"fresh start purposes"

 As promised Chad showed up early yesterday morning with two cleaning crews: one to clean Nick’s things out and temporarily move them to storage and the other to clean up everything else. I stayed out of the way inside the house. I stayed away because emotionally I needed to.

What I didn’t expect was a painter to show up. Chad hired him to repaint the entire inside of the garage. He claims for “fresh start purposes”. That was a very thoughtful and unexpected gift for him to give me. He refused to let me pay him for anything.

Around 2 p.m. I heard the rumble of the Mach 1 pull into the driveway and then into the garage followed by the sound of the SUV that we’d used for road trips and our former business. As I suspected, both cars had been put into storage until such time that I needed them. 

Spider Q knocked on the front door and handed the keys to both vehicles to me. I thanked him for bringing them to the house personally. He told me to let him know if I needed anything.

After the vehicles were returned Chad asked if I’d be willing to go into the garage to make certain everything was done to my liking. I told him I’d take his word for it, but he insisted.

He led me to the back hallway, opened the interior garage door, stepped down into the garage and held his hand out to me.

“Come on, Red. Take my hand.”

Nervously I took his hand and stepped down into the garage. Everything looked clean and bright. There were no remnants remaining that something horrific had happened in there.

I looked around and remarked, “I only see one problem.”

“What’s that?” Chad asked.

I smiled and replied, “I only need one car.” And with that I handed him the keys to the vintage Mach 1.

He was speechless and confused for a moment. 

“Red! I can’t take this! It’s too much!” he replied and tried to give me the keys back.

Pulling the letter Nick left me out of my back jeans pocket, I opened it and allowed him to read it for the first time. 

The fifth paragraph of the note read, “I know Chad has always envied my life and everything I have in it. You know, my good looks and charm, the car, and most of all you. You give him the Mach, baby. After all, I roped him into being here so he could help you through all this because I knew he would. Please tell him I am sorry I had to do that."

 

As a personal note: I’d never read the letter Nick left me until Thursday night. My emotions for the past three years had been too raw after his death. I finally decided I wanted and needed to know the why.

it's like drowning

It’s like drowning in a dark gray and angry sea with no land in sight. Agonizingly you never actually go under, succumb, and drown. You endlessly struggle.

It’s like having half of yourself ripped away and you can’t stop the hemorrhaging.

It’s like having a rabid ax constantly striking you and taking you apart piece by piece.

I’ve survived being tortured. In many ways this is worse.

When someone you love commits suicide the pain, the grief, the frustration, and the anger eventually give way to cavernous darkness that claws into your very soul.

Suicide might be an easy and most attractive choice for you, but anguish and sorrow never end for the ones who love you that you leave behind. 

"how does one misplace three cars?!"

 Late Sunday afternoon…

I could tell Chad’s gears in his brain were spinning like he was trying hard to figure something out after he came in from the garage. He finally spoke up.

“Now…here’s an odd question for you. Ok well maybe not SO odd because it’s you but…” he paused. “Why do you have a three-car garage with no cars in it? Don’t you have a car, Red?” he asked.

I didn’t quite know how to answer that question. 

“I’m not sure,” I replied.

He looked at me sideways for a minute. "What do you mean you’re not sure? How does one misplace three cars?!” he asked incredulously.

Technically, I didn’t misplace them. I only knew where one was for sure, and it was crushed three years ago courtesy of the police when I told them I didn’t want it back. (The old Subaru was the car Nick chose to take his own life in.)

There were so many people at the house coming and going for a couple days after Nick’s death that someone may have moved them or borrowed them. I honestly don’t remember.

Chad just looked at me in disbelief. “The Mach 1?! That beautiful bright red and black ‘71 fastback sexy vintage mint condition with original black leather seats to-die-for Mach 1 Mustang?! A car like that don’t just wander off without being heard or seen, Red! You don’t know where it is?! What the…?!”

I knew he loved Nick’s car. He was so envious of it when he saw it for the first time, I think he actually drooled. We’ll just call it “Mustang Envy” for lack of a better term.

“Are you shittin' me?!” he asked.

“No. Maybe somebody moved it out to our storage facility? I don’t know, Chad. I’m sure it will turn up at some point,” was all I could say. Truthfully, I’d not thought about it. “I’ll give Q a call later in the week and ask if he knows where it went, ok?”

Chad pulled out his cell phone. “What’s his number? Let’s call him right now.”

I just looked at Chad, chuckled, and shook my head.

it's a new day

 I woke up early Sunday morning with a brand-new outlook. Ashlee and Chad were right about everything they’d said. I needed to snap out of all this mourning. It’s been three years and life has continued despite Nick being gone.

The blue and green buttoned up plaid shirt he’d been wearing and took off the day he died was still draped over the back of one of our kitchen chairs. His boots were still in the front hallway where he’d left them. His hairbrush and toiletries were still on the bathroom counter and his clothes were still in the dresser and bedroom closet.  The book-marked book he’d been reading was still on top of the nightstand on his side of the bed.

Chad was right. This house had become a mausoleum.  It’s time to bring life back inside.

I began by opening every single curtain in the house which had remained closed since his death. “Let there be light,” I thought. Doing that also helped me see I had a lot of cleaning to do.

Hesitation almost got the better of me when it got to the point I needed to ask for some help.

Chad was genuinely surprised I called him.

“You told me if I needed anything to give you a call. I’m cleaning Nick’s things out of the house. If your offer is still open, I think I could use some help,” I said quietly.

“Anything you need, Red! I told you that. I’m on my way. Thank you for asking me, honey.”

Where Nick and I bought a house in 2019 is about an hour from the city we used to live in when we first got married and where Chad still lives. It says an awful lot about someone who is willing to drop everything at a moment’s notice to help you. I feel so lucky he’s still such a good friend after all this.

Music had also been missing in my life for a long time. I turned on the CD player, cranked the volume up loudly blaring music which I’m certain my neighbors appreciated so very early on a Sunday morning.  I opened a dusty box of garbage bags and began filling them one by one. Everything had to go. Everything except for his biker gear, his books, his guitar, and the letter he’d left for me. I’m keeping those things only for sentimental reasons but packing them away out of sight in the attic. “Out of sight – out of mind.” (I wish!)

Metallica’s song Sad But True was on full volume coming out of my surround sound speakers. The walls and the large glass sliding doors in the room were reverberating. You just can’t not move to that song. At least, I can’t. I was dancing and singing along in the two-story family room.

I’d lost track of time. I did not hear the doorbell ring, but I had left the door unlocked for him. I hadn’t heard him come in. My eyes were closed as I was dancing on the large wooden coffee table. When the song ended, I jumped off the table to change the CD.  

And that’s when I heard Chad snickering.

He was rather amused. “I rang the doorbell twice. There. She. Is! You still got it, Red!” he laughed from the kitchen. “You know, honey, dancin’ is not one of my skills. Is that what you invited me over for? A little go-go action?”

Embarrassed he’d seen me like that, I started laughing.

“What can I help you with?” he grinned.

I lead him to the back hallway door. Reluctantly, I opened the door, flipped on the light, and looked up at him.

He stepped back for a moment, looked down at me and asked, “Why is the door to the garage boarded up?”

Because after Nick committed suicide out there, I never, ever wanted to go back into that space. That’s why.

I quietly replied, “The last time I came in through this door is when you carried me in. I can’t go out there, Chad. I just can’t. That’s why I asked for your help.”

He pulled me into him and wrapped his arms around me. “All right, honey. Do you want me to clean the garage out?”

I just shook my head yes against his chest.

“Do you still have that storage unit in town?” he asked.

I shook my head yes again.

“Why don’t you go find a drill and I’ll take a look.” As I started to walk away to find the drill, “Hey…” he took my hand in his and paused, “please don’t fall back into that dark place when I open this up, ok?” He let go of my hand, smiled reassuringly, and rubbed my back with his hand.

After removing the sheet of plywood I’d screwed over the door frame that led to the attached three car garage, he went in for approximately five minutes and walked back inside the house. “You know, Red…” he began, “if you’re okay with it, I think I’ll get a cleanup crew to come over and take care of all this. I’ll be here to supervise when they do, so you don’t have to go out there.”

 

One thing no one tells you, which I will, is that when someone commits suicide (at least in this state) neither the police nor paramedics clean up the scene. They don’t even pick up after themselves. You as the family are expected to do it.

mr. tin man

TIN MAN

Hey there, Mr. Tin Man

You don’t know how lucky you are

You shouldn’t spend your whole life wishing

For something bound to fall apart

 

Every time you’re feeling empty

Better thank your lucky stars

If you ever felt one breaking

You’d never want a heart

 

Hey there, Mr. Tin Man

You don’t know how lucky you are

I’ve been down the road that you’re on

It didn’t take me very far

 

You ain’t missing nothing

‘Cause love is so damn hard

Take it from me darling

You don’t want a heart

 

Hey there, Mr. Tin Man

I’m glad we talked this out

You can take mine if you want it

It’s in pieces now

 

By the way there, Mr. Tin Man

If you don’t mind the scars

You give me your armor

And you can have my heart

 

~ Written by Miranda Lambert, Jack Ingram, John Randall

i guess eleven times is the charm

Tuesday night, my phone rang four times. Hang up. And again, four times and another hang up. This repeated ten times. When it happened for the eleventh time, I finally picked up.

Right out of the gate I hear, “Your voicemail is full, Red.”

“Oh. Hi,” I replied.

“Look…I know you asked me to leave you alone and I’ve done that. For three years, I’ve held to my word. I've left you alone. But that changes when your kid calls me cryin’ her eyes out sayin’ she’s thinking about quitting college to move back home because she’s worried sick about you. That got me thinkin’ maybe I should be a lot more concerned about how you’re doin’. So…how are you doin’, Red?” Chad was very matter of fact and slightly angry in his tone.

I was sort of taken aback and didn’t say anything.

“Okay. So, what is it I can do to snap you the fuck out of all this, huh? Come on, Red! Do you really want Ash to quit school?!”

I quietly responded with, “No.”

“That’s three words out of your mouth. I know you got a hell of a lot more to say than that!” he snorted.

“How are you, Chad?” I asked.

I heard a loud sigh on the other end of the line. “Fuck how I am! I’m all worried about you! Don’t you have anything else to say for yourself?! Jesus, Red! Come on! Please talk to me!”

I honestly couldn’t come up with anything to say to a man I’d been friends with forever.

“Ok…if that’s the way this is gonna go then you give me no choice, honey. I’ll see you in a little while.”

“Wait…no, don’t come here!” I said in a panic.

“Too late, Red!” And he hung up the phone.

An hour and twenty minutes later he pounded on the front door like he was going to break it down. “RED! OPEN THE GODDAMN DOOR!”

Reluctantly, I unlocked the door to let him in. I didn’t want the neighborhood Nick and I had moved into in 2019 confirming I was the resident crazy lady widow recluse.

“Here!” he said as he shoved a bag of Chinese food into my hand and pushed himself right by me.

“Chad,” I started to say something, and he interrupted me.

“When a little girl I’ve watched grow up calls me bawlin’ her eyes out, I just can’t handle it! Especially when it’s Ash!” He walked down the hallway and into the kitchen.

“I’m so sorry, Chad. I don’t know why she called you.” I was ashamed of myself that Ashlee felt pushed to that kind of desperation.

“Well I do! I’m all she’s got left! Both her daddies are gone, and you’ve mentally gone…I don’t know where. She didn’t know who the hell else to call!” He was definitely angry and concerned.

“I…I see your point. Let’s sit down and talk, okay?” I pointed to the kitchen table.

He appeared to let out a huge sigh of relief, pulled a chair out and sat down. He shook his head, “You look like shit, Red. No offense.”

What he said made me chuckle. “Wow! Thanks! No offense taken!”

We sat quietly for a while and ate together.

“You need to get out of this house, honey. It’s like a tomb in here. Red, you need to rejoin the living. Despite being grown up Ashlee still needs her mom and Nick…I know he wouldn’t want you living like this.”

Tears started to pour down my cheeks.

Chad pulled me into his arms. “You listen to me. What he did is not your fault, honey. You aren’t responsible and you’re not to blame. You did more than was humanly possible for that man. You did everything you could possibly do. You cry it all out. Every damn bit of it, Red. I’m here to bring you back to life. That’s what I’m here for. Please…come back to us!”

a concerned daughter

Ashlee made a surprise visit to see me this past weekend. She’s now twenty-one and currently in her third year of college. I hadn’t expected to see her, so I was completely caught off guard. 

“Mom?” I heard her shout from just inside the front door. 

I was on the second floor in the loft reading a book. “Ashlee?” Dropping my book, I headed for the stairs. She met me halfway. 

“What are you doing here, honey? Is something wrong at school?” I asked inquisitively as she stepped up on the landing. 

She pulled me into her arms and hugged me tightly. “I was so worried about you,” she sighed with relief. “I tried calling you all week and you weren’t answering your phone!” 

I realized I must have forgotten to charge it and the battery had gone dead. Admittedly, I haven’t been staying on top of things like I used to. I apologized for freaking her out. 

We sat down in the two large brown leather chairs in the loft where she decided it was time to have a heart-to-heart discussion with me. 

“Daddy died three years ago this week. You haven’t been the same since he died, mom. I can’t get you to come to visit me at school. All your friends say they haven’t been able to get in touch with you. Chad says he hasn’t seen or heard from you since the funeral. You won’t even answer the door when people stop by. WHEN was the last time you were out of this house?” She seemed genuinely concerned.  

Depression is fierce. It’s not something I’ve handled well. I find I have been completely numb emotionally and unable to even attempt to deal with anyone or anything. I honestly feel when Nick died, I died too. Only…I’m still physically here for some unknown reason and I’ve become a recluse. 

“I’m so sorry to have worried you, Ashlee. I honestly didn’t mean for you to get all worked up and fly home to check on me. I promise you I will be better at making sure my phone is always charged from now on. I feel terrible for frightening you. I am sorry!” 

 She stood up and paced back and forth momentarily. Then she knelt in front of me. 

“Mom, I have my own apartment this year and I’d really like it if you would go back to school with me even for just a week. I think you need to get out of this house for a while. Being in the same place every day where daddy died can’t be good for you.” 

As hard as this is to write, part of me never wants to leave this house ever again. It almost feels like a betrayal if I walk out the front door. While I love my daughter, I don’t feel it would be fair to her to have to deal with me daily as I currently am. 

“I just need some time, honey. Your daddy dying like he did is not something one gets over easily. I need you to understand I must deal with this in my own time and in my own way, okay? I don’t want you to worry about me.” I feigned a smile. 

 She stayed the weekend but made me promise I would do another  thing for her…write at least once a week on this blog so she has some sense that I am okay.