On my way to Vegas without you.  Not the first time I’ve been there without you.  That would be my trip with Gwen and Nita.  Yes, I lied.  Yes, I truly was on a GIRLS TRIP.  You made it quite clear that this was not allowed and I went to great lengths to deceive you.  

I’m so sorry. There. I said it. I hated lying to you. In a healthy relationship, there would be no lies.  In a healthy relationship, you would have encouraged and supported me when I wanted to do things with friends.  In a healthy relationship. you wouldn’t have felt threatened by my friends.  In a healthy relationship, I may not have even wanted to go with my friends because I wouldn’t have wanted to be away from you. 

We stayed at the Bellagio.  I wanted so much to share this with you.  We saw a breathtaking Cirque du Soeli show.  We went out to nightclubs, ate fantastic food, shopped, and went skydiving over the Grand Canyon.  I wanted so much to share these experiences with you.  Instead I hid the pictures, hid the skydiving T-shirt, the video, and the memories.  If I had told you the truth, you would have accused me of things I didn’t do.  You would have imagined parties, orgies, multiple sins that I am not even capable of committing.  I’m truly NOT the person you imagine I am.  

My headphones are on as I write this from 10,862 meters in the air, traveling at 700 km/h.  Are you controlling the shuffle on my phone?  Why are these songs coming on?  Did you pick Shinedown’s “45” and “Monsters” for a reason?  You might be able to cosmically influence the shuffle, but I still can hit the “next” button.  And so I pass on “Gone Away” too.

I am drawn back to establishing expectations for this trip.  I am hoping not to see you on the streets of Vegas as was my experience in Nashville.  I want to look at the dancing fountains and not remember you holding me, watching my face as I experienced it for the first time.  Instead, I want to think instead about Nita and remember the laughter Gwen and I shared when the group of Indian men showed their overt appreciation for her ethnic beauty.  I want a clean slate.

I want to create my own memories.  Why do I see you everywhere?  Why can’t you let me have my own untainted experiences?  Why is every thought still filtered through you?  

Tomorrow is your birthday.  Remember your first birthday together?  We went to Toby Keith’s.  I gave you my uncle’s carved angel as a symbolic gesture of strength and support.  I don’t think you really understood this.  You were so sad that night.  You told me you didn’t expect to be there.  This was really only about three months after Mary died.  When I look back at where I was three months after you died, I better understand your state of mind.  

It wasn’t long after that when you had your first major breakdown and suicide threat.  I will never forget that night.  Never forget the phone call where you sobbed and said you were holding the gun, sitting on the floor of your house. I was begging you to get help. Begging you to call the suicide hotline, call Linda, call someone who could get to you and be there. You refused. Instead, I stayed on the line, sobbing with you. This was the first time you told me not to call the police or you’d take them out too. I hung up and left a message with Linda, called the suicide hotline myself, tried to figure out how to keep you alive.  Hours later, when you finally convinced me to hang up, I did so. I did not expect to talk to you the next morning.

I remember calling you when I woke up to go to the gym.  (Still not sure how I managed to do that, perhaps it was an opportunity to get out of the house and talk without alerting my husband…). You didn’t answer the phone.  I worked out for an hour and tried again.  Still no response.  Not even a text.  I took a shower and went to the car to try again.  It was almost 8:00 in the morning.  You finally responded with a text that didn’t even reference the previous night’s horror.  

Linda returned my phone call shortly after that and delivered a message that I clung to in the hours/days/months/years since you killed yourself.  She told me that you were an adult and that if you wanted to kill yourself, it would be your decision.  And that there wasn’t anything anyone else could do.  Just don’t physically get in the way. People end up dead that way.

Anyway, I thought I was keeping you alive.  Months later, you revealed more details about that day.  You even showed me where you sat on the floor, and then later, where you sat in the shed, next to Ty, until you decided you didn’t want him to witness your self-imposed death.  I hugged you, trying to make sense of my influence and responsibility in keeping you alive for the rest of your life.  I remember thinking that your suicidal ideations were always going to be a part of our life together.  I also remember somehow knowing that it would eventually win.

But you bought the boots!  It was about six months after Mary died when we went to Fleet Farm and you bought an expensive pair of work boots.  I saw that as a clear sign that you had chosen life, at least for a while.  You went back on the road.  You started to show interest in getting out and seeing friends.  You wanted me in your life.  

Yes, you were on an upward trajectory.  Healthy times followed with bike trips out west, concerts, dinners, dancing, horse riding, sitting by the fires…

Healthy times for you.

Difficult times for me.