My husband died today

[NarcSis]

I didn't go hiking today, I went out to grab some groceries and missed her call. We've planned to go out tomorrow evening. It's a little exhausting for me, this sudden change in my days. That being said, it's giving me a taste of what I will be in for if I get a dog - there is no excuse not to get the dog out twice per day! Rain or shine or sleet or snow, that dog will still have to go outside. That being said, she admits in bad weather the dog just goes out into the back yard and does his stuff.

it has been a strange few days, busy, busy, busy and I feel like I have had no real rest or recuperation. I'm afraid to say no to my new friend but there are some things that I need to take care of as well in the upcoming weeks - his final tax return and finally settle this RRSP stuff. I've finally got the paperwork and all that is left is for me to take the paperwork to my RRSP company.

Once those things are completely finished, then everything with regard to 'Tin's estate will be settled. Then I can focus on "laying him to rest" and by that I mean, designing the memorial blanket for his mom, beginning to cut up his shirts (sniffle) and starting to let go of the remainder of his clothes. Such a tough step coming up.

I've been talking online with other suicide widows and some of them still have everything as it was the day their spouse died, the clothes are in the closet, in the drawers, shoes by the bed etc, etc. I agree that this is something that you shouldn't jump to get rid of but I think after two or three years you should probably start to make the effort to start letting go of the material side of things bit by tiny bit. Many of these women are stuck in their grief, they're hurting just as badly as the day it happened. It made me wonder if this is because they are unwilling to start to take those very necessary steps to move forward and reclaim their spaces as their own. That being said, I'll see how brave I am when I have to unpack his clothes and decide which ones to start cutting up.

I have had two nightmares in the past two nights. I didn't want to say anything to my sister because it's been two nights since she left, I don't want her to think I'm becoming dependent on her and NEED her here to make me comfortable. I really need my alone time. One nightmare left me shaken and I woke myself up because I was trying to yell. It left me wondering where it would have come from and why - in it I was stabbing a little girl. At first I was following her up several flights of stairs inside a house, it was like this house had no top, it just kept going from floor to floor to floor. Finally we came to a floor where the room was all pink, the walls were pink, there were pink butterflies on the white curtains, there was a pink fluffy thing around the lampshade, pink bedspread, etc. The little girl turned and ran at me, almost like she was going to attack me and I grabbed her and it was like it wasn't me but I saw my hands go out to grab her and I pulled her into my lap and started to stab her over and over in the stomach. In the dream I was crying hysterically and calling out my husband's name.

I have no clue where that came from. It was severely disturbing. In it I was somehow convinced that "releasing" this kid would bring back Tin, like he was somehow trapped in that house somewhere. It was all very ridiculous and disturbing. It took me a while to get back to sleep. I was worried that I would be too tired to get up for the morning hike - as it turned out, I didn't get out today anyway. So strange that I'm looking forward to sleeping in like "normal" again tomorrow.

Oh great, more fireworks tonight!!

I was thinking how it is so strange to think that my husband died by suicide, let alone to think that he is dead. It's like I'm in a denial stage again, somehow believing that it is all a mix up, he's somewhere else in the world working on some covert operation and he had to fake his death. Sadly, I'm not the only one with this, many military widows have convinced themselves of this very same thing. I never would have even imagined this had he not told me about this stupid organization that does this type of overseas work. I remember him asking me once about a year or two ago if I would mind if he "disappeared" for a few months for some good money and I didn't think he was serious, I doubt he ever sent an application. I mean, he IS dead, he killed himself, they took his gun, his body was ICE COLD, he was covered in makeup, I keep thinking if they'd just let me see him on that scene from a distance than I would have never had any doubts about his being dead - I would have remembered him dead, not life-like, dressed up and in a pine box. Had they just said to me, "When we got here, assessed him and there was nothing we could do for him, unfortunately he was dead." If they'd just used the word like they were taught!!

I've moved "him" to being "with me". I talk to him in the house, like today I came downstairs and said my usual, "Good morning Tin. I love you." and then said, "What do you want for breakfast?" pause, "Ha, we can't have pancakes every day silly!" The same routine we used to go through. I miss the hugs though, I really miss those.

When I got back from groceries, I talked to him about how expensive everything is getting and narrated everything I had bought to "him". I even asked him if he remembered how much Milk used to cost at Christmas time. I wish there was an actual answer because the grocery bill left me floored and I bought all of the discount brand items!!

It gets pretty lonely not having anyone to talk too. I wish he was just at work. I wish I could close my eyes and put everything back to normal again.

 

[Deleted member 12723]

:hug:

 

[NarcSis]

I went for another hike with my friend last night - these two hour hikes hardly feel like two hours because everything is so new and we're chatting the whole time. It struck me last night as she dropped me off at home why I was drawn to her almost immediately - she reminds me of his mom! Of course, she's a nice lady, she asks about you, she's warm and caring unlike his mom and she doesn't mind me talking about Martin because she understands. I'm trying to be wary of over-talking about him though, I don't want her to get tired of me talking in circles.

And it is circles, just when you think you've come to terms with some of those questions that can't be answered, they come up and start to bother you again. What did I miss? How could I have not known? Blaming myself for not acting soon enough. Feeling guilty for every single time I got mad at him. Feeling horribly guilty for being frustrated with him that night when he needed me to be soft and loving with him...I couldn't be what he needed, I tried, but I couldn't do it. I needed him to be the strong one. I needed him here for me. I couldn't be what he needed me to be in those moments because I was scared, I was afraid of him when he was sullen and silent. I learned long ago you don't poke the bear. Sometimes he'd accept comfort but other times he'd push you away and get angry or annoyed. I could never tell which mood was which when he was quiet. I didn't know he was sad. I didn't know he was THAT sad.

That's not sad, that's depressed.

That's not just one little occurrences worth of sad, that's a whole lifetime of sad compounded by one little occurrence. That is the straw that broke the camels back - how come I never knew my camel was carrying so much??? How come I was so blind to what he needed? Why didn't he say anything to me sooner? I could have tried to help. We could have made this okay again. We'd been through this before - he got these burnout phases when things in his life started to change, new partners, new stations, new people, his new shift pattern. He had difficulty adjusting to things and he was trying to deal with the fact that he didn't have a permanent partner and when he got a new partner, he couldn't adjust to this new guy. He was getting buried deeper and deeper in the stress of adjusting to changes.

I read an article that said that survivors of suicide often ask unanswerable questions and this I knew but what I did not know is that these questions will persist indefinitely and create an unending grief cycle persisting for the rest of the survivors life. I thought to myself, "Oh great, so on top of regular PTSD stuff, I'm going to have to deal with the after-effects of his suicide for the rest of my life too." Just what I need, huh? More reasons to work against me when I get suicidal ideation.

It makes it harder for me to find reasons to keep going, to keep holding on. For what? What is the point to my life anymore? I lived it for him. I didn't leave so it wouldn't hurt him. He was my "soft" one. He was the one who hugged and cared and felt everything so deeply. That's what I liked about him, he was the opposite to me, I was hard and cold and could endure things - until I met him and I became softer toward him. He was my baby. He was my one and only. He was mine, the only one I could trust to handle that part of me. It took a lot to be that person with him. I had to trust him so much to let that side of me show - he broke me down and got to see who I really was. I can't see trusting anyone like that ever again in my life. I can't see having enough time to not only get to know someone but establish that trust with them.

I'm going to be alone.

The sad thing is, I try to envision a future and I don't see me as old. I don't see me ill or infirm. I don't see me in another house or in that country home we imagined. I see myself as young, sitting on the railing of that porch, sipping cocoa from a mug and looking out over the lake toward the small dock. I don't know who's in that cottage with me, they're inside. I'm alone on that porch watching the sun set. Someone else is there, I just don't know who it is.

Where do we go when we die? What happens to everything I know? What happens to everything I am?

Where is he?

 

[Deleted member 12723]

:hug:

 

[NarcSis]

My friend didn't call for a hike tonight, but that's fine, it was super hot out today and we would have been dripping on a walk.

I was doing more reading today about survivors of suicide and had some of the things I had been worried about justified. Apparently, it is very common to not be able to remember the happier times, instead our minds get focused on finding signs of depression, so even happy memories are doubted. I've been doing this. I can't remember the happy in our relationship and it is another post loss symptom that is persistent. Again, the repeated questions that can linger for years but also the feeling of intense loss that is unlike any loss I've suffered before. This is very common with suicide loss. Apparently for all other losses there is a cause that we can come to terms with eventually, but with suicide there is no closure other than acceptance. I think I started with acceptance from the start, simply because I have been preaching about accepting suicide from the start - that is also what made this such a tragic hit to me. It was never anything I thought I'd ever have to deal with personally, or at least, that personally.

I've known suicides. I've lost people I've known to suicide in the past, If I were to list them they would be, a man I knew of Martin, my cousin *for the life of me I can no longer remember his name*, my cousins, Sean, Gord, Pat, Son; my friend, Al; a new kid from work, Steven; a kid I knew growing up, Len....my husband....there were more, but right now I can't remember them. All were hangings except Steven, who took his Dad's gun and shot himself in the head and my husband, who, well, you know already. My whole point was, although each of those was tragic and sudden and I could not understand them, my life was not directly affected by their loss and things went back to normal pretty quick for me. For me the closure came at the funerals. With my husband, there is no closure. He left too much unfinished. We closed a book mid-chapter, stopped reading mid-sentence and I'm not allowed to read anymore. There is no end to his story - that has to be it's end and I don't like that end. I never would have written that end to him.

I wanted the end where I go to sleep one night, old, frail and perhaps a little forgetful and he wakes up in the morning but I don't. I wanted him to know I loved him and that I gave him all of my days right to the end. I wanted him to see his 104th birthday knowing that I was still with him in spirit, loving him and waiting for him to join me after all of our worldly experiences had reached their rightful conclusions.

How could his worldly experience have even approximated being concluded on January 31st of this year? He still had so many years to go. So many years of life before it was even possible to get ill. We were living properly, We were eating properly. He just had his heart checked and he was healthy with a benign arrhythmia, He was so far from being sick. He was so far from dying.

I spoke to my new friend about the lack of warning, the seemingly simple trigger that led to his death. She echoed my concerns, the only difference between her and I is that her husband came to her and said, "I took all of these." and he's done this several times before because he suffers from chronic depression. My husband wasn't showing signs of depression! I keep saying this almost as though I'm trying to believe it myself. When I told his Dr. he even said to me, "I've just seen him, he wasn't depressed, he wasn't showing any symptoms of depression." Ummm, yeah, like I said....of course, when it came time to filling in the insurance paperwork he wrote that my husband was "experiencing stress due to his wife's post traumatic stress disorder." Thanks for that, I needed to foster that blame in my head.

I think back to that week. The Sunday, he and I went hiking in the park, it was snowy and cold but we hiked anyway. He worked his day shifts, 11-11, Monday to Thursday. He was sore and complaining constantly about his shoulder and his neck pain. He was feeling hopeless about the injuries getting any better. His sleep was interrupted most nights. On the Thursday he found out others on his platoon junior to him were getting interviews for Supervisor but he hadn't received notification. We texted back and forth about that, he was quite upset. On the Friday, he went to his physio appointment in the morning at either 9 or 10 am, I went with him and waited in the car, He came out upset, thinking that he was not going to go back to physio. I was worried he would get into trouble with workers compensation and have to pay back the full amount (as the physio people had threatened him when he first started treatment with them). We talked about it, He was still focused on the fact that they possibly broke his rib, so I told him to demand his x-ray results. We did some shopping at Walmart, he got enough windshield washer fluid to last us both the winter, he bought two large bags of road salt, we bought two packs of ribs because he wanted me to make them that upcoming week (his week off), a super large pack of pork chops to freeze for the week, he bought a huge package of pepperettes, his favorite; and we went to the liquor store where he bought us a large bottle of Irish Cream for the week and a six pack of Vodka coolers for that Saturday night's hockey game. We got take out from A&W on the way home, he got a Papa Burger, a Root Beer and Onion Rings and we drove to the park - taking a new way to get there. Instead of taking our usual route, I told him to go down the main street by our subdivision and turn right onto an access road and then take the Glasgow road down to the park. I remember he remarked, "I've never driven that way before, not since they put the new roadway in." It was stormy out. The wind was whipping the snow up against the car. We sat together for a while in the car after we finished eating. We just talked and he held my hand like usual. Finally we went home. Everything was normal. He played on his computer, I made us dinner, we watched TV and went to bed. He got up early the Saturday to go to his next physiotherapy appointment and I stayed home. He came home upset, beyond upset. The rest is history. He was dead 20 hours later.

Where did the urge to die well up from? What made him think there was no point left to his life? Where was that pain hiding in him? What was so insurmountable that he could not fathom living another day? Why didn't he just wait for me to get up!? Why didn't he just scream at me and get upset and cry? Why did he die? How did all of that come down to him dying????

None of it makes any sense to me. None of it and I think this is why it will bother me for the rest of my life. This was NOT how it was SUPPOSED to end. This is not the end I wanted and I'm sure it wasn't the end he wanted but it's the end we got and it sucks and I hate it and I can't change it. I can't change anything about it and it will haunt me the rest of my torturous days left on earth.

I want a do-over. I want him out of the container in the other room. I want him whole again. I want to hug him and kiss him and tell him everything is going to be alright. I want to make his pain better. I want him here, where he belongs.

 

[Pakadlangitok]

OH DEAR! This is so sad.........you are brave to post here and we are sending you warm thoughts!! Your words here, though brief, touch me a lot. I have had a lot of SI lately and the fact that you wrote this here not only touches us for you, but you sent us a message that we are loved, too and how much we would be missed. Your words made me cry for you and for the thoughts I have been having.
I am so sorry this happened to you. I am glad you posted. Reach out to everyone and anyone who will make you feel peace right now.

 

[Deleted member 12723]

:hug:

 

[NarcSis]

Went for another hour long hike tonight with my friend and her husband. He's a nice guy, we didn't talk much - he hikes way faster than we do, he's definitely in better shape than the two of us.

My mother in law called when I got home. She actually let me speak about what my husband was going through in those days leading up to his death. I'm not even sure if I ever told her that whole story about the physiotherapist hurting him, dislocating his rib and how they made sure to massage it back into place BEFORE they sent him for x-rays. I told her how they made him feel threatened right from the start, making him sign a waiver that if he didn't do the full 8 week workers comp sponsored course of treatment that he'd have to pay the remaining cost out of pocket, even if he chose not to continue. I'd never heard of that before. He didn't understand it and was stressed out about feeling obligated to continue treatment when they were just increasing his pain and hurting him more because he didn't want to have to pay for it out of pocket.

The whole thing was a recipe for disaster, utterly ridiculous and placed patients under stress into a more stressful situation. Essentially once you started treatment, no matter how bad that treatment was, you could not leave because you already signed the waiver! He did three weeks of treatment, he still had another five weeks to go and if he quit, he'd be left footing the bill for five weeks of treatment he wasn't going to get. He wanted to stop treatment but he was so afraid, he didn't know what else to do. He was trapped in a bad situation. Never should have happened. These people were supposed to be helping him to heal not making him feel obligated to their services alone. This is what happens when you put the business above the patient. Never should have happened this way. It was stress he didn't need on top of the stress he was already dealing with. His stress levels were already so damned high.

Uggh. Anyway, i'm not even sure if I've ever told his full story to his mom. For the longest time she really didn't want to talk about him, she mostly spoke of her with his childhood as a lead in. I'm not even sure who I told this whole story too, I was so messed up and struggling to look okay in those early weeks. I was faking it. I wasn't okay, I was way far from okay, but heaven forbid I let that side of me show, huh? Always gotta be there for others and put me second.

I'm still not "okay". I was so frustrated last night from lack of sleep that I hugged on his blanket/shirt and talked to him last night. I asked him if he was okay, where he was, if he's whole there or if he still has a hole in his side, is he young or old, will I ever be able to see him again, what becomes of us when we die...I told him "I've got you, okay? You don't have to be afraid, or sad, or angry. I'm holding you in my love and you are okay as long as I've got you." I worry about him wherever he is because he hated being alone - he would bar the doors at night when I was away, he had weapons hidden everywhere for ease of access. He would text me constantly and sometimes ask me to come home early - and yet, when I came home, he didn't greet me like he used to, in fact, in the past year, he didn't even blink an eye or say "hello" when I'd come home after being away for a few days. I worried endlessly about him and he hardly seemed to care that I was home. He used to put his computer aside, come trotting to the front door and give me hugs and kisses, but that stopped about a year ago and it annoyed me....or at least, he would acknowledge me having been away by saying "Hi." if he didn't get up from his laptop. About a year ago I noticed that it was like I was completely invisible, like it didn't matter if I was home or not.

He stopped wanting to do things. He stopped trying to make decisions. His standard answer became, "I dunno, whatever." and it annoyed me because I had such a difficult time making decisions myself. I was unable to do it and he was unwilling to do it, so often we'd end up sitting, bored, silently resenting one another I'm sure - I know it made me upset. I can just imagine what was stewing inside of his brain. In the end, did he have to have some kind of detachment from me to be able to do what he did?

I know he did the whole, "She'll be better off without me." bullsheet - it is by the way, it's all crap, it's not real, no matter how unloved you feel in those moments there is someone who is going to be shattered and completely destroyed by your death and that pain that you're trying so hard to escape from, well, you just pass it to someone else to endure. It's like a cycle of abuse, but its a cycle of pain. I'm not better off without him. He was irreplaceable. He was HIM and now there is no HIM in this world to make me feel whole again. Now I sit here fighting with intense emotions that try to suck me into the same predicament he found himself in. I struggle to not take my own life.

He was my lifeline. I was alive because of him. He told me I had everything to live for. He told me that I could not leave him alone, that leaving him would destroy him. He told me I was his beautiful, his love, the best thing that ever happened to him and the reason he was still alive - wow, I just remembered that, he said that once to me when i was having a particularly bad spell after I got fired for the PTSD. He said I was the best thing in his life and the only reason why he was still alive. So does that mean that he'd thought about dying before?

Anyway, he helped me to hang on. Now he's gone and no one that's left knows how to help me to hang on, they say all the wrong things. Ha, I just remembered that his mom used a phrase several times on the phone tonight that I cringed at each time she said it, "I was killing myself laughing." and "He was killing himself laughing." It struck me as odd, being the mother of a suicide, that she would use that phrase, maybe it's just me being overly sensitive but I can't even bring myself to use that phrase anymore. He killed himself and trust me, he was not laughing when he did it.

I wonder where all the pain that welled up that day came from. How deep did it really go? I know it wasn't just the stress he was under - we'd been through that kind of stress before, we survived each time. We'd been to hell and back several times over the years since my PTSD diagnosis; he'd been through some pretty bad burnout phases and survived before. Why this time? What was the recipe for disaster this time?

I kept looking at my friend's husband tonight and thinking, "My husband is dead. You're still here. Why did he have to succeed and you survived?" Her husband has a sadness about him that is palpable. You can see it when you look in his eyes. My husband had nothing but light in his eyes, sometimes it looked dim and shaded but his eyes were never far from looking like they were dancing with light. I guess her husband is in the regret/shame stage that people go through after a suicide attempt; he's depressed and I can see it.

If my husband was depressed, he hid it well, I didn't see it. I didn't see anything but burnout symptoms, irritability, a withdrawal from the things we liked doing in favor of playing on his computer that he said was a necessary attempt to de-stress, insomnia due to physical pain and just a general dissatisfaction with everything. He stopped being physically intimate with me over a year ago but our whole relationship was pretty well low on the intimacy scale anyway (he always had issues with anything of a sexual nature). This is why it was important for me to maintain the little teasing things we'd do each day, touching in some way, hugging several times, holding one another, kissing, he did this little thing where he'd come up behind me and pretend to hump my leg "Happy humps" like a dog and then he'd lick my face. LOL. We held each other and laughed every day, right up to the day before he went into crisis.

I'll never understand. I'll never have an answer to why he had to die that day. I will never know why I have to live out the rest of my days here alone.

I hugged his blanket/shirt last night and cried and cried. I'll never know why it had to be him.

 

[Tinyflame]

He said I was the best thing in his life and the only reason why he was still alive. He was my lifeline. I was alive because of him. He told me I had everything to live for. He told me that I could not leave him alone, that leaving him would destroy him. He told me I was his beautiful, his love, the best thing that ever happened to him and the reason he was still alive - wow, I just remembered that.. He said I was the best thing in his life and the only reason why he was still alive. So does that mean that he'd thought about dying before?

That's why I said:

where would he have been without you, or how short would have his life been without all the goodness & support & understanding you brought him?

Not just 'words' @Medic72 , I think I have an inkling. I would just add plus the love you gave.

Some people can't say 'stuff'

:hug: :hug: :hug: :hug: :hug:
Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

 

[Tinyflame]

But actually @Medic72 , he said a lot. You will never have to doubt how much he loved you, just remember that part. :hug: :hug:

 

[Deleted member 12723]

:hug:

 

[NarcSis]

My guts are being ripped out tonight, my soul is shredding again. I can't stand this pain. I can't. I am so damned sad, Christ, it's deeper than sad. It's unfathomable.

Why couldn't you just stay? Why couldn't you have just come to me? Why couldn't you have just f-ing come back to bed with me!!?? What in hell did you think was going to happen!? Of f-ing course you died!!! No one survives that.

Uggh, why couldn't he have been that one miracle? Why couldn't he have just survived? Why did it have to happen that way? Car accident, f-ing heart attack, hell murder, why did he have to kill himself!!??

God, I'm living in hell right now....and I had such a good day only to have it suddenly be obliterated by this well of devastation. I was crying hysterically and screaming his name over and over and just asking him Why - why- why!!? I needed him. I have no one to love anymore, I could never love someone else that way. He was IT. He was all I've ever known. He was my entire world. Arrrrrgh!!!!! How does this type of pain not just kill you? How are we supposed to endure this?? What is the purpose of hurting this badly!?

God!!! This was so not him. He wasn't THAT guy! He wasn't irrational - no wait, he had a tendency to get paranoid irrational at times but 98% of the time he was the Level Headed, Calm, Patient, Understanding, Voice of Reason!! Where in hell did his reason go?? How could his own brain forsake him so badly in those moments??

God, is he safe now? Is he still hurting? Is he in hell? Is he in purgatory? What did he believe would happen to him? Where did he go? Why can't I contact him? Why can't I just feel him??? I just need to know he's okay. I just need to know. I can't trust, I have no more trust. I just need to know, Tin.

I'm worried about him. He's dead and I'm still worried about him. When does my pain end?

I went to a friends house to visit today (mom with a 3 month and a 3 year old) who i envy because she seems like she's so got it together balancing the zoo. I needed to get out of the house. I had the urge to run. I was afraid I'd run into an overpass. I just needed to DO something. I reached out, she invited me over. We got to talk. I got to talk more emotionally. She remarked how I'm doing so well, I retorted that it's all an image I'm very practiced at. It hurts so badly, like I can't even explain how badly it hurts. Did not lose it in front of her kids....wanted too but held it together.

Some days I don't understand "dead". It makes no sense to me and it just drives me insane. I cannot fathom him being "dead". I can't. I go to her house, I see her helping her hubby get ready for work, she makes a remark about "going through the checklist" I think, "We did checklist every time he went to work." I want to cry. I want to get angry at the world for having stupid happy couples blessed with children and a perfect pet and love that is still ALIVE. Her husband is alive. Mine is not. Mine is dead. He doesn't smile or laugh or text me or poke me or snug me or hold my hand. He's just dead. He's not here anymore. He's not anywhere in the world anymore.

How does that happen??? How??

I wasn't prepared. He wasn't sick. It wasn't expected. There was no reason. There can never be a reason. My friend remarked how her mom died three years ago and her husband still isn't willing to "move on" and "deal with it" and she said, "Ummm, hello? I was her Daughter and I realized that things had to get taken care of!" I almost said to her, it's not the same. It's not. I didn't want to ever know what my mom was going through when she lost my dad. I never imagined understanding that on anything but a superficial level. Now I understand her loneliness, her depression, her nights crying endlessly - he was her whole life, she'd never known anyone else. I see why she only lasted 8 years after he died. It kills. It really does. Her step dad is going through that still, he doesn't know how to cope.

That pain is unbearable. My friend lost her Mom, not her "everything, her world, the love of her life". Nope, she's still got all of that...he doesn't anymore. He doesn't know how to deal with it so he just doesn't.

i had no choice. Everyone looked to me and expected me to function. I had no choice. I don't want to function. I don't want too. I want to throw in the towel, tap out, hit the showers, toss the white flag and just go away for a little while. I don't want to check out, I want to check in to somewhere where I don't have to worry about caring for me - I just need a break. I want to be free to scream at the top of my lungs without worrying anyone. I want to be free to cry as hard as I can without feeling like my heart is going to burst open.

Every time I have a middle of the day or evening meltdown in this house I get the neighbors the next day conveniently running into me in the driveway and asking if everything is okay - my one male neighbor said, "Is everything okay?" and when I said, "Yeah, I'm fine." He squinted his eyes, studied me and said, "You're sure?" Well, what am I supposed to day to him, "F no it's not okay my husband SHOT HIMSELF - would YOU be okay after that???"

is it ever going to be okay again? Like seriously?

I keep thinking how ironic it is that my husband had a laparoscopy scar on the right side of his tummy and the first time I saw it, I ran my finger across it and said, "What is this?" and he told me it was his "bullet hole". Considering he put a gun to his side - that same side - and pulled the trigger.....no one would understand that if I told that story. It was his bullet hole. It sounds so sinister now but all those years it was an innocent joke.

I need him back. I keep thinking maybe I'll be the one miracle, the one who actually gets her wish. Magical thinking. Extreme thinking error.

I don't want him dead. I never wanted him dead, He belonged here with me, safe, sure not every completely happy, but SAFE and with ME. I miss him so much right now.