My hubby has other RRSP accounts with other institutions, so I will be getting some money but it will have to stay in locked accounts until I'm 65, so it's pretty well useless to me right now. One of his portfolio managers contacted me today and nearly cried when expressing his condolences, again, "He was the greatest guy, so warm and personable. I'm just in shock." His Portfolio Manager!!!
It just reinforces the fact that the man who left here angry and lost that morning WAS NOT my husband. It frightens me to say this, but had I actually gone down early like I keep berating myself for not doing, would he have turned that gun on me or would my presence have been sufficiently guilt inducing to have stopped him - I'll never know these answers. I just never will and that is sad.
I accidentally called his name today. It was just automatic, my sister did something and I said, "Hey, Tin, check this out." I'd said it without any conscious realization, it was just automatic. I felt extremely depressed after I did it.
I finally addressed the media today, via email, which I think is likely the most they will ever get out of me, I'm so not a spotlight person or anyone who can think on the spot anymore. I prepared a formal statement and sent it out the the various outlets equally so that no single one had a "scoop". Mostly I spoke of presumptive legislation and first responder stress, never admitted to anything I've experienced other than to say I have PTSD. It's best to keep their bright lights away from me, if I've inadvertently become some poster child for PTSD, it wasn't my intention.
God, I miss him. I just miss him so, so much I just can't even describe this feeling. I go from sad, to sorrow-filled to depressed, to sullen and back to sad again. On top of that, I'm frustrated, angry, I'm confused and I'm trying to place a smile on my face for the sake of others. I think even right now, my brain is so busy trying to process this that a lot isn't even registering on it anymore - I flushed the toilet today and only slowly left the room. My heartrate didn't skyrocket. My body didn't feel panic, I just didn't feel anything. That being said, I was exposed to a lot of uniforms today and it generated some classic anxiety symptoms.
I keep picturing him...dead in his car. I see a smiling photo of him and I can't help but see a gunshot wound in his side and his eyes blank. It's not trauma, it's just disturbing and extremely depressing and confusing. Big Smile / Dead. These two things just don't compute in my head.
I'm never going to see him again. :(