My Life After His Death

Yep, it’s been a long time since I felt compelled to pull this up and write.  But something happened yesterday that dragged up memories, both painful and good.  I got back on the Lenovo computer after neglecting it for over two years.  This means that I also opened files of pictures and letters that I haven’t thought of for as long.  I truly haven’t been able to look at the pictures, but I did open up a few letters I wrote to you.  After two years, I am reading them with an entirely new state of mind.  And I am embarrassed.  Embarrassed that I was so gullible and naive.  Embarrassed that I couldn’t see the obvious, even when I was the one writing and pointing them all out.  Embarrassed that I lacked the inner strength to run when every indicator was clearly in front of me. Embarrassed at what I put my family through.

I found the following letter to you, dated two years before you died.  I remember the time well.  I had left you after a terrifying evening of accusations and lies.  I asked for help from Ryan and Wendy, who had seen the signs and admitted that they had long feared for my safety.  They helped me leave you.  Immediately.  Of course, I went back to you several weeks later and you and I went to counselor number two.  I was hoping that Lewis would help me get away from you, you were expecting Lewis to convince me that I was a troubled soul who needed to be rescued. You were hoping that Lewis would get me to move to Florida with you.  I saw this and tried to write you a response.  Do you remember when I wrote this?

Dear Scott,

I wanted to write this out by hand, but I can type so much faster than I can write, which will hopefully, enable me to get my thoughts out.  This is soooo hard.  I never thought it would be easy, but I didn’t think it would be this hard.  Thought I could get lost in my work and not think about it.  So wrong.

Anyway, it’s Tuesday and we are supposed to meet tonight with Lewis.  I’m not ready to do that.  I need more time.  Please go to Lewis without me.  Right now, I am operating totally on emotions, and that’s hard for me.  You know I’m a logical, concrete, reasoning person.  When I operate solely on emotions, I make bad decisions.  I can’t afford this right now.

I must admit that you continued asking, “Do you just want to be done?” really rattled me.  You know me better than I know myself and I think you always knew that I was conflicted.  And I am conflicted.  When I am with you, I feel both protected and smothered. At first, your protection and attention was just what this wounded bird needed. You gave me a safe place to land.  You made it easy for me to stay in the nest…being joined at the hip was a welcome change from being isolated.

As the years progressed, I began to resent what I felt was you becoming overprotective.  Instead of encouraging and celebrating my confidence, I felt like you were threatened.  I felt like the circle closed in on me.  I couldn’t see my children, my parents, or even my friends without an argument and a reminder that I didn’t “do” the divorce right.  Yes, I hid many things from my children and family, but I did it because I truly believed at the time that it was the best thing for them.  We don’t always make the best decisions, but my intent was good.

  I saw the pain in their eyes when I said your name.  I felt the pain in their hearts when I couldn’t spend the holidays with them because I chose you.  You said, “The children won.”  I told you once that I would never compromise when it came to my children.  Yet, I did.  Over and over again.  I despise that part of me.  It’s time for me to rebuild my relationship with my children.  Failure to do so would impact my personal legacy and compromise the very foundation of my beliefs.  

Yet I love you.  And I miss you.  And I am scared of a life without you.   But I am also taking those first steps out of the nest (back to the wounded bird analogy!)  I’m not a WHOLE, COMPLETE person right now.  This is critical for me to move forward in our relationship, or in any relationship. I need time on my own.  There is no one “in the wings”  (another bird analogy…getting as bad as wheel analogies!)  Maybe it’s truly KIM in the wings? 

I can’t be the joined-at-the-hip person you want.  I never meant to deceive you with the kind of relationship I wanted.  I truly thought that the kind of relationship you described is what I wanted/needed.  I don’t think I can be that person and it’s not fair for me to ask you to wait until I figure that out. 

OK…I need to stop now for a while.  More will come as I work my way through this.  As I put your things in boxes, more of ME emerges.  That doesn’t mean that you are the cause or the blame…rather, it means that you are the one who taught me the importance of being myself.  Please support me in this growth, even if it comes at the expense of the future you envisioned.  I want you to look at KIM a year from now and smile when you see the person I have become.  I want to look at SCOTT a year from now and smile at the person you have become.  You are growing through this, too.  You are becoming stronger and more powerful.  You are an amazing person.  Never let anyone tell you otherwise. 

I can’t help but wonder what would have happened if you would have honored my request and let me go.  Would you still be alive?  Would you have stayed in Florida?  Shortly after this letter was written, you left and I moved to my townhouse.  As I reflect back on my state of mind, I remember thinking that you were never coming back and that I was going to finally be able to live my life in peace.  What made you turn around and come back?  What made you want to be with me again? Especially given the accusations you have made over the years?  Another letter I wrote was actually a list of those accusations.  I remember writing it because I thought I was losing my mind.  How can one person be this wrong all the time?  Read below in case you need to refresh your memory.  When I presented this to you, couldn’t you see how illogical you were?

10/31/15  Angry when he couldn’t enter code into Amazon.  Wanted me to pay attention to him and “help.”  Said I was a terrible multi-tasker because I was reading USA Today on my phone.  Escalated dialogue, ended up bringing up accusations of lying.  Wanted me to admit that I stared at Al’s crotch and said “Nice ass.” Wanted me to admit that I told his brother I wasn’t going to Florida.  Told him I wasn’t going to admit to something I didn’t do.  Escalated discussion.  Loud voice, intimidating stance (standing over me.)  Told him to take three steps back, repeated this three times.  Went to bed with Toby.  Scott slept on couch.

Strange Accusations related to his brother:  I was holding hands and playing footsie with his brother under the table at the Hollywood Complex.  I “look” at his brother.  I give him too long hugs.  Said his brother was involved in a three-way with his ex wife Deb.  Has a grainy photograph that he insists is proof.  (Never confronted his brother about any of this.)  Said brother is involved in drugs and has a hidden juvenile record.  Said his brother drugged him the last time he was at the farm.  Insists that he went to a doctor the next day for a blood test and the test came back positive.  Refuses to show me proof.  Didn’t mention this to his brother either.

Strange Accusations related to Kim/Greg:  Greg grabs my boobs, and I “do nothing.” I enjoy his attention.  Greg and I are having a fling on the side.  Greg showed up at church because he didn’t think Scott was going to be there. Greg’s comments on facebook are all related to his ongoing inappropriate crush on me. 

Strange Accusations related to Kim/Paul: Paul was serious when he said that I could come around sometime and not bring Scott. 

  Strange Accusations related to Jan/Al: Al has a thing about me.  We are having an affair. Al asked if Scott was going out of town for his new business adventure only to find out when he could come over to the house to see me.  I walked behind Al and stared at his ass.  Al made sexually suggestive gestures towards me.  We look at each other when we think Scott isn’t looking.

And then there was this document.  Remember that you had written me a letter.  It was odd and rambling and I didn’t even know where to start addressing it, so I literally broke it down line by line.  I wish I remembered how you responded.  Clearly, you didn’t respond the way I had hoped because nothing changed.  

Communication:  What you hear…What I mean…

Your Words:           My Response

I don’t talk right	I do get confused by your questioning strategies.  I use the phrase, “You talk in circles” often.  I’m not sure how to work around this. I think you jump to conclusions too early and then refuse to back off from your position.
I lie,	Yesterday, I did accuse you of lying.  Looking at the facts only reinforces this. Your appointment with Sandy was set for 2:00 – 2:30 on Friday on your calendar. You never mentioned to me that you had an appointment.  You didn’t ask me to go to the store with you.  You called me at 2:30 (the end of the appointment) and told me that you ran into Sandy at Target and that you might be stopping to see her if that was OK with me.  When I questioned the appointment, you said you had scheduled an appointment, but was going to cancel it. (Again, didn’t tell me you had an appointment.) You stated that it was a coincidence that you ran into her at Target at the exact same time you had an appointment with her.  This was only reinforced by the two other e-mails indicating that she was running late.
i don’t pack enough (house),	When this statement was made with Paul and Kim, I was referring to the understanding we had that I was responsible for packing the inside of the house, and you were responsible for packing the shed, your office, and your clothes.   This isn’t a “put down.”  This is a fact.  Sharing that with Paul and Kim wasn’t meant to slam you, it was a factual statement.  I don’t believe they took it as a slam to you. I do get frustrated when I am  walking around the house, putting things in boxes, moving boxes, etc. and you are sitting on the couch. I have not been good with expressing how I had hoped we would do this together.  I am afraid to ask you to help.
I don’t work enough,	I have never said you don’t work enough.  Do I think you could put more time into work?  I’m not sure.  The facts are that you don’t work a 40 hour week. You have told me many times that this is unusual for you and that you used to put in longer hours at work.  I don’t know enough about your business to know whether putting in longer hours would help you.  I do know that if I hadn’t made a house payment in almost a year, I would be searching for another way to make money.
Living off of her	I’m hoping you’re not living off of me.  I didn’t accuse you of that.  I stated, “Are you thinking that we are going to move to Florida and that I’m supposed to get a job so I can support the two of us while you find something to do?”  This does not mean that I think you are living off me right now.  It does refer to a fear that I have that you expect me to carry us while in Florida and doing retirement.  I brought you to my retirement meeting…you know exactly how much I’m going to get.  I know NOTHING about your contribution.  I have a right to be concerned.  I put my cards on the table.  You haven’t.
i don’t make enough money,	See above. I have no idea where your money is going.  I see you putting money in the bank, paying bills for your supplies, but I never see any money going into our “joint account.”  I thought this was supposed to be a partnership.  I have serious questions about your finances and you refuse to allow me any information.  You are a year behind on your mortgage payments yet I gave you $900.00 a month until August for my part of the rent. You have sold your motorcycle.  You sell other things…where did the money go?  I have taken over every joint expenditure except for T-mobile and your house payment. Something doesn’t add up.  Remember that I’m coming out of a relationship where I wasn’t told anything about our finances.  I told you I would not make that mistake again.  The fact that you withhold information about your finances makes me mistrust you.  Sorry, but that’s my experience in past relationships.  No information means something is wrong.  If you want me to stop asking questions about money, then open up your financial information.  Show me your credit reports, be honest.  Lying by deliberate omission is still lying. We are about to move into a house together.  You absolutely must share your finances with me.  This is non negotiable for me.
idea of florida is set up wrong	Yes.  Find a job first.  Then move down when financial stress will not play into what is already a difficult relationship.  Finances are the number one reasons couples argue.  Why set us up for failure?
i am paranoid,	Todd put something in your drink.  You had a blood test that proved inconclusive, but you didn’t tell me. Todd and I were doing something under the table at the Hollywood complex.  (By the way, you also are convinced that Todd and Deb were doing something.)  (Oh and, Mary was having an affair when she died, too.)  You accused me of meeting someone at the complex and making out with him while you were getting a drink.  You think that Greg and I must have something going because he showed up at the church, my parents stayed at the hotel near his work, I talked to him at the bar.  Someone messed with your brakes/tires.  When I was at home with my back, you questioned me numerous times about car tracks, videos, the length of time it would take for me to drive from one place to the next.  There are many other examples…you get the picture.
i am not selling my house right,	You are not selling your house at all.  There is no for sale sign out front.  There have been no visitors/realtors/etc.  You have no agreement set up with anyone.  There is NO evidence that you are selling the house.  You keep talking about one man wanting to buy the house, yet I don’t know his name, he hasn’t even visited the house.  You keep saying, “I’ll give him a call and set something up with him…”  You’ve been saying this for three months.  Nothing has happened.  It does not make any sense fiscally to put your eggs into one basket when you have nothing in print saying it will actually happen.
I don’t eat right now since she’s on a diet,	This is a fact.  Neither of us were eating right.  We had a diet that was way too high in fat and fried foods.  We both were probably drinking too much.  We are doing better.  I chose to go on a diet because I want to be healthy for us.  I’m tired of being incapacitated by my back.  I want to have fun again with you.  Losing weight is part of this.  I have told you repeatedly that you don’t look like you need to lose weight, but if it bothers you, as you say it does, simply drinking less and eating better would benefit you as well.
what I see is wrong ( todd her at bar, Ring,Divorce papers)	I’ve already addressed the Todd thing at the bar.  If you don’t believe me, then let’s get Todd here and deal with it in the open.  THERE IS NOTHING GOING ON BETWEEN YOUR BROTHER AND ME.  I am NOT interested in Todd.  I’ve already addressed the issue with the ring.  Countless times.  I was wrong.  I have already owned this one.  I put my children’s feelings before yours.  No need to keep throwing this in my face.  I should only have to admit my error and apologize once.  Regarding the divorce papers…not sure what you mean.  My divorce is between my ex and I.  When I was going through it three years ago, you were also dealing with your stuff from losing Mary.  We both needed to put closure on our past and needed to do that without bringing each other into it.  I listened to your suggestions about the divorce, but ultimately, the divorce was mine.  Our situation was unique.  Our dissolution was unique.  I have never hid the paperwork from you.  In fact, I told you exactly where it is.  Have at it.  Just remember that you weren’t a part of my marriage.  You only see the tip of the iceberg.  Let it go so I can move on.
I don’t see her way 100 percent of the time	Nope.  Nor should you.  Disagreeing should not be considered a sign of a bad relationship.  You and I are not going to see eye to eye on everything.  We are both first born children and we both think we are right.  We will always butt heads on things.  It’s the way we are made.  We have to work around this and we BOTH need to be humble and admit when we are wrong.
can’t post a picture right ty and myself and a sheriffs office member.	I never said you couldn’t post a picture of Ty.  I never even said you couldn’t post a picture of Mary.  I asked, “is that Mary in the picture on Serena?”  A question is not the same as saying, “you can’t.”  It’s called getting more information.  And I was not the only person who wondered if that was Mary…see the post.  I was totally within bounds by asking you.  Now, on the other hand, if I would have said, “Why did you put a picture of you and Mary on your facebook page?”  that would have been an accusation…
I am not active enough,	This is also a fact.  You and I aren’t active enough.  I love you and want you to be healthy.  There shouldn’t be anything wrong in telling you that you should be more active.  That’s a concern…not a criticism.
I don’t clean house the way she wants me to.	I have commented on house cleanliness.  So have you.  Isn’t that part of learning each other?  You tell me all the time if I forget to clean something (top of the refrigerator) or if I need to do a better job with something. (cleaning the shower more often.)  I listen.  I would hope you would do as well.
I don’t read like she thinks i should,	I have NEVER said I think you should read.

I’m on a plane again, this time to a place I know you won’t find me.  As I write this, I’m literally some place over the Pacific Ocean, 2,514 miles away from Sydney on my way to a “dream vacation” with Brent.  I know there is no way you would have ever allowed me to go on a trip like this with him, and as I look back at the notes I’ve written to you over the past one year and nine months, I can’t help but feel a sense of gratefulness that things worked out the way they did. I always told you that I would never let you get in the way of my relationship with my kids.  And you did.  Almost to the point of no return.  Fortunately, your choice made it easier to reverse some of the damage and because of that, I’m on this plane

Happy Valentine’s Day.  A facebook post came up from three years ago.  Remember the ACDC concert?  We had a great time and for once, I lingered at the “3 years ago” memory and didn’t delete it in anger. I’m hiding in my office today, trying to get away from the inevitable question, “How are you doing?”  

I’ve given that question a lot of thought.  I was at my kids’ old daycare yesterday.  I haven’t seen them since Anna’s wedding, so as usual, I was prepared for questions that were going to be asked, forced conversations, awkward silence…even after a year, people don’t know how to approach me.  Don’t know how to probe.  Don’t know how to really ask if I’m doing OK.

I saw Michelle in the hallway two days ago.  We went out to dinner with her and her ex-husband in Wayzata.  Gorgeous day.  We took the bike.  You tried to convince them to buy a motorcycle.  (Of course). I haven’t nurtured this relationship since then as I am no longer walking in the elementary world, but that has also meant that I haven’t had THE CONVERSATION with her.  

Of course, she asked, “How are you doing?”  What I heard from her in those four words was more like, “Seeing you reminded me of when you and Scott and Tom and I met in Wayzata for dinner.  I’m so sorry to hear about him and I feel bad that we haven’t connected since he passed away (cause no one likes to say the obvious “he killed himself”).  I’m asking if you are OK because that’s what friends do, but I really hope that you don’t truthfully answer it because I’m really not prepared to have that deep of a conversation with you.  It’s too uncomfortable for me.  So please just answer, “I’m doing fine.”  That will allow me to walk past you and avoid your unpleasant reality.”

And so just like that, I answered, “I’m doing great!” With an extra emphasis on the word, “great.” Just in case she didn’t believe it.  Truthfully, I didn’t want to talk about IT either. Truthfully, I didn’t want to answer the question honestly either.  Truthfully, I just wanted to avoid eye contact all together.

And so it’s that way with Valentine’s Day too.  Friends who are concerned for me.  Paul, who is annoyingly and painfully sweet in ways that you never were.  I should be able to just enjoy the day, the cards, the cute red hearts without fearing questions like, “How are you doing.”  Really, I just want the day to go by quickly so I can go back to bed and start one year, seven months, and five days. 

On the plane.  Back to the cold, the snow, the memories that I know will find me the second I land back in Minnesota.  You will be happy to know that Paul is mad at me and the thought of having an argument with him reminds me of nearly every time I took a trip without you.  You punished me relentlessly when I returned.  There were always accusations (ALWAYS untrue).  I was always tired, whether from flying or driving and didn’t want to deal with the ugly conversation I knew would be forced upon me when we were reunited.  I think you spent the entire time I was gone strategizing.  You couldn’t let me have a good time when you were left behind.

Maybe this is just how men are.  I was hoping Paul would be different, but maybe you infiltrated his mind.   Or maybe I do something that brings out this quality in the men that I let into my life.  It couldn’t be that somehow I’m at fault, is it?  Or maybe I am attracted to men that are so needy that they become dependent on me.  And that quality both intrigues and repels me…

And damn it…the Disturbed song just came on…

“Thought I was rid of you, thought it was over with, thought I was over it.  Thought I evicted you from my heart, kicked you out of my mind, so nothing left of you wouldn’t be left behind. But you still take up all the space, you just won’t go away.” 

“You stay in my head, like an uninvited guest, an uninvited guest.  You still haunt my heart, guess you haven’t left it yet, haven’t left it yet…like an uninvited guest”

“Still see you everywhere.  You’re still in every room.  Feel you with every move.  I can’t go on without erasing you from my heart.  Tired of feeling this pain. Seems you’re the only ghost I just can’t chase away. You still inhabit every thought.  I pray that you’d be off.”

“You stay in my head, like an uninvited guest, an uninvited guest, You still haunt my heart seems you haven’t left it yet, haven’t left it yet.”   

“I don’t want to feel you around, I just want you out, so please, go please…”

“You stay in my head, like an uninvited guest, an uninvited guest.  You still haunt my heart, guess you haven’t left it yet, haven’t left it yet.  You stay in my head, like an uninvited guest, You still haunt my heart, like an uninvited guest…”  

Uninvited guest.  Yes. That is you.

On a plane again.  On my way to Seattle.  There can be NO memories of you there!  I’ve never even been there.  Unfortunately, I know that is not a real barrier.  I still carry you with me wherever I go.  Probably even when I go to Australia.  Further proof of an afterlife.

So in thinking of an afterlife, I am wondering what you found after you died.  Was it instant quiet?  Nothingness?  Was your life totally over or as most people believe, did your soul leave your mangled body and go on to the next life, wherever souls go?  

Were you ushered into heaven and into the loving arms of Mary?  (Fantastical illusion to be sure, but one that survivors embrace.) Did you see your uncle again?  Were you and Ty and Cowboy reunited? 

Or did your soul morph into another living creature?  You talked so often about wanting to come back as an eagle.  Did I ever tell you about the annoying hawk that appeared after every time I ran after you died?  I used to yell at it to stop following me.  I think stalking would be a hard habit to break even after death.

Did your soul end up in some in-between purgatory?  Are you wandering around trying to make sense of your own demise? Are you able to think rationally?  Question your decision?  Feel regret?  If so, are you ever able to find peace?  I used to feel your presence physically.  (Somehow my lamp did turn on in the middle of the night for absolutely no scientific, rational reason…)  Whether it was only a metaphorical truth and not grounded in reality, I know something changed after we buried your ashes.  Your presence was different, definitely more ephemeral.  Or maybe I’m just imagining the change to make sense of emotions yet untapped.

And then there’s the unnerving thought that you are in hell.  You didn’t believe in a hell, but what if you found yourself there? Are you there because you killed yourself?  Or are you there because your sins outweighed your contributions?  Are you there because you weren’t “saved?”  I find myself clinging to my faith in part because I am terrified that my sins are going to result in the same eternal damnation and I don’t want to see you again.  And then there’s the fear that your afterlife will be my eternal damnation, my punishment, my payment for all my lies, pain I caused people I love, my sins…

It’s so difficult to comprehend your afterlife.  I want to know what happened the second your life left your body.  I think about it often.  I wonder at what point your consciousness ended.  Did you hear the gunshot?  Did you feel pain?  Did you know you were dying/dead?  The morbidity of my thoughts constantly interrupt my sleep, my work, my happiness.  And so I run away to Seattle.  If you’re looking over my shoulder, haunting my thoughts as I write this, or somehow transcendentally able to connect to this letter, please leave me alone for at least the next four days.  Please?  My mind and my emotions need a reprieve.  I want and need to breathe deeply.  I want to sleep without nightmares.  Please?

Today would have been your 57th birthday.  Happy Birthday wherever you are.  Truthfully, I forgot about it until this very moment.  I’m looking out the window at the strip in Las Vegas.  I can see the Bellagio, the Flamingo, the Mirage.  All places we walked past when we came here.  During the past three days, I’ve been spending a lot of time thinking about you and what we did when we came here.  I think about my first time at the MGM…I was awestruck at the size, the pageantry, the spectacle of Las Vegas.  You had been there before, of course, probably with Mary.  It was our first trip together.  Your first trip without Mary, probably. 

We spent your birthday at the MGM…at the Rainforest Cafe.  Remember?  We even ordered a chocolate cake dessert with sparklers on the top.  The dinner cost a fortune, and we tried to survive on minimal expenses for the rest of the trip, except when we went to the Phantom of the Opera together.  I think I paid for that.  The first of many such expenses on my tab.  I wasn’t resentful back then.

I had the same thought when I went on my 9.2 mile run Thursday morning.  I deliberately ran by our landmarks…wanting in some way to punish myself, prove myself, somehow both defy and embrace the memories.  I saw the cheap gift store where we bought you your rock revival knock off shirt.  You wore those so well and now, all those are probably worn by someone else who scored a bargain at the auction.  They paid fifty dollars for clothes I bought for you for hundreds…

I saw wedding chapels, and I remember that you quite honestly thought I was going to marry you when we came the last time.  (February, I think…Super Bowl weekend.). I saw the Peppermill Restaurant where the kitsch overwhelmed and amused us. I saw advertisements for Zumanity and remembered the erotic performance and our response to the older couples (certainly not us) who went as some kind of Vegas-inspired aphrodisiac for the aged.

I saw places where we took our pictures.  But I didn’t see you.  Not like in Nashville.  Your soul isn’t in Vegas.  Not even on the streets, by the water fountains, near the street performers, not anywhere.  It’s OK. I’m glad I had time away from your memories.  It’s bad enough that it’s your birthday today.  I think back to all the birthdays we spent together.  First at Toby Keith’s, then later in Las Vegas, with Ryan and Wendy, Jan and Al, when you drank so much.  It’s worth noting that I realized that your drunken side was truly scary.  I was glad Al and Jan stayed with us that night.  I wonder what would have happened had I been by myself.

The year before you died, we spent your birthday at a meat raffle.  I think you were disappointed that the bike group didn’t recognize your birthday in the way you hoped.   But you told me not to tell them.  You always claimed to dislike birthdays, but I think you secretly hoped those around you would override your stated disdain. You always liked an opportunity to be the center of attention.

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.  

It’s Christmas time.  Another season gone by.  It was better this year.  Unlike last year, I didn’t want to take the tree down on Christmas Day and erase all the memories of a Christmas without you. This year,  I actually enjoyed the tree, the lights, the true Christmas emotions.  As I write this, I am in Carney.  I thought it interesting that this morning, a Facebook reminder from three years ago came up and you were in it.  Remember when you and I were here three years ago? 

It was a difficult weekend.  Awkward for everyone.  You seemed oblivious to everyone’s discomfort with your presence.  You inserted yourself in a place you clearly didn’t belong.  I was miserable from the moment we pulled in the driveway, really from the minute you announced that you were going to come with me and I had to make the call to my parents that I wasn’t going to be alone. I had hoped that you would stay back and take care of Toby. But as usual, you didn’t trust me enough to let me go by myself. 

I don’t think I ever wanted time to fly quicker than when we were together in Carney.  I just wanted the hours and days to fly by so the entire uncomfortable experience would be over.  Was I wishing your life away, too?  I’m not sure, but in retrospect, I feel a little guilt that I didn’t savor the time together as perhaps I should have.

So I am here today with my daughter and her family.  I have Paul being the dutiful boyfriend, staying at home, watching Toby and texting me throughout the day.  Two things happened that again confirmed that your possessiveness was extreme.  First, I finally told Paul that Brent and I were going to Australia.  I prepared myself for an explosive response as I had come to expect from similar situations with you.  You would NOT have allowed me to go.  Brent would not have even bothered to ask me in the first place.  Paul said he was sad he couldn’t go.  Next sentence was to briefly mourn that we would be apart for a week.  Next sentence was to tell me to have a great time.  The second confirmation came when I told him I was going to Carney with my daughter.  Sad briefly.  Followed by sincere happiness that I had a good relationship with my daughter and that we could travel so easily together. 

This is how I always wanted you to respond.  I wanted you to value my happiness.  But then again, had you truly valued my happiness, you never would have killed yourself.

Oh Nashville…the intensity of your presence surprised me even though I thought I had hardened my heart in preparation.  The three years before you died were so horrible, I lost sight of the happy times, the smiles, the real reason we found each other.  Nashville brought all of those memories back. 

Do you ever think about Nashville?  I know you loved it.  Loved the music, the connection with the history of country music, the beauty of the hills.  You really fit there.  In many ways, I thought you fit there better than you ever fit in Florida.  I found myself searching for you as I walked everywhere in Nashville. I “saw” you the first time downtown in the district.  It was July 4th, hot, and we were wearing jeans.  I remember you wore that black muscle shirt that showed your buffalo skull tattoo from Sturgis the year before.  You were so hot, at one point, you wore your skull cap because you were afraid you were going to burn in the sun or melt in the heat.  One of the two.  

I caught the first glimpse of you sitting at the second table from the left as I walked into Tootsies.  We had a drink, probably whiskey, and watched a single guitar-strumming young man trying to find his place in music history.  Three years later,  I am seeing you here again. Sitting at that same table, superimposed against the table of the 25 year old bachelorette party goers.  You looked sad.  Sad that you weren’t here with me 3 years later.  Maybe you were regretting your decision?  I don’t know.  It bothered me to see you like that.

I saw you the second time at Dierk Bentley’s bar, even though we had never gone there.  You were sitting against the wall in a booth, watching the dancers.  Julie and I had a few drinks, scored a table, and met a nice couple.  He was a Navy Seal.  You would have thanked him for his service, bought him drinks, and ultimately had a bonding conversation about your mutual PTSD diagnosis.  I would have sat on the outside and cringed at your attempts to compare your PTSD diagnosis with his.  I would have been embarrassed when you called yourself a cop.

Do you remember how you would grab my hand and make me dance with you when there weren’t others on the dance floor?  I hated that, but this night, I wanted you so badly.  As I watched this Navy Seal pull his wife onto the dance floor, I couldn’t help but desperately wish that you were there to do the same with me.  It’s been so long since I danced.  Dancing was always something that I loved to do with you.  When you died, you took that with you.   All of a sudden, I wanted that joy back.  I wanted to be pulled into your arms, feel your strong shoulders around me, and sway to the music.  I miss your shoulders.  I miss the safety I found there.  

And this is what I was thinking when I was supposed to be enjoying the Nashville nightlife.  This is what I was thinking when I went on my run the next morning.  There isn’t a good place to run at the Gaylord even though I was presented with a nice little handout with a map.  As I did not want to play chicken with oncoming traffic, I mindlessly turned and ran down paths without any idea of where they might lead.  

Would you be surprised if every turn led me to another sighting of you?  I saw you on the stairs at the entry to the Opryland tour.  I saw you by the big guitar in front and even took a selfie in the same place I remembered you being.  When I looked at the picture, I was a little bit surprised not to see you in the background, waving.  I see you standing there, smiling, excited to go inside. When I looked at the picture I took during my run, I could see through the doors at the entryway, where we walked into the show.  I can feel you holding my hand as we found our seats.  I see you running to the front to get pictures of your country idols, including Minnie Pearl and Little Jimmy Dickens.  This is a memory I will always cherish.

Nashville is full of such memories.  I didn’t worry about you in Nashville. I didn’t see your anger in Nashville.  I didn’t think you would kill yourself when we were in Nashville.  I saw a man who was coming back, was healing, happy, forward thinking.  When I think about it and look at the dates, I believed you were in a good place. I believed that happiness was just around the corner for both of us.  I still had high hopes that the divorce that was close to be finalized wouldn’t erode the relationships I had with my kids, and that things would turn around and we would be able to get married, save the farm, and move to Florida after retirement.  

Didn’t turn out that way.  It’s one year, 3 months and almost exactly 25 days from the moment you put the gun against your head and pulled the trigger.  (3:30 is like a daily alarm for me…).  You aren’t sitting next to me.  You aren’t really there anymore.  The emptiness I feel is numbing.  

I am in Nashville.  Remember when we took the bike trip here?  I didn’t think the memories would be here waiting for me, but I looked out the window while in my Uber ride, and saw the LaQuinta where we stayed…that stupid swimming pool with the broken light / electrical hazard.  What are the chances I would glance out the window and just happen to see THAT motel?  Stupid question, that happens to me all the time.  Again, I think you are somewhere orchestrating this.

I am staying at the Gaylord, right by the Grand Ole Opry.  (Beautiful place that you would have loved, but we couldn’t afford at the time.) I see you everywhere. Nashville was your place and I can’t look at anything without it being somehow filtered through our memories.  We are going downtown tonight and I am not sure how I will handle that.  I went back and looked at the pictures we took at the Ryman, the circle…oh that circle!  You connected with that in a way that amazed me.  I almost want to stand on it again and see if I can somehow feel you.  What would you say to me if you could?  What would I feel?

I am trying to focus on the reason I am here.  The conference.  When I do that, I can kind of leave your memory behind…a little. The last time I worked with this organization and went to scout speakers, I was in Anaheim with you.  Surely you remember this?  This is where you insisted on coming out with me and then stalked me at the sessions.  For this reason, when I walk out of a session, there is part of me that ALWAYS looks for you.  Somehow, even though I can’t see you, I think you really ARE there.