In a foreign land

Yesterday started just like any weekend. Loniliness gripping my throat all night, work in the morning. Despite all of the sleep and "normal" nightmares of the last few weeks, my bed is still a desolate place for this widow at night. The plan was to leave the little one with the Teenagers so I could work a full day to replace a day next week. Saturdays are usually quiet in the office. I can sit in the dark listening to music and trip away. The same old drama started just as one foot was out the door. Almost made it all the way to the car. Cringing, I walked back into the house, removed my coat and shoes. I am doomed. Nights followed by mornings like this make me want to throw my hands in the air and collapse on the ground until my body decomposes into dust. It is always the same story, always the same words, always the same ending.

 There are times I wake feeling like a bird about to take flight. Times I am ready for the day's adventure to begin. The only times it is good is when I am alone. The rest of the time with the largest smile on my face, I am pulled back into reality by the heavy metal schackles on my ankles. Makes it sound as though my children are a terrible burden. This is not totally correct. While it is true life is different when one lives with kids, it was ultimately my choice to bring them into this world. I made the concious decision to surrender my life to them. While I do not regret these decisions, sometimes there is only enough energy in my poor body to maintain only one person. 99.89 % of the time, I split this between them. Anyway, after almost an hour of gnashing teeth, I dressed the little one and we were off to work. I knew it would only be possible to work about 4 hours instead of the 8 I planned, but any time spent at work this weekend is less time I have to spend there next week. My baby girl was better than I could have dreamed. She sat quietly sucking her thumb while listening to music for the entire 4 hours.

I took her out for lunch to reward her good behavior and to buy us a little more time away from work. As we drove, she told me she had a nightmare last night but she did not want to tell me about it because she was afraid it would frighten me. I told her she could tell me anything because I am very brave. Suddenly, there were tears in her eyes. "Mommy, I dreampt you were dead. I never want you to die. You are my best friend and I would miss you forever." She knocked the wind out of me. She followed with, "Will you live with my Daddy again when you die? I am so glad kids never die because I am very scared to die."

There are times I can convince myself I am just a widow. My husband just died. There are times like these when I have to face the cold fact that I am a widow by suicide. My beautiful husband. My little one's loving father intentionally placed a 12 gauge shotgun into his mouth and blew his head off. Some day I will have to explain this to her. Although I will not use graphic detail. The fact remains that she asks often how he died. I understand the reasons he took his life, but will she?