Two Years Later

Life with his illness, was no life at all. It was a waiting game, for the other shoe to drop. All of the time. Every, single morning, I waited to hear him call me from work. That meant he was there. He wasn't dead somewhere. He wasn't skipping out on work. He was earning money. He was safe in his cubicle. I would sigh a big sigh. But that stopped happening. The living hell of not being able to find him, of calling hospitals, searching parking lots, etc. etc. to find him when he had attempted before...of seeing the look in the kids' faces when I'd have to tell them I couldn't find their dad and how telling them later that he was in a hospital and had attempted suicide yet again, that that face was BETTER.... oh, I get sick thinking about it. I lived with constant stress for many many years. I began to believe that the world was an uncaring place, and that we were destined for unhappiness. I began to believe what Gordon believed. And, there was very little truth to any of it. Any of it! I am convinced that Gordon and I met at a time when we were both very vulnerable. I never knew so many of my weaknesses, until I met Gordon. And, here was a man who almost celebrated weakness. We were weak, together. And, it was the big, old world, against us. That is how we lived. Us vs. Them. We can't catch a break. Poor us. The world is full of disappointment.

In the end, I was literally exhausted, and told him so and that I could not continue living life with him and trying to recover from breast cancer. I wanted a separation. And, by golly, he gave me one. Three hours after that conversation, he jumped off a building.

And, try as I might to deny this feeling that I had when I opened the door to the two police officers, I have to say that the overwhelming sensation I had was: relief. It was finally over. It had finally come. The inevitable. Big, bad life had swallowed him up.

But what I know now, two years later, is that life is full of possibility, not disappointment. A lot of disappointment is rooted from within. And, as long as I live life, and don't waste it, there are rich rewards. I'm not even talking about falling in love again. I may not ever fall in love again. And, that is ok. It really is. I believe there is enough life in this world to sustain me. So much to do, so much to see. Gordon didn't see it. And, try as I might, and by god, I tried all of the friggin time, he still didn't get it. And, that didn't mean I had to compromise my own happiness for his unhappiness.

I see a blue sky and I hear a bird sing and I feel a cool breeze. I take a deep breath. Gordon didn't see a sky, or hear a bird, or feel a breeze. He just felt his breath, in and out, and wanted it to stop. I never got that, and I am ok with not knowing. I am giving myself permission NOT to feel his pain. He had that covered. I don't need to wallow in it, too.

Life is for living, not dying. And, I started to live again, when Gordon died. I loved him more than he loved himself. I continue to miss him and can recall him, every inch of him. I would probably cut off a leg or an arm or two, to see him again, to hold him. But, I'll never let go of the feeling I have inside of me, that tells me I'm alive, and the world is full of hope and possibility. I'll never, ever sacrifice that feeling to anyone, in the name of love. Having a ring on my finger came with a mighty price. And, it nearly killed me. My kids could be orphans today, had I lived the life that Gordon lived. His pain is over. Our pain is over. It really is. And, believe me, I miss him everyday. The first thing I think of still when I wake up, is Gordon. The last thing I think of when I go to sleep, is Gordon. But, in between, I live. And, thank God I am alive.