Bumps in the Road

Earlier this week the Detective on Richard's case came by to tell me that they were closing the case. He also needed a signature from me on the form releasing the shotgun because I didn't want it back.  There are so many holes in the timeline of that morning and I asked him questions. Perhaps it would have been better not to know, but I have found that every piece of information helps me to process what happened that day. And at times I feel I am desperate to make sense of it all, as if that is even possible. 

The death certificate states he died between 5 and 6 am.  I knew he did not hit send on the email he wrote to me until 5:47, so why did they think he could have died earlier?  I asked the detective and was told that a security camera showed the Jeep pulling into the parking lot at 5am.  If each day is a step forward in healing, this information set me back miles.  I had always thought he was on autopilot and that it all happened incredibly fast, before he could think about it, or talk himself out of it.  But now I know better. I know that he sat in the back of that parking lot for at least 47 minutes before he got out and took his own life.  Did he try to talk himself out of it? Did he consider calling me and asking for help?  Did he just sit there in complete mental darkness for such a long time, sinking deeper into despair each minute?

When someone we love passes away, we find comfort in knowing it was quick and the suffering was short.  But to know that someone has suffered so deeply for any length of time is devastating.  The wounds in my heart, which will never heal properly, were torn open again and I feel as though the mourning process has started over.  I ache for my poor lost husband who felt he had to bear his burdens all on his own.  I am so sad he he felt all alone.

For a couple weeks after his death I felt so much guilt about not knowing, not getting him help, not saving him.  My mind understands it was not my fault, but my heart still struggles with this.   I am working through those feelings and I think my subconscious attempted to help with that through a dream I had a few weeks ago.  I was with Richard in the hospital. He was in a hospital bed.  We were told he was being released and I could take him home.  In my mind I knew we only had moments left and that he was about to die.  He got out of the bed and as we walked to the door together, he fell to the ground. I knelt beside him and knew he was going to die and I held him as he passed away.  In that dream I knew there was nothing I could do to stop what was going to happen.  But I got to be with him, to ease his last moments and help him feel my love for him.

I wish so much that I could have eased his burdens at the end.  What I wouldn't give to have been able to hold his hand through his suffering.  But I am also coming to the realization that there was nothing more that I could do.  We had a loving marriage. I expressed my love to him often. I liked to tell him, "I don't just love you, I adore you".  I knew he had huge things he was struggling with and I was here to help him, but I also knew there were things he wasn't comfortable sharing.   He was a wonderful husband and I tried to be a good wife.  I think that some damage just runs too deep.  There was so much distrust for others throughout his early life that I think that carried over into our marriage.  Through no fault of his or mine, he just couldn't trust that I would always be here for him.  Which is incredibly frustrating to me, given all we have gone through together, and the fact that I was still here!  I feel I have been blessed with compassion and great understanding of his trials in life and how they affected us.  It is because of this that I feel no anger towards him.  I still love him and still look forward to eternity with him.  I have a journal in which I write to him.  In it I remind him often to work hard to do those things he needs to do to be ready for us as we join him one by one.  A friend said to me that she believes the healing he needed could only happen in the arms of the Savior.  What a beautiful picture that brings into my mind.