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?"

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…

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

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

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."

Dear Former Husband

I am writing to you here because it would be pointless to try to communicate these things to you in real life. Were you a rational person I might give it a go but, having tried so many times for so many years, I already know that you reside on a different planet and there is no space shuttle that could seem to bridge the gap!

First of all...I am still probably really mad at you but I haven't allowed myself to "go there" because, again, what would be the point? I am SO incredibly happy to be free of you, your rules, and your judgments that I have figured why dwell on the past?

Yet I still have to deal with you now because of the kids and I have, and will continue to, be positive with them about how much their Daddy loves them and validate their love for you.

My therapist tells me the reason why I have dreams where I'm really angry at you is because I AM but because I refuse to acknowledge this while I'm awake it has to come out somehow.

So...now is my chance to tell you a few things...
The funny thing is that even though you've been sober for around 18 months - you're still the same manipulative, bitter person you always were. Everyone else is screwing you and taking advantage of you. You are smarter than everyone else. Your rules are better than how everyone else does things. Everyone else is stupid and should be punished if they don't follow your rules or EVEN WORSE if you have to do something you don't want to do.

I think the point I'm trying to make here is that, YES I am angry. I don't like you. Your opinions of me are unwelcome and unacceptable.

I will continue to keep to myself all of the terrible things you did and not bring them up with you, nor share them with your supporters (Mom and Dad and the fiance). Believe it or not, even your friends can see through you. They think it's really strange that you became engaged to and moved into your daughter's Kindergarten teacher's house within 2 months of your first date. Did you bother to tell your fiance or your parents WHY YOU HAD ONLY ONE overnight/week in the Parenting Plan? It's not because I'm a bitch - it's because you passed out repeatedly while they were in your care and because you were emotionally abusive to them while drinking (remember the line about how you were going to "grab my cat by his fucking tail and slam his skull into the concrete?" - did you share that one with your fiance and her two cats).

People have known your business was going to fail from the minute I was out of the picture and you opened up in the most expensive location in town with no real plan other than to "sell a lot".

Even though you continue to minimize what I did for your business, your clients, your friends, your family all know that it was ME and my skills that made your business what it was. Without me you would have been some guy wrenching in his garage. You telling me that the things on my resume were "overstated" and that they were "between me and my employer" hurt me alot. Again. But I have been working on it, figuring out why it was I still thought that I would get approval from you or why I needed it. I guess maybe it would have been some sort of apology to hear that you valued what I had done? Silly, huh?

Speaking of which, can I also mention that everyone who hears that you kept my bike thinks it is about the shittiest thing? They don't know the half of it!

Let's see...what else is there...I know there must be more inside...

Oh, yeah, your suicide note to me...the one that you saved somewhere and kept secret from me for 5 years - only to give it to me with a fresh addendum as our divorce unfolded. You remember that one? The one titled "The Top 10 Reasons to Blow My Fucking Head Off" - I've mentioned in there a few times.

In turns out I was the #1 reason. And, of course, let's not forget the line - "Hope finding my headless corpse doesn't fuck you up too bad, bitch!"

Maybe it would have fucked me up less than spending the next 5 years of my life living with someone who:
*  Resumed drinking, drank to the point of blacking/passing out EVERY SINGLE NIGHT (kind of hard to feel like having sex with someone who was laying on the carpet with drool running out of his mouth the night before)
*  Had me cowering in fear that his anger was going to snap at some point and he was going to stab me (for some reason I always thought that's what it would be).

You're really quite a winner!

Do you remember when we first worked together? You were always so sarcastic that I asked one day, "Do you hate me or are you always like this?" - well it turns out after 15 years it was both! You did hate me and you are always like that. Of course, at 20 years old I thought, "Gee. This guy acts like he hates me but says he doesn't. I think I should marry him!" Guess I'm not so smart either.

Let me flip through my mental rolodex here - we had had a lot of years together...I know there are other things I am angry about.


Oh yeah, you telling me a year before the divorce finally happened that even the first year we were married that you used to stay late at work because you dreaded coming home to me. Why didn't you just leave then? I was 22! I could have done something totally different with my life other than giving you my inheritance and sacrificing my career for your business and subjecting myself to emotional abuse.


Other "deal breakers" other than those listed above (passing out with the kids in your care being a big one)...
The big scene you caused in front of the kids when I asked you to spend the night at a friends house because when I asked you, "Would you ever hurt me?" you replied, "Why would I fuck up my life like that?". Remember that one, where the kids and I were crying, you almost pulled my arm out of its' socket, and then you drove off so drunk you were about to pass out after threatening to drive yourself into the reservoir? Yeah, that was a deal breaker.


And the funny thing is that this happened a full year before the divorce. I called your Dad and your Sister and all your friends. I finally had to tell them you had been drinking about 16 drinks every night and that you had been suicidal for a long time. I thought they would help you. And us. But they couldn't. And they don't seem to remember this now - and of course, anyway, you were only like that because I was such a horrible bitch.

Well...I'm getting really tired of writing this. It's all pretty boring to me now. I've been thinking about and/or supressing all of this stuff for so long and I'm really not interested in continuing to let it bother me.

As I said, Former Husband, your opinions and judgments of me are unwelcome. I choose to air your "dirty laundry" here because only 4 people who also know you even know of the existence of this blog. Everyone else in your life will eventually figure you out and see you for who you are, as will your children, I don't need to help them get to that point by telling them what you did to me.

Signed,
Your Former Wife Who Quit Trying to Please You 2 Years Ago but Who Should have Quit Trying 15 Years Ago.