Friday, November 9, 2007
I have gone to therapy, I have read every book I can find, and I have spoken to my closest friends at length. The counselor, the books, and one friend in particular have all said the same thing. Journal it, you need to tell your story, write again. Well, since it seems to keep coming up, I guess it's time to jump in and do it. Be warned! It's a LONG story! I'd like to say it begins in a land far, far away and has a nice fairytale ending, but this story just plain doesn't. Can you tell that I am procrastinating? It's almost as if I don't really tell the story, it couldn't have possibly happened for real. It's a nightmare, and I am going to wake up. I haven't woken up. It's real, and I know that. I just don't want to. So, here goes nothing...
It's Monday morning, March 12th. I am sitting at my desk at work, probably daydreaming, when my phone rings, sending my 10 feet out of my chair! It's my wonderful husband(WH), and I automatically know something isn't right. He never calls in the morning, only when he's done for the day and on his way home. "Can you call your brother? He didn't show up this morning."
Now, the sinking feeling I got in my stomach was nothing new when it came to my beloved brother (BB). BB had a way of making you worry and stress about him pretty consistently. He'd just had a tooth pulled, his car broke down, he was out of money, and that little black cloud just seemed to be following him everywhere. The night before, he had called me and was telling me how he didn't know how he was going to get to work because he had no money for gas. Well, normally I'd just give him twenty bucks, call it a loss and be done with it. I didn't have it. Payday was still 3 days away, and we weren't sure our cars would get us through with the gas left in them. He called again later, and WH spoke to him. (They worked together, which really built a great bond that they both needed.) Hubby talked to him for a while and calmed him down. Told him to get some sleep, and BB's last word to him were "See ya in the morning."
I called BB at 9:06 am. No answer. I left a message that Mom & I were worried & Hubby said you didn't show up for work, please call me. ( I called my Mom first to see if she had heard from him. She couldn't reach him either.) So, now that he wouldn't answer a call from even my Mom, she panicked. I told her to call my Aunt and get my 3 year old little lady to her, and I would take Mom to BB's apartment. (He'd only been in it for a month, and none of us had been there yet except WH.) Called WH to find out exactly where the apartment was. Came home, got Mom - little lady was safely deposited at my Aunt's - and off we went.
My mother was visibly shaking. She'd had a conversation with BB the day before. He admitted he was depressed and that he was scared. She begged him to stay at her house that night. He told her he would be ok and PROMISED not to do anything"stupid". She said to me on our way "He has all those guns". I thought, yeah, and we're going there to fight with him because he overslept and just doesn't seem to care about anything anymore.
A mother always knows. The car was in the driveway, and we knocked and pounded on the door for a few minutes. The door was unlocked. We went in. The tv was on in his room. He had done it. He had taken his life. At 10:21 am I called 911.
BB was passionate about guns. Went to the range every weekend - WH would go with him sometimes. Taught me how to shoot a gun when we went upstate. He was also insanely responsible with them. When he lived at my parents house, little lady was NEVER to go into his room where he kept them, even though they were locked up and the bullets were kept somewhere else. And what he was so passionate about is what he used to end his life.
I'd like to say that the rest is all a blur after we found him, but it's not. I remember every single detail down to the way the lights were positioned on the funky light fixture in his living room. There's so much more I know I need to tell. And I will get to it...