Getting It Out (Part 2)

Some details are very fuzzy. Some are crystal clear. It's amazing what the mind remembers and what it forgets. Memories and memories of memories. Some things are mixed up and may be wrong. I've recalled that night a thousand times and I doubt I have remembered it exactly the same twice.

Nothing stands out about that previous evening. We had been having a lot of problems maritally, but it had gotten relatively quiet. We were approaching good terms again. Things were settling down to the point that we could be civil with one another and even sleep in the same bed. We were starting to see things on the same level and it was getting better (not the marriage itself, but our ability to understand why it wasn't working). As I said, there was nothing peculiar at all about the evening. I'm pretty sure we laid in bed, her watching TV and me reading. It was a calm evening and there were no harsh words spoken and feelings of animosity. There were no I love yous, either. The TV was eventually turned off, the lights flipped off, we said our good nights and went to sleep.

I woke up in the middle of the night, around 2 am, hearing Laura breathing strangely. It seemed like she was having a dream of some sort. I was foggy and just wanted to go back to sleep, so I gave her a slight nudge hoping to settle her down a bit, maybe rouse her from her dream. I didn't want to wake her and my easy prodding didn't do anything, so I got up and went to sleep on the couch. I had spent more than a few nights out there the past few weeks, so it was just natural for me, I guess. I dropped onto the couch, pulled the blanket over me and fell right to sleep.

I expected to be awoken around 5 am by the sound of Laura feeding the cats or jumping in the shower getting ready for work. Instead I was met by her alarm going off. I laid there waiting for her to shut it off. It never takes her more than a couple of seconds. In fact, her alarm never woke me up because she shuts it off so fast. But not today. A couple of minutes go by and still nothing. The radio was blaring. She'll be up in a minute, I thought. I'll just go ahead and crawl back into bed until she gets up. It's pitch black in the house, but I don't need light. I walk down the hall still half asleep, go into the bedroom and slip into bed next to her. I lay there for another minute or two, yet still the alarm blares. I nudge her gently. Nothing. I gently shake her arm. No response. Her body feels heavy. My senses slowly begin to enter my head. Something is wrong. I get up and walk over to her side of the bed. It's still pitch black, but I feel her alarm until I hit the right button. I shut it off and start to shake her a little bit more, softly calling out her name. She's not responding. Her body is just a heavy weight. Something is really wrong. Why won't she wake up? I call her name louder and louder. Panic starts to set in. WAKE UP! I go over to the switch and flip the light on. She's on her back with the covers pulled up above her chest. Her arm is hanging off the side of the bed. It's almost entirely purple. Her lips are purple. Her mouth is slightly open. Her eyes are slightly open. They're distant. I know instantly. She's dead.

I grab her phone and call 911. They answer quickly. I demand an ambulance. I tell them my wife won't wake up. She's not breathing. SHE'S DEAD. They ask if I know CPR. I say no. I can't possibly think of what to do and I need help. I need instructions. They ask if I can pull her onto the floor so she's on a hard surface. Not a chance. I'm totally out of sorts and completely freaked out. I can barely stop sobbing long enough to hear the instructions. Hold her nose. Put my mouth on hers and blow in. Her whole body is heavy and solid. I breathe my air into her lungs. My wits again creep back in. I give her chest compressions. I already know it's useless. She's gone. She's been gone for a long time. Still, maybe there's a chance. Anything is possible. I hear the sirens pull up. They arrive quickly, though it seemed like an eternity. The front door is locked. The dogs are out. I run out of the room, put one dog away and unlock the front door. I usher in the paramedic quickly. It's just him and me. We run back to the bedroom. He asks me to help move her on the floor. I grab her arms. Her cold, lifeless arms. He grabs her legs and we move her to the floor. There's not enough room. We have to move her to the family room. We drag her limp body out there. I can't do anymore. He doesn't need me anymore. He starts CPR. Others start coming in. I collapse in the hallway, convulsing in a heap. I can do nothing but cry. Still more people keep coming in. Paramedics. Cops. Someone tries to comfort me. I vaguely remember being told to breathe. I'm not sure how I managed to even do that.
They put Laura in the ambulance and head to the hospital. I can't go. Brenna is sleeping and I can't leave her. Brenna. Oh God. Poor Brenna. At some point I managed to call my mom. I don't remember when. The timeline is a blur. I don't remember what I said. I just remember telling her to come now. I can't go to the hospital until she gets here to stay with Brenna. Poor Brenna. I also call Laura's parents at another point. I think right after the ambulance had left. How do you tell your wife's parents that their 29 year only child is in the back of an ambulance on her way to the hospital. And she's dead. But nobody has confirmed it. I don't think I told them she was gone, just that they needed to get to the hospital right away because Laura wasn't breathing.

Nobody would give me answers. I made my way to sitting up on the couch, still crying uncontrollably. I ask if she's dead. Nobody will answer me. Nobody will tell me anything. If she were alive they'd tell me. They know she's gone. A detective comes over and introduces himself. He reminds me to breathe and tells me if I don't I will pass out. He tells me the news. She never woke up. She was gone. Forever. I can't cry any harder. I already knew, but hearing it was something different altogether. This made it official. No miracles. I wasn't wrong.

So much of the rest of the morning is a haze. The questioning. What happened? How did it happen? Why? Why? People are showing up. Mom. Brothers. Friends. I have to tell them all. Over and over. Every new person. Neighbors outside wondering what in the world happened. I have to make phone calls. More family. Friends. Work. Laura's friends. The babysitter. Brenna's still asleep. Our little Brenna. Peacefully resting as our world is ripped apart below her. She will never again get to see her mother. I will never again get to see my wife. So many questions. So much regret. So much pain.

Much like that morning, the day was a total whirlwind. I make phone call after phone call. Breaking heart after heart. Reliving the nightmare again and again. Saying it over and over. Hearing the reactions. Incredulous. Confused. Angry. Suspicious. So many reactions. So many phone calls. So many people. People have to know. Nothing will stop. Life doesn't wait. No time to think about anything. Denial doesn't step in. Depression does. Deep sadness. Nothing will be the same. I don't know if anything will ever be OK again. I don't know how it could be. Doesn't matter, because it has to be. Brenna needs it to be. She's lost her mom. She needs her dad more than ever, and she needs him better than he was before. There is no alternative.

The next several weeks and months will be a literal hell. The waiting for answers. The grieving. The sadness. The pain. The accusations. The hate. It's all there. It's all on me.

Getting It Out (Part 1)

It has been a very good weekend, as far as weekends go. The good weekend didn't stop the inevitable creep of sadness that has fallen over me. Great and wonderful events that I enjoy stir a sadness within me. I attended a very lovely wedding on Saturday and didn't really notice the pain building once again. I should have. I should have expected and known. I guess I still have my moments of naivete. I don't walk around with my guard up, so it happens. It's OK, I know how to take a shot or two.

The couple getting married were two friends I had gone to school with. The bride was one of Laura's best friends. Laura's name was even mentioned on the ceremony itinerary. It was a wonderful gesture and remembrance. She wanted Laura there so bad to share this wonderful moment with. I can understand. Brenna and I attending was, as is the case many times, both a blessing and a painful reminder.

That was Saturday. As I said, it was a good weekend. Friday was a blast playing golf with my coworkers, a couple of whom I've gotten to know recently and have managed to make me not hate where I work so much. They've given me hope that I can be happy there. I also met another coworker from a different building. She was fantastic as well. Then I spent the evening resting my weary body and my blinding headache with my girlfriend, who happened to be sick so she was in the mood for resting, too! Brenna was with her grandparents for the evening, so I got to do something I virtually never do-go to bed early and sleep in late! I was refreshed for Saturday and had a good morning and afternoon. Then there was the wedding, followed by a great dinner with my girlfriend, brother and soon to be sis. Today (Sunday) was a very pleasant day. Did the usual run errand thing and ignore football (I'm a Browns fan, not sure why anymore) in lieu of yard work while Brenna napped.

While she was peacefully sleeping I went to work on reseeding the front yard and finishing up the steps on my deck. It was an absolutely perfect fall day. Nice breeze blowing. Cool weather. Leaves covering my yard calling me to rake them. I didn't quite notice it then, either. That feeling. I was doing what I wanted to do, but I was starting to go downhill. Oh well, I thought, just keep working. It will pass. So I finished up outside and was inside relaxing for a few minutes before Brenna woke up. I wanted to get out, though. I needed to get out of the house. I didn't want to be there. I started to sense what was going on. Those moments that were seared into my memory last fall, almost one year ago, were working their way back to the front of my mind. I've been here before. It happens, though much less often than it used to. I wasn't ready, though. Brenna was about to get up. I needed a distraction. Just for a while. Keep it together.

I heard her rustling around so I went upstairs and opened her door. I knew what to expect. I had told her before she went down for her nap that we would go to the park when she got up, so I knew that would be the first thing out of her mouth. The girl's mind is like a steel trap. Just like her mom. Sure enough I open the door and she pops up (from the floor, she's taken to napping under the window on the floor!) and says, "I wanna go swing!" I get her changed and off we go. It's a great evening to be outside, at the park. Just Brenna and I. Not many people around. Doesn't matter because I feel totally alone. I put Brenna on the swing and she wants me to push her higher and higher. She knows no fear. I think back to the first time Laura and I put Brenna on the swing. It was at this park. Brenna loved it. Now she loves it in a different way. She loves flying freely. She tires of it quickly and wants to go down the slide. So off we go. I can't get it out of my head. It's just getting worse. Thinking of how proud and amazed Laura would be of her little girl climbing every which way and flying down the tallest slide, falling on her butt, jumping up and running up to do it again. Keep it together. Just a little bit longer.

We leave the park and make our way home for a quick dinner. I don't want to be in here. It's almost becoming more than I can bear. I feel a mental break coming on. I feel her being gone. I feel so lonely. Brenna nibbles a bit and out we go again. We walk up the street for some ice cream. It's half a mile and I know Brenna will want me to carry her halfway there. It's gonna kill my back. I don't care. I want to carry her. We get there and Brenna gets a kiddie cone. She doesn't quite know what to do with it when she gets down to the cone. She's only had ice cream out of a cup! She offers it to me and I take a small bite. That's her cue to devour the rest of it, which she promptly does as we meander back to the house.

Getting home we relax for a few minutes, then it's off to bed for her. I read her a story (actually she "reads" for a while then I finish it up), give her a kiss, pull the covers over her and head downstairs. Still not time to face it. I have things to do. I have to push on. I want to work out. If I start down this path I will get nothing done. It's fine. I can deal with my emotions later. Start the laundry. Eat something. Work out. Distract.

So now here I am. The nice fall weather has brought me a reminder of that fateful night, which I will share now. Some of you have heard the story. Some have not. Many don't want to know it (which is why I am splitting it into 2 parts, so please don't read the second if you don't want to. It's not going to be easy and may change some things in your mind. You've been warned.) I'm putting it out there for my own sake. I hope it will help. I think it will...

Still Want Me to Not Worry What Everyone Else Thinks?

Continuing on the theme of my last post, something happened this week which ties in perfectly. This past week a very nice service and dedication was held for Laura at Christ Hospital. I don't know the exact details of it (if I am mistaken in the details hopefully someone will correct me), but I understand it was put together by some of the people in the social work department where Laura worked. It wasn't an "official" hospital thing, but a very nice dedication involving her coworkers/friends and family. A couple of speeches were read and a plaque was hung by her father, which will remain in the social work unit of Christ.

I found out about this event after it happened. The person who was the organizer is a good friend of mine. She and I have talked extensively both before and after Laura's death. In fact, she knows my internal struggles as well as, if not more than, anybody else. I can't imagine going through all this without her (and a few others). So she contacted me earlier this week to tell me about the event, how it went, etc. She was also struggling with how to handle telling me about it. Whether or not to invite me was a difficult decision for her and she knew I would understand as I know, more than anybody else, the difficulty in balancing the feelings of anger many feel towards me with my own desires and actions. She wanted it to be a very nice and comfortable event for everyone there, which was *almost* exclusively Laura's former coworkers. She knew that if I were in attendance there would be a great deal of distracting tension in the room coming from the people who harbor strong negative feelings toward me. I don't intend to get into a debate as to whether their feelings are justified, right, etc. The point is they exist and they exist for a reason, whether that reason is valid or not. Perception is reality. Anyway, as this was being explained to me I could hear the pain in her voice and I knew this was not an easy decision for her, to essentially exclude me from the event knowing it may not necessarily be fair. I understood completely. I really do. As I laid out previously, in some cases it is important to really take into account what other people think. Since this was an event for the Hospital, the people there should be thought of perhaps more than me, as this was their opportunity to pay respects free (in some sense) of the feelings elicited by the sight and thought of me. I support my friend's decision and I hope she is able to make peace with it. I harbor no ill will towards her for it. This is a very difficult situation in a number of ways, and sometimes there are no good answers, just less bad ones.

After speaking to her, and time wore on, I started feeling very down. The more I thought about what happened, in the greater context of things, the worse I got. I will say again I do understand the decision my friend made and I think she did the right thing in a very difficult situation. I also understand the feelings many others have towards me. Those feelings of anger. Of blame. Not of blame for what happened, but what happened the weeks leading up to Laura's tragic death. Those last few weeks of her life were spent in misery, which her coworkers got to witness on a daily basis until the day she never woke up. I have felt that anger leveled at me. I have seen the words spoken about me, the insinuations, accusations, and so on. I've been abandoned by many, and I understand that as well (in most cases). While those things bother me, they aren't what was necessarily making me down. No, what I felt like was I was being punished (again) for those last few weeks of Laura's life. I have felt so much guilt and torment over what happened and I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. I hope nobody ever has to know what it feels like to have a genuinely good person in their life, someone who they've spent nearly every day for five+ years with, have a child with, and to have some difficult times resulting in a lot of heartache, confusion, anger, sadness, etc. Then, seemingly in the middle of the worst times, the person dies. The last feelings that person had were primarily negative and caused by you. Imagine the worst fight you've ever hurt someone, stretch that over a couple of weeks, and imagine that person died in the middle of it. There's no way to take any of it back. Any growth and understanding after that is accompanied by feelings of guilt and pain that stem from not being able to share the "new" you with the person you want the most to see it.

It's no small effort to move past all of that guilt and awful feelings. There's nobody to say sorry to and have them tell you they forgive you. You simply have to forgive yourself. And that is hard to do when so many others don't let go of their anger towards you for what you did (or were perceived to do) to their friend. So when the time comes to pay tribute to Laura, to say good things and share great memories, I will be forever punished, as I will always, in some people's eyes, be the one who made the last weeks of Laura's short life a living hell. That's all they will remember of me. I will carry that burden forever, as these people will be a part of my life forever. They aren't bad people. Their feelings are understandable. My pain carries on.

Don't Worry What Everyone Else Thinks

Advice easily doled out for seemingly every issue. Is it possible to follow? Is it even good advice?

As with most things in life, it's just not that simple. There are very few black and white things in this world. Should you worry what "everyone" else thinks? Absolutely not, unless your livelihood somehow depends on it. For me, though, I do worry what *some* others think, depending on the situation. I believe it can be respectful and completely necessary to take others into consideration when viewing ones actions. Of course how much their feelings should weigh on your decisions, and whose feelings should effect you, those are the more difficult questions to answer. That is what I struggle with so much in my life.

Laura's death has caused and continues to cause countless ramifications in my life. Obviously. So much, though, goes unknown, unspoken or sits there like an elephant in the room, waiting to be acknowledged. It effects my every thought. Even something so simple as my choice of words to start this paragraph doesn't come easily. What happens if I start out with the phrase "my wife" instead of Laura? After all, those reading this will know who it is either way. But the words matter to the reader. "Laura" is a person. She belongs to everyone. My wife is my own, and that belongs to me. If you are suffering and grieving over her passing, would you resent my use of a possessive phrase? If you knew the situation between Laura and I at the time of her death, would you be angry with me for referring to her as my wife when it was a real possibility she wouldn't have been for long had her life not been cut drastically short? Should it matter to me what you think? Well, I suppose that depends on who you are. Did you accuse me, outwardly or inwardly, of killing her? Did you discuss these accusations behind my back, pretending you didn't have those thoughts when speaking to me? Did you feel bad for making the accusations once the truth came out? (I'm guessing not, as I did not receive any apologies). If the answers are "yes" to these questions, then no, what you have to say does not matter. I don't care what you take from these words. You will read into them what you want anyway, most likely finding anything to justify your unsupportable and hurtful thoughts. Your problem, not mine.

What if you are a friend of hers who has only kept me in your life as some kind of remembrance of Laura, or as a way of staying in touch with Brenna's life, or simply because you feel bad for me? Should I care what you think? Well, I do. I don't know what it's like to be in your position, and I doubt very much you will tell me when something really bothers you. I want to know, though. Will you resent me if I date someone? Will it hurt you to see a "relationship status" changed in my Facebook page (either way you probably won't see that)? Would you think "How could you?", or "It's so soon, how could he possibly do that?", or any of those types of thoughts? Would you tell me or ask me if that's what was on your mind? Would you reason it out in your mind, reaching an uncomfortable conclusion that it's not your place to judge, but the feelings remain? If you want to ask me, but don't, what's stopping you? Why are we so afraid to talk? If you do want to ask, is it for the right reasons (as in you actually care, not because you simply want to gossip)?

What if you are her parents? I absolutely care what you think and what you are feeling, but I certainly can't read your mind and there are times where my desire to move on and be happy will trump my fear of hurting you.

The point is I can only understand so much of what is going with others. If you don't tell me, then I can't possibly know everything. Just as you can't possibly scratch the surface of how I'm feeling or what I go through on a daily basis if you never talk to me about it. Perhaps it's easier than you think, perhaps it's more difficult. Maybe I yearn to talk about it. Maybe it's the last thing I want to speak of. How will you know unless you ask?

Here's what I do know. There is one person in my life who fits a very unique mold. She has been there through all of this. I say she is my friend and I truly mean that, but she knows what I mean when I say she is really Laura's friend. She knew almost everything that went on up until the Laura's last breath. She knew the ups and downs of our marriage. She'd seen it all and knew the good and bad sides of me. She had seen how happy I made Laura, and also how I had virtually destroyed her emotionally. This person made the choice to talk to me. To share her thoughts with me. To get her concerns, anger, and troubles out in the open. And she allowed me to share with her all that I was going through, and whatever you imagine I was going through probably doesn't even begin to describe it (outside of a couple of extremely close friends). Her and I are in a very good place with each other now because of the choices we/she made from the beginning. Saying things that many think should remain unspoken for whatever fear they have. Working through the gauntlet of emotions. For that I am extremely grateful. To no end, really. I needed it more than she could possibly know. You see, there are so many things I did wrong. Many, many things I did not see fit to right (or even really see there was a problem to begin with). A lot has come out of Laura's death, and not all of it has been bad. It's regretful that it took her death to push me in a good direction, but that's what happened and regret won't change that, nor will I feel bad for trying to be a better person, even if it is a day late. But I needed someone there to see these changes and see how hard I worked. I needed someone who was close to Laura to see it. Someone who knew her inside and out. I needed that person to tell me what they think, as I felt in a way it was like getting Laura's blessing. While I didn't need that to move past the regret (I probably would have one day), it surely went a long way to alleviating the massive burdens I and mental weights I carry with me so much of the time. I thank her for helping ease that weight.

This is just the beginning of so much that I want to share about the past few months of my life. A couple of you have been there and know what it's been like for me, but most have no idea. As I started to spell out in the beginning, I did not know if I even could share without being offensive to some, so I have been fairly guarded and private with my thoughts. I am putting this out there for inquiring minds. Mine is inquiring as well.