I’m a wreck. I tried, I really did. I even made it half a day before crying. But, When I looked at the clock and saw it was the exact time I got the call, I completely lost it.
I’ve been thinking a lot about his dad. I haven’t talked to him in 9 years. Last time I tried to call, his wife hung up on me. We live on opposite corners of the country, and she’s still jealous. We got divorced in 1973, they married in '74 or '75. They moved to Florida, I moved to Washington in '77, but still she thinks… fuck, I have no idea what she thinks, but she won’t let me talk to Michael’s dad. For all I know, he’s dead. He’s 66 now.
My husband had to work today, but he’s called several times. He hates leaving me alone on this day, but, duty called.
I know I’m rambling, and no one wants to listen to this stuff. I think I’ll go take a nap.
I am so sorry, picu. I have to say I think it’s horrible that you cannot speak to your son’s father, especially about this. That woman is a bitch for that reason alone; I don’t care if in every other respect she’s a fantastic person.
Is there anyone you can call or have come over? We’re here for you, but that’s not quite the same. My best to you.
I’m not sure why you’re thinking about his dad–other than, of course, the fact that he’s his dad–but it sounds like your hubby is here for you. It would be nice if your son’s dad were to get in touch with you, but maybe it’s best to think of it this way: go where the love is, not where it’s supposed to be.
My little cat died a year ago and I still get effing hysterical just thinking about it, so my mind can’t even begin to grasp your sadness. I’m so so sorry!
If it would help to yak about it here, it’s Sunday morning here in Tokyo, and I’m just farting around.
Michael was 33 when he decided to leave. Here is what he looked like at age 11. This is just after our wedding. He told my husband that he no longer needed to worry about me. Maybe getting married was the trigger, I’ll never know. It was 6 months after our wedding.
Hell, I’m rambling again.
Thank you all. Believe me, it does help. I’m not very outgoing, even less since Michael, so I don’t really have any IRL friends. Well, one, but she lives far away, and isn’t very sympathetic, because it was suicide. She calls him a coward, and that hurts me.
The IRL friend is ignorant. In The Noonday Demon, the author says that asking a depressed, suicidal person to promise to not commit suicide is like asking an epileptic to promise to not have any more seizures.
He was anything but a coward, to my way of thinking.
I know. My birthday was last Thursday, the 24th. So, that year, He didn’t call on my birthday, so I called him. He told me he was busy, couldn’t talk. He said he’d call that evening, but he didn’t. I think he was planning then. I think he was afraid I’d guess and ask him to stop. That happened once before.
He fought his inner demons for as long as he could.
He and his wife had a suicide pact. She survived. I took care of her for a year after she got out of the hospital. We talked many times about that day. She didn’t remember much. But the one thing she did remember was that day was really no different than any other. It was just one too many days in their lives.
Wow. So your birthday is painful too then. He might have been planning it, or, as you note below, maybe he didn’t plan anything until the day of. But no doubt he was in a rough place.
Have you ever spoken to a therapist about this–and I’m not suggesting you do so, I’m just wondering. If it’s too personal a question, please ignore, ok?
You will get through this day and it will be okay again–until his birthday comes, and it isn’t okay. But then it will be, and so on and so on. I am so sorry, picunurse.
I have never forgotten Michael’s story, and I think of you and Michael every now and then, ever since I first read one of your posts about it. Please know that you are in my thoughts on this anniversary. {{{picunurse}}}
