Third in a series of blogs written by Wendi, whose veteran husband took his own life.
To my soulmate,
It has now been 2 years today that you were found. I barely remember calling my parents who are 8 hours away, and I guess I called your parents who were clear on the other side of the country. I called your boss, and I can’t remember who else. I can remember that your wonderful boss, paid to fly your parents home. I done remember who picked them up, all I can remember is laying in bed crying, holding your pillow, your clothes, anything that smelled like you. I can remember my phone going crazy but I didn’t want to talk to anyone unless it was my family so I gave my phone to your brother. I could not tell you who called, I can’t remember. I think I was in shock.
I know your parents made me get out of bed, shower and took me to the doctor, he put me on some meds for depression and anxiety. Thank the good Lord for your parents, they took on the role of getting things in order, and making arrangements as I was in no shape. I remember we had a 14:00 appointment with the owner of the funeral home. I did not like him at all. Every time someone walked in the door, he would get up and go talk to them, even if it was the damn mail man, after the 3rd time, lets just say I lost it. Your dad had to drag me out of the funeral home. Your mom told the owner we would be back tomorrow but, we wanted to meet with someone else, not him.
I remember bits and pieces of the family liaison and the chaplain showing up, all I can really remember is them saying that no one in the house hold was his beneficiary. Turns out they lost 6 years worth of his records, but that is another story, for a later date. I barely remember going to the funeral home to see you, it was the first time your parents had seen you, thank the good Lord you looked more presentable but still not you. We set the funeral the followingSaturday so my family could get here. I barely remember anything. I can remember the day of your funeral, my girls coming over, getting me dressed doing my hair and my make up.
Next thing I know we are at the church, we go in you do not look like your self at all, I tried to distract my self with the flowers, I can remember my kids holding me up at one point. Your hands were still frozen into “that position” it was all I could see, the family liaison brought a cap to cover your head, thank you Lord, I don’t remember much of the funeral, I could not tell you who was there and who wasn’t other than our families. I can remember my kids wanting me to go stay with them at the hotel, but I wanted to sleep in “our” bed while it still smelled like you. I don’t think they understood and I hope they don’t have too for a long long time.
Needless to say, I now have a list of mental illnesses my self as long as my arm including PTSD. I’ve had to move, as I could not afford our old place, I’ve emptied my 401K to pay off bills, and to see my doctors and get my meds since I now have no insurance, I have not seen or heard from your girls in 2 years, I’ve lost my sanity, my security, I’m constant wondering if today is the day I become homeless, I’m selling what is left of the furniture just to try and get by. My credit cards are maxed. My credit rating is shot. I’m now estranged from your family as I am a trigger for them. I am estranged from my kids as I chose to stay here where we made “our” home rather than move back to my frozen tundra of a state. I now have no support here as all our friends blame me for your death. I have no one except my dogs. My days consist of lying in bed with the dogs watching Netflix, crying and being so damn mad I want to break every dish i own. But through it all, I still love you with all my heart, mind and soul.
Until we meet again,
Read the previous post, “To my darling husband”