Through out 15 years of marriage I talked my ex-husband out of taking his own life many times. The heart wrenching late night debates left me unable to work, properly care for my children and barely enough energy to survive. I came home after leaving in terror, to find him passed out on the couch, gun loaded, empty brandy bottle and a note. That time he passed out before subjecting his family to the brutality of suicide. I finally believed him when he threatened to kill me and I divorced him. This was a man I loved with all the passion you read about and see in the movies. We had a child together. I moved on with my life, he didn't. His anger and rage threatened my girls, and made me fearful for my saftey.
Then I received the phone call that ripped away my life. It was under my control until that moment. I had to tell his daughter whom he had refused to speak to or return her letters, that her father was dead. I will never forget her cry of pain, and her look of absolute agony. Since she is his next of kin, and a minor, every responsibility fell to me. His apartment where he took his life had to be cleaned and vacated. His body was not found for 20 days, so the odor was so putrid. A special company cleaned the wall of his remains, disposed of his bed and ripped up the carpet where his blood had collected. His clothes, his pictures, his life that was seperate from my own were staring me in the face. The uniform he looked so handsome in had to be taken out. The shoes he wore, the couch he sat on. I had to rely on friends to help me with this ugly task.
Since I was the ex-wife, my loss is never reconized by his family who snubbed the girls and I at the funeral, and made me feel as if this was my fault. Yet, the coroners report did not say that I was in the room, and my finger wasn't on the trigger. To date at 40 years old I have never experienced such a brutal and emotionaly devestating experience. I have to work, go on with my life. He finally did it. It feels as if he did it to me, that he finally got even. He has once more taken some control of my life. The unbearable sadness of the lost potential of a man, a husband and a father tears at my heart. I feel as though I need to shout, I loved him with all of my heart for 15 years, I couldn't do anymore! I had to survive, I would have tried to talk him out of it one more time, if only he had called. I wanted to be his friend, go to dinner, or a movie. But his bitterness, anger and finally hatred of me got in the way. He never got it- he was loved, he was worthy. Even as I write this the tears are streaming down my face. The loss overwhelms me . The loss of a remarkable man. The man that spent all his energy trying to look good on the outside, to be right and always be in control. He won't be at our daughter's high school graduation. He won't be at her wedding or the birth of her children. But, at least least he isn't in pain any more, and his demons can no longer torture him. Now with the grace of God we will take our memories and our grief and continue our journey through life. I will never get back the innocence his suicide took from me, nor will I ever escape the memory of the grief his death created.
My ex-husband was in Corrections. I would appreciate hearing from anyone who lost an ex-husband, law enofrcement or not.