We'd Be Better Off Without You (Part one)

I know what you were thinking......

Everything will be OK without you.  

You said it a million times; sometimes more than twice a day. Some days you just told me with no expression  on your face. Other times, you yelled it at me when something didn't go the way you expected it to. Other times it came out, striking me with each spit covered word as they left  your mouth. You used to tell me all the time that I would be fine. The boys....well, they would be so much better off without a dad that didn't give a shit. We had friends who would help, family, I'd have the cars, the house, all your things whether it be old or new and we wouldn't have to worry."You'd be well taken care of and you wouldn't have to put up with my shit anymore. You could live a normal life. Sell all my shit and take off for a long trip. You don't understand. You will be so much better off without me here on this Earth. You all would be so much happier if I wasn't around".

Sometimes I wonder if you really and truly believed that....

Or if it was just something you told yourself to justify the way you were thinking?

 How I wish I could tell you how much better off we are without you here...

But, I can't.

The night you walked away with a gun in your hand was one of the longest nights I can ever remember experiencing in my entire life. I remember being on the phone with the 911 emergency operator and speaking very softly to you from the top of the stairs. I remember trying to cover the bullet holes you shot into the wall with your coat and how my hands shook bad enough that I couldn't grasp the sleeves enough to even move them. I remember never once, leaving your eyes as I whispered "You are home. We will get through this" as I was at the same time trying so desperately to let emergency personnel know you were OK and that we didn't really need them there. I just remember the last time I saw your face which was distorted and at the same time, absolutely crushed at the moment you realized what you had done. I remember staring down at you, my heart breaking as I took in the tears that were flowing. I've seen you break down so many times before but, this....this was so different. You told me you were OK, that we were OK and the last words out of your mouth was "I am so so sorry, Mommy". I looked back up the stairwell to calm the dog and looked back and you were gone.

The police called on the phone. I remember them questioning me, wondering if you were holding us hostage with a gun or were we being held captive? Were you pointing a gun at us? Were you in the house? I replied yes,  you had gone to put the gun up as promised and that you seemed like you were back from whatever dark place you were in. They made me go look for you down in the basement and how my heart shuddered at the thought not just from facing you again but, you had made it so clear that the garage was off limits to us all. I opened up the door and saw the basement door was unlocked and slightly open. You were no where to be found. I remember feeling panicked, wondering where the hell you had gone and the police on the phone didn't believe me. 

They asked me outright if I was lying to them. That it was a crime to harbor or shelter you which I couldn't understand because you weren't some criminal. I remember their tone being so very nasty to me and no matter what I said, they just wouldn't believe me at all. I was then told to gather up our boys and walk outside with our hands above our heads. It was bitterly cold that night and I had no coat on and only slippers. Your boys, just in pajamas with bare feet. I did as I was told but, the rage I had building inside scared me more because we were being treated this way. We stood forever being watched by the police while they searched our home. They went through everything. They tore up our house while we sat outside and watched. They brought in police dogs and made me get something that smelled like you. I remember I kept asking if I could please put my children in the car? We were out there for a while watching as many trampled in and out of our home, tracking in mud and cow manure all over our carpet and floors. I could remember the smell of fear; acrid, and burnt at the same time. It seemed it painted the cold Winter wind that blew through that night.

It seemed like hours had passed and we were so bitterly cold. A police officer was yelling at me asking questions about you. You were deemed right then and there as a "deranged combat vet on the loose". I remember standing tall and telling that man everything I could quickly get in pertaining to your wounds and that something was really wrong with you. When I told him to please let me go look and that you had PTSD and TBI, he said "So?". They didn't care about you. They didn't care about us.

I can't remember much more after that. I can remember that my world shattered, my heart had finally fallen to pieces as I couldn't understand how this man was once your friend. How I had sent many pots of chili, loaves of pumpkin bread and more to feed them when you were working. How if anyone, he could understand what it was like and I began trying to convince him as well as plead for your safety. I remember an older gentleman officer pulling me aside and telling me he would back our car down to the end of the road and he would let us get inside and turn the heat on. I remember crying to him and asking him "please, please that man doesn't care. They won't give him a chance. They will just shoot him". It turned out he was a Vietnam Veteran and he said "we'll do everything we can for him and I know....trust me honey, I do know. I am going to try and get to him first". He was the only one nice to us that evening.
The cops that were there kept looking at us like we were the worst walks of life he had ever seen. It was almost like we could have had a crack house, with sex slaves chained to the wall; running a sweat shop in the basement and they still would not have looked at us with the same disdain. 

I still to this day do not understand.  

As time ticked by, more and more cops showed up. I kept thinking Wow, this is the most policemen I have ever seen in one place in this small town. It was you, they didn't need all these people. They knew you. I desperately scanned the men and mentally checked off the names as I found their faces. I remember being called out of my car and police staying with the kids. I was asked questions about your stability, had you wished to kill anyone, were you a threat to any person in particular. I couldn't believe they would ask me this especially from the ones who knew you. The ones you used to work with, the ones you helped move or the ones you showed up at their family's funerals for in support. I heard a man say at the front of your truck, "if you see him, shoot on site". I remember feeling very weak and that my body just stopped working and it seemed like time just stopped. I remember thinking I suddenly couldn't breathe. I could hear them talking softly to each other and how the words "crazy", "asshole", "fucking war vets are goddamn dangerous" and how those words stung and stabbed every time they made it to my ears. My view on the world changed so drastically that night.
For so many years, I always thought if I lost you....it would be in a fire, bravely rescuing someone and ensuring their safety. It would be in the line of duty when you were on the police force gunned down by a bad guy, and when you went to war......well, I think I felt way before you did you wouldn't be coming back. In 2013, someone hit you head on and took away all the progress you had made. All that hard work...gone. It seems like you just really never got a chance once you came home. I remember desperately trying to stop the bleeding from your head, seeing where your skull had been crushed inward, blood everywhere on my hands and when they flew you by Life Flight, I didn't know then if you would be ok or if my last words to you were enough to show you I loved you. Yes, those scenarios often lurked in the back of a worried wife's mind but, this? 

This.....I couldn't lose you like this. It didn't make sense. 

Minutes turned to hours; they wouldn't tell me anything. We weren't allowed back in our home until early that next morning. They called the home phone every five minutes. They had the SWAT team in places around our neighbors homes, cars alongside the road, and police officers with K-9s. Some weren't even with our local department and I never could figure out why they would come from different cities. I was drawn to the backdoor and there I sat with your service dog. Just positive that you would be walking in at any minute and already searching the memory rolodex and contacts in preparation of your defense. They would call every few minutes on the phone asking me over and over again if you were in our home, if I was hiding you and how I could go to jail for harboring a criminal and how it would  be awful for my boys to see both parents go to jail. They threatened, they tried to see if I wasn't telling the truth by yelling at me to just tell them where you were. I didn't understand that and I kept yelling at them you weren't some common criminal, they knew you and they know you wouldn't hurt anyone. How would I know where you were if I was begging to keep searching? If I opened the door to look out or to let the dogs go outside to use the bathroom, they would instantly call and wonder if I had talked to you, did I know where you were and on it went. It seemed whenever they would call me, there was another call following shortly after asking me who I was talking to on the phone. I couldn't get it through their heads that there were two officers calling me back to back asking who I was talking to. 

Our home looked like a bomb went off. Toy boxes emptied, closets torn up, beds flipped and more. The boys and I spent the time frantically trying to pick things up, put things back in place and clean up the messes. We were familiar with mass cleanups and of hiding. We were absolutely terrified of what was going on. I knew at any minute they would find you and I was ready to go and be there at the jail when you arrived. I wasn't allowed to use either cell or home phone as I was told they were monitoring me and I would go to jail. All I could worry about is you were missing your medications, you didn't have a heavy coat to be out all night in and you never ate your supper. Seems so stupid to admit that I was thinking those things but, I guess it was a way for my mind not to completely shut down. 

A sheriff's deputy had come to the door and my body just went absolutely weak and still. I still remember how my heart was going to come through my chest and explode all over our front porch. He had a file in his hand that was pretty thick as he explained they had a file on you and you were "undependable and dangerous". I kept arguing and shaking my head profusely although he just remained silent and kept lifting that folder as if to say "Lady, I got this file to prove you wrong". He explained to me that they had been having issues with you for months prior to this. How you had been found many many times sitting in your truck, "zoned out" and unresponsive, in a church parking lot facing a cemetery which was less than 3/4 mile from our home. He explained that they were constantly making you leave, telling you that you needed help and I just couldn't believe what he was saying. All I could think to respond was "He is severely afraid of cemeteries. There is no way in hell he would ever do that. He was deathly afraid of being buried, afraid of boxes in the ground and he just wouldn't be there.". But, it was all true. He showed me the reports. How in the world did I miss this? Why would you be in the one place that terrified you the most? Most of all? If this had been happening for months, why had no one come and talked to me about it? I don't know what I would have done but, dammit I would have done what it took to care for you.I remember feeling crushed that you lied to me about tinkering with a friend, and how you must have felt to go to that place. How alone you must have felt and scared....I couldn't understand how we had been through so much shit together and yet, you had once again lied. Why you felt you couldn't tell me you were blacking out so much? Why couldn't you have just talked to me?

I remember your service animal staring out through the back door and there he stayed the whole night and morning with me, waiting for you to come in. He whined incessantly, howled as loud as I can remember hearing it from him and I don't know who was shaking more; me or the dog. I think looking back now, he knew where you were.  I often wonder if his heart broke that night too. At two in the morning, for some strange reason....I felt an empty ache in my heart and my soul just shattered. We sat in fear and watched as armed men in black set up in the neighbors yard with guns pointed towards the back of our home looking out over our neighbors pastures. I kept thinking "Do they really need to set up so many officers for one man? Do they have to do that in my neighbors' yards?" Someone had called again and asked me for the millionth time had I heard from you and I screamed "No, goddammit! If I did, I would tell you. Please just hurry!!!" He replied that they could see you sitting in the pasture under a tree. My heart just stood still as I thought you were ok, everything was going to be ok. I began collecting my purse, looking for documents on a USB drive to take with me and my mind was going in a million circles. The hours ticked by it seemed and I remember how silent everything seemed; the kind of silence that drives you insane. 

I don't remember what time it was when the knock came on the front door. I remember opening it up and finding your buddy, also a recently returned combat Veteran, standing there with his hat in his hands. I know that I looked at him and looked around to see so many more standing on that small front stoop with their heads slightly bowed and hats in their hands. I said "Oh thank God, you found him!" and when my eyes darted back and forth among the faces, your buddy looked at me and said "Honey, he's gone". It didn't register at that second, the tears that were steadily falling down his face, or the way his hands gripped his hat so hard it was shaking. I remember telling him to give me just one second and I only needed to grab my purse and your meds and I would be on the way to the station. He just kept standing there, never moving and I will never forget how he looked at me and said "Honey, he's gone" and how I argued with him that you would be home anytime now and that everything was going to be ok. That you would be so pissed off at the damages done to our home. He just stood there in front of all those people shaking his head softly and saying "Honey, I am so sorry. He's not coming back. He's gone home honey. He's not in pain anymore. God, I am so sorry." I don't know who hurt the most at that moment, Him or Me.

I remember falling on the stairs. I heard a guttural scream that I still don't remember coming from my mouth. They had found your body sitting up against an old tree, in the pasture behind our home; gun still in  your hand, and that you had been there a while. I remember them telling me that the coroner was on his way but, the cause of death was your taking your life with a gun to the temple. I can remember thinking "But, he promised! He promised me he was putting his gun away in the safe and that we would be ok!" I wanted to go to you. I begged to just take me to you, I didn't care what the situation was and they wouldn't let me.

I wanted to run to you. 
I needed to see you. 
I needed.....you to come home. 
It was the one and only thing I ever asked from you. 
Not money, not a roof over my head, not even the ice-cream sundaes that you sometimes brought to me just because....
I just needed you to come home. 

I was so angry. I was in shock. I still have this numbness and often, my heart begins to pound like it did that night and I break down into tears remembering. I remember sitting in your chair, curled up with your blanket and looking out at the window. Wondering if you were finally at peace.....were you ok? Were you finally out of pain and misery? Was this really what you wanted? It was New Year's Eve and all I could think was how you would laugh in the past when I would say "whatever you are doing at the stroke of midnight, is what you will be doing that year". I always thought going to bed before the ball dropped in NYC would mean that we would forever be lazy that year as that was our norm but, all I could think was "we were being held at gunpoint and somewhere between 12-3, you were alone and looking at that gun."

I can tell you this......

We weren't sighing a breath of relief when they came to my door to tell me they found you. 
There were three of us there that night with you and all I could think about was your best friend.
Was she ok? Would she be ok? Where was she? Would she forgive us?

There wasn't a parade or dancing around because you weren't coming back through the door.

There were no high fives or joyous shouts in celebration. 

We didn't laugh, smile or thank the good Lord above that you were dead. 

You said we would be happier. 

You said we would be so much better off without you....

You lied. 

Because what we thought was a nightmare that night? 

That was a lie too because what we didn't know then

was the nightmare was just beginning. 

 But, we were so much better off without you........  

     

I wonder.....

Dear Husband,
I remember the OD green bags sitting in the corner you had packed long before deployment orders ever came in to the picture. I never told you that walking past those bags on a daily basis gave me the cold chills up and down my spine. How I hated to hear you calling and asking the higher ups to just let you go. Lying in our bed at night, I would stare at those bags and pray that you never got the call. After hearing the news on tv which you had on constantly, I prayed that Uncle Sam would never need you. Selfishly, I wanted anyone and everyone to go but, you. In my heart though, I knew you would be going. 
I remember that sinking feeling as if the floors opened up to swallow us both when you sat me down to tell me that you had the orders to go to Iraq. I couldn't breathe as you looked across from me and said "I got the orders to go, honey. Please. Please be happy for me. I need you to support me and understand how important this is to me". I remember how bright your eyes were, how excited and terrified you were at the same time and how my hands shook as you held them. I knew then.....you were destined to go there and fight. I recall that moment as if it is suspended in time, the quiet way you said "Honey, I have got to do this. They need me". I knew then you would never come back home. I don't think you knew but, I was angry; angry because your family needed you and I needed you the most. At the same time, I don't recall ever being so proud of one person in my entire life as I did the day you left. You told me then, that if you didn't make it back we would be better off without you. I remember telling you that would be the biggest lie ever to leave your lips because no, we were everything together.
Days ran together; the hours dragging by as if some unseen hand was trying to pull back the second hand to keep the time slow. I remember watching the news all day and night trying to piece together where you might be and wondering if I would "know" if something bad happened to you. There were days where I never left the house; so scared I would miss a phone call from you. I remember the way unmarked black cars left me with buckling knees and making me unable to breathe, just sure that it was the military coming to tell me you were gone. I remember on the bad days where the news reported so many deaths, placing mirrors outside of our home to be sure I could see that ominous black car should they come down the road in front of our home. While you said I would never understand what you went through, I did understand that cold hand of dread, fear and the what if's; just on a different level.

I was in the city this week and saw the black car with two military members in dress uniforms pull up along side of me. To this day, I still feel that fear and my knees still go weak. 

I remember how you rarely got to call home but, that you always tried to find a phone that was available. Most of the time, you lied to me and told me not to worry because you were safe. You couldn't tell me where you were or what you were doing and I tried so hard to believe you when the incoming sirens went off and loud explosive sounds happened. I remember how we would always make the guys who monitored our phone calls chuckle when we said something funny or how they would suddenly black out the phones if we said something that was too much. I learned quickly not to ask about something news related that happened because whoever was listening, would always hang up the phone. I still shake my head at the times I recall where you made stories up just to make me think it was just another day on the job. You would always lighten things up by telling me about the horrible MREs, "Mullet boy" who was your sign that your unit was safe and how you bought a $5.00, handheld camera filmed movie off a Hadji that never played or how my handmade candle made six of you argue over who was going to light it first just because it reminded all of you of home. I knew though...what you weren't telling me.

Then there was that day about six months in, when you called home in the middle of the night. Your voice was so far away as if you were talking through a child made tin can phone with string. Your voice shook as you told me "Baby, I'm not going to make it home. I'm going to die here". No hello, no emotion; there was just hollowness in your voice. Something was terribly wrong. It wasn't you at all and I swear I felt that you somehow died inside that day. 

I remember that you had met another soldier with the British Army who had the luxury item of a cell phone. You called home desperate to hear my voice and to tell me that you had just picked up body parts and had to wash out a Humvee that had blood splatters everywhere. I remember how your voice trembled when you described seeing that blood being hosed out onto the ground; wondering if there could have been anything that you could have done differently. I still have nightmares to this day about that one picture you painted over a million mile away telephone call. I remember feeling so helpless. No matter what I said, there wasn't any words that I could say to take the pain away. I remember thinking it will all  be ok. You will come home, you will get back to your life and we would never have to think about that Humvee ever again. Little did we know we would be seeing the constant scrubbing of your hands and the blood never seeming to disappear from your mind.

I recall when you said you were having problems sleeping, suffering from severe nightmares when you could grab a few hours. I remember you telling me that something had gone wrong and that you woke up to smoke, someone shouting and how your head hurt so terribly bad. I remember you telling me that you had been seen by Charlie Med but, they sent you on your way to a 72 hour mission with Ranger candy and told to rest. You hadn't had any down time in months and your head hurt 24/7 for just as long. Little did we know then, just how bad you hurt your head. 

Coming home, you were flown by yourself. You felt like an outcast, suddenly unwanted and used up. No parades, no handshake, no "Welcome Home, Son", and no pomp and circumstance. I remember watching for you with so much excitement, scanning the people coming off the plane and not seeing you at all. Suddenly, you were standing in front of me. You had changed so much that you didn't resemble anything close to the person I knew and I had missed you walking up to me because you changed that much.

Unrecognizable, I looked in shock at your hair that had turned completely white, your facial hair had white throughout, the etched lines of horror in your face and.... the shadow. It's been almost eight years this October and I still can't find the right words to describe what I saw walking up to me. It was you but, it wasn't. There was almost this haunted distant look in your eyes, your embrace cold and empty, and a darkness that almost seemed alive under your facial expressions. I knew then, that the Army lied to all of us families when they told us you might come home with sleep issues but, not to worry.

I knew you would never be the same again. We would never be the same. How in the hell did eighteen months cause so much change in each of us?

The first night home you were distant. In bed, you tossed and turned as you slept with your gun beside you. I woke to find you wandering around the house as if on guard against unseen forces that I would never meet. I remember tears falling uncontrollably, wondering just what the hell you went through and how helpless I felt when I led you back to bed, consoling the demons that had followed you home. I look back now, and think "And here I thought those times were bad" because that seemed so pale in comparison to what followed the next seven years we had with you.

Seven years with you

94 months and 2,820 days we have lived a nightmare.

In all that time, I must have heard "You're better off without me" on a daily basis. I woke every morning wondering if this would be the day you died. I went to bed thanking God that we made it through another twelve hours and to please just bring sleep and peace for just that one night. I remember finding you outside many nights, sleepwalking and how I had to sleep with arms around you and legs over yours just so I could be alerted to any movements you made. I remember waking up every morning not knowing who I would be facing that day. I remember the drunk moments where you would tell me all the horrible things you saw and did just sure that it would make me run away. Those words still hurt to this day and I always wondered what made you tell me so many horrible things but, none hurt that much as the tears that were streaming down your face as you spit them out at me. I remember the night you drank so much you had to be pumped because you had alcohol poisoning.  

Still, throughout it all, I never once thought I would be better off without you. I never once gave up on you even though I think you gave up long before you ever got off that plane. Your first suicide attempt still lingers in my mind and I can still feel the rage and helplessness I felt when the VA emergency doctor told me that I was failing you and I wasn't doing a very good job. I recall finding the little things you hid in shoes like broken glass shards, razor blades, and guns hidden in the insulation in the basement. There are quiet moments that are shattered with the memories of the echoes of your screaming my name as they forced me out of the hospital room; escorted by security guards as if I was a criminal because I demanded they help you instead of leaving you to sit. I will never forget them fighting you on the bed, strapping you down with padded ties while I watched horrified at their treatment of you and in shock that you had fallen so badly. 

Still, I don't think I ever once thought that I would be better off without you. 

Man, did we fight. Somehow though, you would always come back around with a backhanded apology that was usually blaming everyone else and I would always give in and try just one more time; taking any little scrap of human emotion you could fake as a sign of hope. The drinking, the lies, the excessive spending, the fits of rage over the smallest of things, and so much more and still, you were the one man I would have done anything for. For years you told me angrily that I would never understand what you went through. For years, you never tried to see what was happening to our family and you never understood the pain and loneliness I felt or the tears I would cry late at night in the bathroom. I struggled daily with resentment, anger at the world, the government and, the feeling of helplessness because I just couldn't make it go away for you. But, you were right.....I would never understand what you went through or what you had to do although, God knows I tried. 

There was so much we hid from everyone we knew. So much that many never knew what happened behind closed doors; some so bad that I will never let anyone know. Some things I will share if it means saving just one more as you had hoped and some, I just want people to remember what a good person you were and how big your heart really was. I want people to know your story because I think it's important.

I wish you were here......I wish I could say how sorry I am for failing you. How I wished you hadn't given up on me. How sorry I am that the damn spaghetti plate I saved for you hadn't made you so upset. I still to this day struggle with making "sketti" because you know your boys love it so. If there is a noodle that sits out in the pot too long, how it makes me tremble and shake with the memory. I wish I had answers on what had upset you so badly that night to just lose all control. What could have been so awful that it made you sit in a cemetery, the one place you feared so badly, for months prior to? I wish I could tell you that I know all your secrets and the truth came out on how much you really had hidden from all of us but, somehow I think you wouldn't really care about that. In some ways, I shouldn't care about all that either but, it bothers me on a daily basis.
There wasn't a line you didn't cross in our time together. There wasn't a thing I wouldn't have done to help you. After your second attempt, I lived daily with the resentment you had that I hadn't just left you to die. I lived daily and still do this day, wondering if I made the right decisions to get you help. 2014 brought us false hope I realized. I am not even sure now if you really had been on the upswing and the plans you made had any truth to them. It was though, nice to see you smile more and be more positive. We made plans to take a trip, you had made fishing plans with your friends and you wanted to try and learn some new things. I sat down weeks after, uncovering more and more things that you had hid from your family.  I was stunned, shocked and angry but mostly, I was just sad. Sad, that you felt you had to live so many lies and cover so many ugly truths to the point I don't know how you kept up with all of it. Sad, because that wasn't you at all. Sad, because lying to all of us was the only way you had communicated with any of us. I feel so betrayed but, also just tremendous hurt for you because it was apparent that your world was crumbling apart. I don't know how you did it and it amazes me still, how you were able to do the things you did without anyone knowing.
What came home was a person filled with rage, dishonesty, revenge, hate, and immense guilt. These were the five things that I could never fight. Lord knows I tried but, it became clear that no matter what I did, it just wasn't good enough. Going home to close out our house, I discovered more secrets still hidden among your things. Going home, our community seemed to only remember that night and how you died. Not the person you were, not the person who gave his shirt off his back to help; it was disheartening to me to hear people bad mouth you. I didn't think I could bear anymore and while our love for each other had changed so drastically, I would always respond to your "I'm an asshole" with "Ahh but, you're my asshole!". That day, it ran through my head all day long that "he may have been an asshole but, he was my asshole!". I wanted to come up swinging, ripping them apart and call them every name in my book I could muster. But, all I could do was just stand there listening and being so disappointed in just being a human being. It hurt when they couldn't even get your name right and I wondered what you would say had you been there with me. It was so clear how much you tried to hide your wounds from the rest of the world.
Sometimes people will remind me about having hope. I have learned to smile politely and nod because I wonder if they know that I had a lot of hope. I had more hope than anyone else. I had hope that things would get better, I had hope that doctors would be able to help you, hope that one day you would lay down the bottle and walk away from it forever. I hoped we would find common ground between us that wasn't Wounded Warrior related or had anything to do with the military.  I hoped one day you would come home to us and see that no matter what you had done, we loved you and were there. All hope did was bleed us dry, left me feeling deflated and led to your death. It is so very hard  not to scream back "Hope? What exactly is hope? I hoped for a lot of things and it just got worse. Pardon me, if I seem to be slacking in that department due to past life experiences!". I know though....they would never understand and would just tongue in cheek, cluck and tell me I am wrong. I wonder if they had lived through what we had, would they still have that same hope they preach to me? I always walk away thankful though, that they didn't have to live what we went through but, also angry because it seems so easy for many.
I wonder if you watch over us, sorry for all the things you did and said, and I wonder if you're ok. I miss our friendship but, even today I wonder if that was all a lie too? Sometimes I sit and pick through the many lies and wonder what was true and what was just your way of trying to convince outsiders that you were normal and had no issues. I often wondered why I was the only one you showed the truth to when it came to your problems. I wanted to think years ago, it was because you trusted me enough to show all your cracks and faults. Now....I just wonder if you were still punishing me for things I didn't even do; angry at me because I was the one person who didn't judge you and wouldn't give up on you. I was the one person you didn't have to hide from but, yet you were always walking away. I wonder if you knew how much it devastated me you simply just gave up on me and walked away without ever looking back. I wonder if you knew how many hours I researched, looked, and how many people I talked to just trying to get some answers for you. Sometimes, I wonder if you ever loved me at all or if I was just someone there to fill the space.
The not knowing is killing me and the question of "why" hurts me everyday. Since being back home, my heart just hurts. I am mad because I had so much faith in the world, perhaps a little naive because my view was always through rose colored glasses. I am disappointed in a way, in so many people. I remember that night you died, you told me I was so stupid to believe everyone had a good side to them. How everything was my fault because if I had been smart, I would have left you long ago. I said I tried so hard, doing anything and everything I could to help you. You responded with "I never asked you to do all that". You were completely right and unfortunately, I learned the hard way. But, in a way you were wrong too, because I still try to see the good in people and I always, tried to find the good in you even when you were at your worst. I stayed because no one else was there for you and I promised I wouldn't let you fall. I feel like I broke that promise but, I kept you up for seven years after coming home and I think whether it was wrong or right in your eyes, I fulfilled that promise and it still counts for something. Yes, you are right. You never once asked me to do any of that but, you didn't have to ask.
I tried so hard to keep up. I sometimes sit and think about that night and the things you shouted at me. Angry at me because I was helping other Veterans; the ones you put into my lap and told me to "take care of it". Angry at me because I was so worn down, sick and tired when you left me there to take care of everything like I had always done. Infuriated because some of your lies were slipping out and that was somehow my fault. I remember standing there feeling devastated when you told me you wished I would hurry up and just die because it would have been so much easier on you. I wonder if you really meant that? I remember watching your face change back and forth between rage and just desperation as if every word that came out of mouth was a neon SOS for help. Some days, I just don't understand what happened that night or what made you say those awful things.

Perhaps I never will......and that's what kills and hurts me the most these days.
I'm glad you are no longer in severe pain.
I'm happy that you are where you needed to be.
But, I am angry that you just simply handed your pain to me as if our lives would be so much better without you.
I am angry because you thought all the pain and heartache would end for us once you were gone when it made it that much worse.
You left your pain to your family to carry for the rest of their lives.
I wonder if you know.....
I wonder if you even give a damn.
Why did you just leave us when we never once left you?

Writing Out The Pain (The Beginning of a Series)

 

A lot has happened in the past few months leaving me feeling like I just rode out the worst tornado and I am still trying to assess the damage. There are days where I still feel like I am bleeding out although I can't find any wounds other than my broken heart. There are days where I am so numb that only the pain in my heart reminds me I am still breathing. There are times where I hide away from the world because it's simply just to miserable to bear and then there are days where I fully live.

I made it home, honey. 

But, it wasn't our home anymore.

There are times where I can hear you talking to me. Sometimes it's screaming out in my head, other times I play charades when your voice is simply in my heart; desperately trying to make out what you are telling me. Those moments when I hear you, I still become afraid and excited all at once. I hate those moments where I feel disappointment because I know you are gone. I feel ashamed that you still scare me. Then there is the heartbreak that you are somewhere I don't know and I know you are the person you used to be; not that of what war graciously sent back like an unwanted second hand item. I want so badly to see the you that you were before war changed everything. There are days where I am mentally cursing you using every vile word I can possibly think of and then there are times where my heart just simply keeps me quiet because there are no words to fill that hole you made. I think some days you were the only person in my entire life that for once, took the words out of my vocabulary. You were the only one who shattered my soul.

We had plans. 

You had made so many plans. 

Grief counseling and books tell me that you were supposed to show all the signs and for this past 22 months? I have done nothing but, replay it out in my head; over and over again. I wonder how did I miss the suicide letter they say that's in the norm? Or did I miss the subtle things like suddenly giving things away that were important to you?  You didn't have any final preparations that you made. Did you visit people anticipating you were going to make your exit? Everything else in between like talking about death or feeling worthless....well, that pretty much sums up how you felt long before you even stepped off that plane from Iraq. I sit sometimes for hours wondering how come these grief sites and books don't fit into the category of our life after combat?

But then, you and I were never one to follow the beat of other drums, were we? 

 How was I supposed to separate "our norm" from the signs of suicide?

How was I to know you were planning for months prior to that night? 

There are many who blame me solely for your death; asking me how I didn't see any of it coming? 

It was because there was nothing different than what we had been dealing with for eight years.

My mind likes to play hide and seek with my memories. There are times where I see your smile in our sons and my heart just lights up because they are so very much like you. Sometimes, I don't remember your face although there were many nights alone where I sat and memorized every line in your face; afraid that one day I would forget. I remember feeling so alone and thinking you were a million miles away from us. I must have known then you weren't going to make it no matter what we did. Sometimes, I watch a video of you just so I can see your face again; replaying it for hours on end. Other times, I have to stay up all night watching stupid tv shows just to squeeze out the memory of you that lurks in my mind and haunts me. Some days I have to lie in bed with the covers over my head hiding from the echoes of the past that still make me tremble. Some days it just hurts to breathe but, I am trying.

I'm not as angry at you now as I was before. I still have my moments. Perhaps one day, I will forgive you and the pain will subside. Other moments, I don't want to forgive you at all. 

I'm still so so very angry. 

Angry because you left me here to unravel all the lies......

Pissed because I am still apologizing for you and making excuses.

You left me here alone to deal with the aftermath.

You left me when I needed you the most....

And you left me here to bear the cross on your behalf. 

No matter what you did, no matter what you said....I was there. All you had to do was let me in. For every hour you spent shoving us all away, you could have taken five minutes to talk to me. You could always tell me anything and I would have listened as always and we would have figured it out together. You could have always told me anything and everything. You could have told me that you were spiraling down and the world had become so dark that you couldn't find any light. I would have done anything to hunt down that light source for you. 

Sometimes I wonder what your purpose was, honey. 

Was this it? 

Was it to save some and not be saved at all? 

Is there a reason behind all this pain and suffering?

I would hope it wasn't in vain. 

I found you among the rubble of what once was our home. I heard you call my name and point me in the right direction. I feel like I failed so many people in our lives. I feel like I failed you in so many ways. I feel you failed us. I sit sometimes reading on Facebook and articles on the life and people that made up our daily lives. I shake my head, I clench my fists and some days I shed a lot of tears; wondering if I made the right decision to back away? I wonder if somehow, someway our story helped anyone? I walked into our home, took a long look outside and I don't know if it was you guiding me or if it was someone else but, I have decided to tell our story. Just like we have always done; with the shock and awe factor as you called it. It was the one thing you and I had in common, the one single thing we completely agreed on after you came home.....just to save one more from falling in the cracks like you had. 

 So for a while, I will be writing out our pain, your story, our story and share all the details I can remember. I dread the reliving it, I am afraid of what people will think or say but, I hear you tell me it's what we need to do. To show the world and our Veterans, that we aren't better off without you. I want to show all the things they should think about before they simply give up and walk away.  I don't know if it's the right thing to do or if I am simply making another mistake but, when it hit me standing outside of our broken home.....it felt like you were saying "Yes, Mommy! You are supposed to do this!". All I can hope is that you are guiding me where I need to be as I once guided you. I need to write as I have always done to let all this built up inside me, out. 

Then, I am going to let you go. I have to.  

 I once promised you that I would never let you become a statistic forgotten in a VA drawer somewhere. I failed at you becoming a statistic but, I promise you will  never be forgotten. 

They couldn't even get your name right.......