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