My Days

I can't let this day go by without acknowledging you, Scott. A year ago, it was the last full month of your life. I was busy working on my memoir and exercising at rehab. John and Debbie had just finished their visir with us and had gone back to Connecticut and you had just been discharged from the hospital. I thought you were going to feel better. Otherwise, why would you be discharged? And I had no idea you had a gun! I keep wondering, how could they discharge you, knowing you had a gun? Why didn't they let us in on what was going on with you?

The questions keep coming back. And what good would the answers do, even if I knew them? They won't bring you back. Nothing will bring you back. And it's hard for me to accept, you are gone.

This is the haunting hour. The time in the evening just as the sun is leaving. This is the saddest part of the day for me. I don't know why, but thoughts of you bring a deeper sadness this time of day.

Tonight, again, as I look out my window and see the empty streets, notice how the neighborhood seems so quiet and still, I feel the emptiness of your absence. I try to imagine you alive, try to think how it would feel knowing you were alive and safe. And I realize that your death has narrowed my vision. In every way. I feel I'm in a box. And the air is heavy. When I imagine you alive, the walls disappear. Space is endless and the air is fresh. I can breathe. My muscles relax. I am content.

But your aliveness is only a wish. I can't make it true. And the knowledge devestates me.

I'm keeping vigil, Scott. I know the days. I'm remembering you. I love you so very much. And I miss you more than I could ever have imagined.

July 25, 2000

how many secrets?

I have to tell you something, Scott. Something I've known for quite a few months but have been too incredulous and too embarrased to share. I know about your interest in Heaven's Gate. Months ago I had the "computer doctor" retrieve what was on your laptop. Like your desktop, most of your folders were gone. But I did come upon pictures and information you downloaded about Heaven's Gate and their mass suicide.

Scott, I was shocked! Why were you so interested in that cult that you downloaded pages from their site? Their mass suicide happened in 1997. Were you already, then, thinking about taking your own life?

It shakes my very core to realize I didn't really know the important things about you. Each new discovery now widens the gap between us. I picture you, the way you looked -- your dark hair, your big brown eyes, moustache, eyeglasses, the way you dressed, and I wonder who you were. A stranger I didn't know? Or were you the person I thought I knew but suffering an illness which made you appear to be a stranger? And if ill, why? What caused the change? Had you just reached your limit of stresses that you could handle?

When I think back, I believe there were subtle changes after you joined the Air Force, especially after your marriage to Sue. There was less communication between us. But Sue and I talked on the phone a lot and I sent packages regularly to the kids. I thought you were getting my communications through Sue and I thought you were too busy to write. That was the pattern I knew in my own family. Dad let Mother take care of the relationships. And your Dad let me do the same in our family.

But you know, Scott, I always felt I could trust my gut instincts. Now, I don't know. I don't trust anything.

I'm so confused, Scott. Who do I mourn now? A figment of my imagination? Or a real person? I don't know anything any more. My world is shattered and uncertain.

July 22, 2000

long day

Scott, I still don't know how to fill my days so that I seem to be involved in my life. I look forward to finishing my writing assignments so I can have a little down time. Then, when I finish, I dread the time ahead until the next assignment because I don't know how to fill a space with you not in it. There are things I need to do, like laundry, clean out the fridge, pack up your things and stack them neatly on shelves in the utility room. But I am frozen. I sit, like I used to when you were here and I was depressed about my life, and play solitaire on my computer. Over and over, I play, boring myself but unable to move. Automatic click of the mouse. It's hypnotic. Everything is second nature now. No need to think. I win the games easily.

The days are empty. It scares me to think what I would do if I didn't have my writing. I long for contact with you. Something I saw, or heard, I want to share with you, have a laugh with you, get your opinion about something. Make plans, with you in them. Thinking about you was second nature. Now, I find myself trying to not think of you. Because I don't know what to think. I'm weary with painful thoughts, and all thoughts about you seem to be painful. And with you not here to make our family complete, life doesn't seem worthwhile.

It's been pouring rain for days. But the sun is out today. Ordinarily the sun is like a magic potion to me. It brings me right out of the dooldrums. Not today. Today, nothing helps.

Your dad wanted me to go with him to Steak and Ale for our noon meal. I couldn't. He wants to know if I will ever feel like going again. I don't know. I just know I can't be there now, the place we always went with you for special occassions -- birthdays, your graduation, visits home, to celebrate your divorce, your separation from the service. I couldn't. My stomach would turn into knots.

I'm feeling that old nausea I felt right after you shot yourself. Sometimes I think I'll choke on my food. I hope this is an anniversary syndrome because I really do want to be able to enjoy what life I have left. Soon that dreaded anniversary will be here. I feel conflicted about it. Part of me would like it to pass without my noticing. The other part wants to be with you in that day, no matter how painful. In fact, I don't want that day ever to arrive. When the first year is up, I feel you are farther away. And I don't want that to happen.

It's been hell, Scott. And now, almost a year later, I feel dull and bored with life. I think I'll go clean out the refrigerator.

Hi, honey. I've been working hard on a slim volume for you. It's all I've done for several weeks. I think I just about have everything I'm going to include in it. Now I must do some tough editing and arrange the pieces.

It's been rough, going through all the writing related to you -- these letters, diary entries, prose, poetry, and the hardest of all, letters you have written. Yesterday afternoon I reached my limit of sorrow and I wept. I think maybe I started this too soon. Maybe I'm not ready for this kind of punishment, but I am old and I want to be sure and get it done. Hard as it was, and is, I'm glad I've done it, tears and all.

Today is my birthday. And it's going to be a rough day. I miss your special birthday card, your phone call. You never forgot. But the hardest part of this day is, it's the day before you were admitted, last year, to Shawnee Hospital because you were feeling suicidal. It is the beginning of what I see as a downward spiral that led to your death. It was to be seventeen days before you took your life.

So this is not a day of celebration for me. It never will be again. This day will always be a sad reminder of your and my loss.

You dad wanted to take me to a nice restaurant for a birthday lunch but I don't feel festive. We drove to Harter House and got ham and cheese for sandwiches. We'll eat at home.

The skies are gray to match my mood. It's just as well. The sun would be too bright for such a sad day.

Well, honey, I'll be on my way. I just wanted to say hi on this day. I think of you always and I love you.