennon and I could see that it was probably only a matter of time before Shawn took him shooting in the mountains. And this worried me immensely.
The weekend before my birthday the L's and I went camping with R.
At the campground there was a group of "rough-and-tumble" boys with realistic looking toy guns who were going on great adventures and pretending to hunt "bad guys" in the woods. Lennon, my sweet boy who never made a pretend gun out of a toy stick or showed any interest in violent stereotypical boy games (he always preferred to read and study his maps) had already started to reach the age where he was wanting to separate from his Mom and begged desperately to play along. As I recall, I let him play for awhile but when I saw him point a toy gun at someone in the game I had a little mommy-meltdown and made him come back to the campsite - something he was not happy about.
R. grew up on a ranch where they used guns for a variety of purposes. R, who I trust inherently to protect the L's and me, had brought her little .22 rifle with us on the camping trip. We had talked in advance and said that I could decide if the time was right for us to learn about gun safety and if it wasn't we would wait. We hadn't even told the kids we had the rifle with us.
On the morning of the 28th of August I decided that, as queasy as it made me feel, it was time we had a lesson on gun safety - especially in light of the evidence that Lennon was becoming more interested in what this whole gun thing was about as a way to bond with his Dad and other boys.
R. gave us a professor style lecture before the rifle was even out of the case, then we practiced handling the gun without any bullets, and then we hung the targets on distant tree and loaded the rifle.
As I recall, I went first, heart pounding, and then Lennon and then finally Lily got the courage.
Lennon got a bulls-eye on one of his first shots and was so proud. And, really, we all felt so proud that we had accomplished something that had been a little intimidating.
As we drove home it dawned on me that I was probably going to have to tell Shawn, before the kids excitedly told him, that I had taken them shooting for the first time. And that he would definitely be angry at me for doing this and "stealing" that fatherly/manly opportunity.
I knew he wouldn't understand why I did it - that it was out of fear that he, himself, might not be entirely careful with his guns when he was out shooting (this is the same man who used to go out in the middle of lightning storms and hold his arms to the sky in the hope he would get struck). That it was my effort to have a little say in how Lennon was educated about how to handle guns and maybe his attitudes towards them.
The morning of my birthday, the 29th of August, Lennon tucked his target with the bulls-eye in his backpack and headed off to school - excited to show it to this Daddy that night.
I went off to work where I sat at my desk drafting an email to Shawn letting him know I had taken the kids shooting and hoping he would somehow understand.
Before the email was ever finished the text came in from Amber asking if the kids or I had talked to Shawn last night.
It turns out that the very afternoon the kids were learning to shoot a gun their father drove into the mountains, not too far from where we were, wrote an angry suicide note and, sometime in the early morning hours of the next day, he shot himself in the right temple.
That night while I waited the endless hours to tell the kids that their father was gone I went and took the target out of Lennon's backpack and tucked it away.
No one in the family has ever spoken about going shooting that day. No one has ever talked about going again.
Friday, July 27, 2012
The Good that Resides Within
There was something that weighed on my mind for months after Shawn died that I couldn't put my fingers on...
There were the normal expected emotions but this one had to do with the unsolvable riddle of "why did he do it?"
There were the normal expected emotions but this one had to do with the unsolvable riddle of "why did he do it?"
And then one day I realized this...although it had been many years since I had been able to access the the young man I feel in love with - the one who loved nature and animals, riding his bicycle and who had a sense of justice in the world - I still believed that this person resided within him.
It turns out this person was lost to him, too. And that must be a pretty dark place when you can't access the things that make you who you are and that all that is left is an emptiness.
So today, my friends, I want to share something I wrote to Shawn on Thanksgiving Day in 2006. We had been struggling with his drinking, his anger and his suicidal ideations for several years at this point. We had been talking about ending our marriage. I wanted him to know he was a good person despite his struggles.
When I read these things now they still ring so true for me. These were the things that were quintessentially Shawn and all the good that resided within him.
Dear Shawn,
On this day of giving thanks I want to share with you…
It turns out this person was lost to him, too. And that must be a pretty dark place when you can't access the things that make you who you are and that all that is left is an emptiness.
So today, my friends, I want to share something I wrote to Shawn on Thanksgiving Day in 2006. We had been struggling with his drinking, his anger and his suicidal ideations for several years at this point. We had been talking about ending our marriage. I wanted him to know he was a good person despite his struggles.
When I read these things now they still ring so true for me. These were the things that were quintessentially Shawn and all the good that resided within him.
Dear Shawn,
On this day of giving thanks I want to share with you…
Things I admire about you…
- Your humor – even in times of stress you can make me laugh. And you are original, too! Not just parroting what someone else has already said.
- Your open minded view of the world
- Your love of a variety of music and that you have freely shared it with me
- Your constant desire to further educate yourself on many topics and grow
- The passion you have for your business
- The open affection you show for our children
- That you can let loose and be silly with our children
- That you are a phenomenal cook – and amaze me with your ability to have a meal be completed to an exact minute
- The pride you take in your physical fitness
- Your willingness to challenge yourself on a bicycle and in life in general – your ride in the Laramie Enduro has been an inspiration to me many times
- That you take pride in keeping our house looking nice
- That you are kind and friendly to my Mom and my friends
- That you do (and provide encouragement for me to do) things to help me better myself – like making time to exercise, allowing me time with my friends
- That you shared your love of cycling with me - and built me bicycles that are faster, lighter, stronger – better than most people could hope to ride
- That you are careful with your belongings and never seem to lose or break anything
- Your love of dogs (even one as annoying as Sydney!)
- Your ability to make conversation with almost anyone
- You appreciation for the world and its beauty and your love of spending time outside loving it
- Your ability to live in the moment – not dwell on the past or worry about the future
Thank you for being YOU! It was the real Shawn that you presented at my door so many years ago. No pretenses, no lies, no games. I want to work on us – not for our kids, not for our business, not because of the complications, not because of the time invested. I want to show you every day my respect for you, Shawn Brooks, my husband.
Let’s work together.
Love,
Jennifer
Thursday, July 26, 2012
What it was like for me the day you died...
Dear Shawn,
I think I need to share with you, for my own healing, what it was like for me the day you died.
It was my 40th birthday. Oh, how I had been dreading turning 40! Not only did it sound old - I actually felt old, too. It turns out that day aged me more than any other.
The day hadn't started out great. For the first time in my life I hadn't spent the preceding weeks jubilantly announcing that my birthday is coming. This meant that no one in the house greeted me with birthday wishes.
And, really, this is the way I wanted it - I wanted to be mad and sulk about turning 40 and what could be more perfect than letting them know the day after that they had forgotten my birthday?? Childish, I know. But, look at it this way, even if I was getting old on the calendar and physically, there was no reason I had to act mature mentally!!
They may have forgotten it was my birthday but I don't think you had. It wasn't like you to forget- you were one who remembered these sorts of things. Paid attention to the calendar, called your parents on their birthdays, made people's birthdays special.
I was sitting at work feeling sorry for myself when the text chimed.
It was from your wife.
Your wife who had spent most of the two years of your marriage speaking ill of me to anyone who would listen, your wife who sent me emails where my name in the "To:" field said, "Huge Fucking Pile of Shit" (that was your name for me wasn't it - it is quintessentially you), your wife who told the kids that their mommy "was a liar".
It was from your wife who probably put me on the bottom of the list of people she would reach out to in an emergency.
And it said, "Have you or the kids talked to Shawn since last night?"
Shawn, my heart instantly dropped into my stomach.
I knew right then.
I knew it was really bad.
I knew that your wife had to be desperate with fear before she typed those words on her phone.
I knew that fear too well.
I had been through it with you before. I had called your friends with the same question.
Of course, we hadn't talked to you. I hadn't talked to you on the phone since the time you made me cry after I got laid off.
We hadn't talked to you because you didn't call.
I wrote back immediately and let her know we hadn't heard from you and asked, "Is everything okay?"
The reply came quickly..."NO! Can the kids stay with you tonight?"
They were supposed to see you that night. You were supposed to have dinner with them.
And now you were missing.
And I knew how bad it really was - I knew that if it was just a Lover's Quarrel between you and Amber where you had gone to sleep on a friends couch. She would have never texted me for that.
Now you were missing and suddenly my pathetic little birthday pity seemed very small.
Shawn, my thoughts immediately turned to the kids. I had just dropped them off at school a few hours before. You would never hurt them, would you? You weren't that far gone, were you?
Do you have any idea how shameful it felt to call the school? Did you know I was still protecting YOU and your image when I didn't tell them the details of my concerns and simply instructed them 3 times in a very firm voice that NO ONE except me should pick up the kids and that if ANYONE - even another family member came to pick them up that they should call me and the police. What kind of person has to make this call? People with "normal lives" don't have to make calls like this. And I thought I was done with that life when we divorced.
I don't really remember the rest of the work-day. I do remember texting Amber and telling her to look for you in the Buckhorn Canyon - it was your favorite place and where you had gone the "other times".
At 3:30 I picked up the kids. They were surprised to see me. They were expecting you.
I put on a smile and told them, "Daddy and Amber had some things going on tonight and thought it might be nice for you to spend my birthday with me." This seemed to make sense to them and there were no further questions.
The plan had been to celebrate with my Mom on the weekend but she had quickly run out to the store for some food and a cake - I think she had sensed I was shutting down and needed to be there with the kids for the distraction so...it was an impromptu birthday party!! Hooray!
Except I kept checking my phone. And we all kept faking a smile for the kids.
Around the time my Mom was putting the candles on the cake I received a text, "They found his truck in the Buckhorn but he's not with it."
I shared my screen with my Mom and John and then everyone sang Happy Birthday.
What else were we supposed to do, Shawn?? We had to protect the kids as long as possible. Maybe this wasn't heading towards where it seemed to be.
Driving home my phone rang right as we turned on to County Road 5.
The kids were in the back seat laughing riotously.
It was Amber.
As we crossed the bridge she said, "They found him. He killed himself."
There were no other words said. We just hung up.
My Mom was the first person I called. She answered on the first ring with a hopeful, "Did they find him?"
I was still in the car. The kids were still being silly in the back seat.
"Yes."
"Is he okay??"
"No."
"Did he...?"
"Yes."
"Oh, God! Oh, God!"
And I knew at that moment that there was no way I could tell these happy, silly children what had happened and then send them off to bed. They needed one last night of being children. One last night of restful sleep.
I felt like I was going to puke.
I told the kids "Mommy isn't feeling well and needs you both to do exactly what I say when we get home and go straight to bed."
Somehow I found it within me to maintain some semblance of a normal demeanor as I supervised PJ's and read stories.
And then I went downstairs and cried and cried for them.
And then I switched into the mode I've had to maintain for this year. Taking care of the kids.
I called the Counselor at the kids school. She already knew. She was crying for your kids, too.
We knew your suicide would be prominent in the newspaper. You were well known in the cycling community. We talked about a strategy for letting the L's classmates know that you had lost your father and help them know how to help you when you returned to school.
And then I waited.
Goddammit, Shawn!
I waited up the whole night!
I waited for morning so I could wake your children and tell them that you were gone.
Fuck you!
No one should have to do this.
It made me old!!
It changed me!
I didn't sleep. I didn't cry.
I sat on the floor with my head on the bed.
And I waited.
At some point I thought I felt your presence and I was filled with rage.
"Go AWAY!" I commanded you.
You had no right to be there.
I didn't need you. You had done this and it was me, on my own, who was waiting.
It was sunny and quiet and calm when I called L. into his sister's bedroom. They had just woken up but I couldn't wait any longer. It had to be done.
I think I handled it well.
I let them know I had something very difficult to tell them and then I said it.
"Your Daddy died last night."
Their wails slammed up against me like a brick wall.
"How? What happened??"
Shawn, I learned after the fact that you had asked in your angry, blaming suicide note that the kids NOT be told how you died.
You don't get to make choices like that when you commit suicide.
I told them. It was the right thing to do.
"He took his life."
They would find out someday. Why grieve twice - once for the loss and again when they find out how? And would they trust me to tell them the truth if lied about this? And would I send the message that your choice was the shame of others?
Shawn, my Birthday is approaching quickly. I want you to know we are doing okay. The kids miss you. I am still angry at times. I still miss the young man I fell in love with. I am sad that you didn't find a way to ease the pain after so many years. It wasn't the right choice.
Jennifer
I think I need to share with you, for my own healing, what it was like for me the day you died.
It was my 40th birthday. Oh, how I had been dreading turning 40! Not only did it sound old - I actually felt old, too. It turns out that day aged me more than any other.
The day hadn't started out great. For the first time in my life I hadn't spent the preceding weeks jubilantly announcing that my birthday is coming. This meant that no one in the house greeted me with birthday wishes.
And, really, this is the way I wanted it - I wanted to be mad and sulk about turning 40 and what could be more perfect than letting them know the day after that they had forgotten my birthday?? Childish, I know. But, look at it this way, even if I was getting old on the calendar and physically, there was no reason I had to act mature mentally!!
They may have forgotten it was my birthday but I don't think you had. It wasn't like you to forget- you were one who remembered these sorts of things. Paid attention to the calendar, called your parents on their birthdays, made people's birthdays special.
I was sitting at work feeling sorry for myself when the text chimed.
It was from your wife.
Your wife who had spent most of the two years of your marriage speaking ill of me to anyone who would listen, your wife who sent me emails where my name in the "To:" field said, "Huge Fucking Pile of Shit" (that was your name for me wasn't it - it is quintessentially you), your wife who told the kids that their mommy "was a liar".
It was from your wife who probably put me on the bottom of the list of people she would reach out to in an emergency.
And it said, "Have you or the kids talked to Shawn since last night?"
Shawn, my heart instantly dropped into my stomach.
I knew right then.
I knew it was really bad.
I knew that your wife had to be desperate with fear before she typed those words on her phone.
I knew that fear too well.
I had been through it with you before. I had called your friends with the same question.
Of course, we hadn't talked to you. I hadn't talked to you on the phone since the time you made me cry after I got laid off.
We hadn't talked to you because you didn't call.
I wrote back immediately and let her know we hadn't heard from you and asked, "Is everything okay?"
The reply came quickly..."NO! Can the kids stay with you tonight?"
They were supposed to see you that night. You were supposed to have dinner with them.
And now you were missing.
And I knew how bad it really was - I knew that if it was just a Lover's Quarrel between you and Amber where you had gone to sleep on a friends couch. She would have never texted me for that.
Now you were missing and suddenly my pathetic little birthday pity seemed very small.
Shawn, my thoughts immediately turned to the kids. I had just dropped them off at school a few hours before. You would never hurt them, would you? You weren't that far gone, were you?
Do you have any idea how shameful it felt to call the school? Did you know I was still protecting YOU and your image when I didn't tell them the details of my concerns and simply instructed them 3 times in a very firm voice that NO ONE except me should pick up the kids and that if ANYONE - even another family member came to pick them up that they should call me and the police. What kind of person has to make this call? People with "normal lives" don't have to make calls like this. And I thought I was done with that life when we divorced.
I don't really remember the rest of the work-day. I do remember texting Amber and telling her to look for you in the Buckhorn Canyon - it was your favorite place and where you had gone the "other times".
At 3:30 I picked up the kids. They were surprised to see me. They were expecting you.
I put on a smile and told them, "Daddy and Amber had some things going on tonight and thought it might be nice for you to spend my birthday with me." This seemed to make sense to them and there were no further questions.
The plan had been to celebrate with my Mom on the weekend but she had quickly run out to the store for some food and a cake - I think she had sensed I was shutting down and needed to be there with the kids for the distraction so...it was an impromptu birthday party!! Hooray!
Except I kept checking my phone. And we all kept faking a smile for the kids.
Around the time my Mom was putting the candles on the cake I received a text, "They found his truck in the Buckhorn but he's not with it."
I shared my screen with my Mom and John and then everyone sang Happy Birthday.
What else were we supposed to do, Shawn?? We had to protect the kids as long as possible. Maybe this wasn't heading towards where it seemed to be.
Driving home my phone rang right as we turned on to County Road 5.
The kids were in the back seat laughing riotously.
It was Amber.
As we crossed the bridge she said, "They found him. He killed himself."
There were no other words said. We just hung up.
My Mom was the first person I called. She answered on the first ring with a hopeful, "Did they find him?"
I was still in the car. The kids were still being silly in the back seat.
"Yes."
"Is he okay??"
"No."
"Did he...?"
"Yes."
"Oh, God! Oh, God!"
And I knew at that moment that there was no way I could tell these happy, silly children what had happened and then send them off to bed. They needed one last night of being children. One last night of restful sleep.
I felt like I was going to puke.
I told the kids "Mommy isn't feeling well and needs you both to do exactly what I say when we get home and go straight to bed."
Somehow I found it within me to maintain some semblance of a normal demeanor as I supervised PJ's and read stories.
And then I went downstairs and cried and cried for them.
And then I switched into the mode I've had to maintain for this year. Taking care of the kids.
I called the Counselor at the kids school. She already knew. She was crying for your kids, too.
We knew your suicide would be prominent in the newspaper. You were well known in the cycling community. We talked about a strategy for letting the L's classmates know that you had lost your father and help them know how to help you when you returned to school.
And then I waited.
Goddammit, Shawn!
I waited up the whole night!
I waited for morning so I could wake your children and tell them that you were gone.
Fuck you!
No one should have to do this.
It made me old!!
It changed me!
I didn't sleep. I didn't cry.
I sat on the floor with my head on the bed.
And I waited.
At some point I thought I felt your presence and I was filled with rage.
"Go AWAY!" I commanded you.
You had no right to be there.
I didn't need you. You had done this and it was me, on my own, who was waiting.
It was sunny and quiet and calm when I called L. into his sister's bedroom. They had just woken up but I couldn't wait any longer. It had to be done.
I think I handled it well.
I let them know I had something very difficult to tell them and then I said it.
"Your Daddy died last night."
Their wails slammed up against me like a brick wall.
"How? What happened??"
Shawn, I learned after the fact that you had asked in your angry, blaming suicide note that the kids NOT be told how you died.
You don't get to make choices like that when you commit suicide.
I told them. It was the right thing to do.
"He took his life."
They would find out someday. Why grieve twice - once for the loss and again when they find out how? And would they trust me to tell them the truth if lied about this? And would I send the message that your choice was the shame of others?
Shawn, my Birthday is approaching quickly. I want you to know we are doing okay. The kids miss you. I am still angry at times. I still miss the young man I fell in love with. I am sad that you didn't find a way to ease the pain after so many years. It wasn't the right choice.
Jennifer
Monday, July 23, 2012
Always on Our Minds
I've noticed that there is this undercurrent of Shawn present in almost every moment of the day.
I guess maybe he would have liked that. In his sickness.
It seems to be the same for Lily.
And, of course, when it's right there below the surface it can easily be dug up by the smallest thing.
Like tonight when Lily looked at the catsup on the meatloaf and laughed and said, "It looks like blood".
And then she got all serious and said, "Was Daddy bleeding when they found him?"
"Yes, Sweetie, he was."
"Was he bleeding a lot?"
"Yes, I think he was."
"Where did he shoot himself? Did he shoot himself in the heart?"
Pause...dinner is about to go on the table...she is only 9...she has spent the past year believing he shot himself in the heart (that would make sense if someone was sad, right?)...there is time to learn details when she is older. I read the death certificate and I know the truth. He shot himself in the right temple with a 9mm handgun.
"I don't know for sure, Sweetie."
I guess maybe he would have liked that. In his sickness.
It seems to be the same for Lily.
And, of course, when it's right there below the surface it can easily be dug up by the smallest thing.
Like tonight when Lily looked at the catsup on the meatloaf and laughed and said, "It looks like blood".
And then she got all serious and said, "Was Daddy bleeding when they found him?"
"Yes, Sweetie, he was."
"Was he bleeding a lot?"
"Yes, I think he was."
"Where did he shoot himself? Did he shoot himself in the heart?"
Pause...dinner is about to go on the table...she is only 9...she has spent the past year believing he shot himself in the heart (that would make sense if someone was sad, right?)...there is time to learn details when she is older. I read the death certificate and I know the truth. He shot himself in the right temple with a 9mm handgun.
"I don't know for sure, Sweetie."
Here I Am, Again...
Wow. Three years since I last wrote? Well, hello.
Life brings many changes in 3 years - and the need to write therapeutically "they" tell me.
The father of my two beautiful children, the man who I spent many times of joy with, the man who caused me great fear and pain...yes, that one.
He took his own life on my 40th Birthday, August 29, 2011.
A last statement from him, no doubt.
I've spent the past year ignoring my own feelings of grief - the sadness, the disbelief, the anger, the confusion as I helped my sweet daughter work through her own pain.
No surprise that this ostrich-like approach to my feelings has resulted in occasional bubbles rupturing to the surface.
I went to my therapist - the one who I had left the last three sessions thinking, "This woman does not LIKE me." (only to tell myself, "How pathetic is THAT?? Oh, boo-hoo, even my therapist doesn't like me"). And this time I left in tears feeling like a total failure.
Soooo...time for everyone's favorite chore - finding a new therapist. Ugh!
So maybe you, my readers, whoever you are will be my therapist for now. If you are reading, please let me know.
In peace,
J~
Life brings many changes in 3 years - and the need to write therapeutically "they" tell me.
The father of my two beautiful children, the man who I spent many times of joy with, the man who caused me great fear and pain...yes, that one.
He took his own life on my 40th Birthday, August 29, 2011.
A last statement from him, no doubt.
I've spent the past year ignoring my own feelings of grief - the sadness, the disbelief, the anger, the confusion as I helped my sweet daughter work through her own pain.
No surprise that this ostrich-like approach to my feelings has resulted in occasional bubbles rupturing to the surface.
I went to my therapist - the one who I had left the last three sessions thinking, "This woman does not LIKE me." (only to tell myself, "How pathetic is THAT?? Oh, boo-hoo, even my therapist doesn't like me"). And this time I left in tears feeling like a total failure.
Soooo...time for everyone's favorite chore - finding a new therapist. Ugh!
So maybe you, my readers, whoever you are will be my therapist for now. If you are reading, please let me know.
In peace,
J~
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