Monday, October 15, 2007

Some Thoughts

The thing about Jim's suicide is that it has brought the unthinkable into reality. Something that I never seriously considered an option is now a done deal. It's on the table. One of the books I'm reading has an anecdote told by a woman who survived the suicide of a loved one, and, after that, she started to worry about who was going to do it next.

I know EXACTLY what she means! Who knows who might do this, or when? It's as if one of the tenets of my life is shot away with Jim's gun. The idea that life is sacred, that hope springs eternal and that any problem can be dealt with, given time and determination. My life-long, ebullient optimism is taking a real beating.

I still have hope that it will return, in time. Meanwhile, duty keeps me going. I have a duty to Brendan, to get him off to school. I have two grown daughters who still need me, and a couple of grandsons. Optimism should kick in before all those people don't need me any more, right? Till one of them says, like my father did when Mom died, "With all due respect, Veronica, I don't NEED you at all."

I am eternally grateful for all my friends, both here on the net and in my day-to-day life. I will probably never be able to tell you all what your support means to me.

For the nonce, I am hanging in there.

9 comments:

  1. Hi there Ronni,

    Since this happened with Jim, I have often found myself thinking this could happen to any of us, because most men aren't great communicators and if anyone thinks this could never happen in my family, don't be fooled, in my family it was my mothers mother and we thought she was a wonderful communicator, I guess she wore a great mask. I am still helping my girlfriend out with her niece and nephew, it is a sad set up, to hear these little sweethearts ask about Dad and ask questions about what has happened to their Mummy. I have had a few loo breaks for a cry.

    I want you to know Ronni, it doesn't matter how much time passes if ever you need anything, you only have to ask and if I can help, I will.

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  2. HI:

    I have been away for several days--but I am keeping up with your blog.

    One day at a time. . .trust me on this.

    And try not to overthink JIm's suicide. It was a very personal decision that he made alone. He knew you would never endorse it. . and would work like heck to fix everything and continue your happily ever after.

    Glad to hear you are reading books about this--its good to know you are not alone--and many of your thoughts are quite typical of others (including me) who have been through this.

    Just this weekend (after 15 months) I thought MY JIm would be calling. How crazy is that?????

    You are going to survive, you will never be the same, life will go on, it will not be the way you planned it, and this first year is going to continue to be very very tough. Hang in there. Its guaranteed to be a bumpy ride--and when I read your blog, I feel it all over again.

    The good news is that I know you are going to be OK.

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  3. Thinking of you, Ronni, and admiring your strength and courage. I'm glad there are those posting who have lived through this same thing.

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  4. Life IS sacred. Hope springs eternal. Any problem can be dealt with, given time and determination.

    You're right. Don't ever lose sight of that.

    This friend is grateful for you too. Ride it out, gal. Just ride it out.

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  5. GOOD that you are hanging in there Ronni. And if it helps, your optimism DOES make a difference -- Imagine... what would *you* do without the positive encouragement of your friends? Of course no one "needs" encouragement or help, but our experience of the world is better for it. And what else is there?

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  6. Morning, Fire Berry! How is your show going? I spoke to Gabe the other day...I asked him, and he says he stays away from all that--too much drama. I don't think it was a pun.

    I hope to see it, but with Brendan's show at school this week, and Halloween at the costume shop, well, dotz...

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  7. I will always need you, Mom. In one way or another.

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  8. Ronni,

    I am so deeply sorry for your loss, and that the difficulties of this terrible experience have been compounded further for you and your family in the aftermath of Jim's death. I know this nightmare, as well- the kind that starts when you wake up instead of when you sleep. I'm sorry, too, that I didn't know of Jim's death until today. I haven't been reading any of my favorite blogs (or writing for my own) since I lost my second husband to cancer on September 9th. He left me a fine mess also, so I can relate.

    Anyway, I thought you may like this...

    The following was posted years ago on the Doe Network cold cases forum. I'm considering having it printed on a sign that I can wear around my neck for the next few months. It can be difficult when people who love and care for you aren't sure how to treat you after your loss. Actually, I find it quite exhausting because their distress over not knowing how to comfort me usually makes me want to comfort them.

    Shall I have a second one printed up for you while I'm at it? :-)


    I wish you would not be afraid to speak my loved one's name. They lived and were important and I need to hear their name.

    If I cry and get emotional if we talk about my loved one, I wish you knew that it isn't because you hurt me: the fact that they died causes my tears. You have allowed me to cry and I thank you. Crying and emotional outbursts are healing.

    I will have emotional highs and lows, ups and downs. I wish you wouldn't think that if I have a good cry my grief is all over, or that if I have a bad day I need psychiatric counseling.

    Being bereaved is not contagious, so I wish you wouldn't stay away from me.

    I wish you knew all the crazy grief reactions that I am having are in fact very normal. Depression, anger, fear, hopelessness and questioning of values and beliefs are to be expected following a death.

    I wish you wouldn't expect my grief to be over in 6 months. The first few years are going to be exceedingly traumatic for me. As with alcoholics, I will never be cured or a formerly bereaved, but forevermore be recovering from my bereavement.

    I wish you understood the physical reaction to grief. I may gain weight, lose weight, sleep all the time or not at all, develop a host of illnesses and be accident prone; all of which are related to my grief.

    My loved one's birthday, the anniversary of their death and the holidays can be terrible times for us. I wish you could tell me that you are thinking of us on these days. And if I get quiet and withdrawn, just know that I are thinking about my loved one and don't try to coerce me into being cheerful.

    I wish you wouldn't offer to take me out for a drink, or to a party. This is just a temporary crutch and the only way I can get through this grief is to experience it. I have to hurt before I can heal.

    I wish you understood that grief changes people. I am not the same person I was before my beloved died and I will never be that person again. If you keep waiting for me to get back to my old self you will stay frustrated. I am a new creature with new thoughts, dreams, aspirations, values and beliefs. Please try to get to know this different me — I'm the one who'll be here from now on.

    Author unknown

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  9. Donna, I am so sorry for your loss. Imagine. That's what Jim was trying to save himself from with that gun and that bullet.

    The essay you quoted is so very true. I think I will post it as an entry, as tomorrow is the two-month anniversary of Jim's suicide.

    Thank you for finding time in your own pain to commiserate with mine.

    Bless you.

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