A Day in the Life of a Suicide Widow

**Trigger warning. Minor details of a suicide are spoken of in this piece.**

I hate mornings under normal circumstances, but my mornings are pretty much the same as anyone else’s…coffee, kid, dogs, coffee, coffee.

On days I have to work (I only work out of the home part-time), no matter how much time I think I give myself, I am usually running about ten minutes late. I manage to get my lipstick on without it smeared across my teeth, though. Well, most of the time, anyway.

On days that I don’t have to leave the house other than taking my daughter to and from school, I usually get a workout in and then dive into whatever work I’m doing to supplement my now single parent income. I do the vehicle maintenance, make the doctor’s appointments, endeavor (ha) at housework and all the normal ‘hausfrau’ duties.

I honestly lead one of the most boring lives imaginable, and part of me hates that. The other part of me is dead inside anyway, so as long as I have cable, a good book or even my glowing, once phone-like device nearby, I’m good.

Yes, I am only 50% alive.

At least that’s how I feel.

Last winter, on a Sunday afternoon, half of me was tragically killed.
My husband of nearly twelve years walked out to the garage, grabbed the .22 revolver* he had BEGGED me to purchase “for safety” only six weeks prior, sat in the driver’s seat of my car, and swallowed a bullet.

I discovered him, after the tell-tale bang, with our daughter following close behind. I remember thinking he was faking, until I saw the blood running down the side of his head. I pushed my daughter out of the way, and after that every memory that I can actually recall, is just a jumbled mix of weirdness, anger, gut wrenching illness and the most desperate feeling of helplessness I could ever describe.

He had done it. He had finally done it. After years of threatening. Years of trying valiantly to outrun his demons. Years of reckless behavior, substance use and abuse and bouts of extreme depression. Years of physical illness.
He had finally done it.

Truthfully, I never thought he would. Hindsight being 20/20 though, I am shocked he didn’t do it sooner. All the signs were there. I was just too blind to see them.