Reliving It All (Part 1)

Dear Brian,

It's been three weeks, and after all the hubbub, I'm wondering if I'm ready to recount the actual day you chose death by suicide.

It was Tuesday, and I was only scheduled to work until 3PM and drove home my normal route, talking on the phone to Grandma.  I let myself in and Sadie greeted me at the door.  Your room was dark, the door halfway closed, I assumed you were sleeping until your work shift started.  I set down my things and opened the back door for Sadie.  I looked up and saw you laying on the rocks.  I hollered "OH MY GOD BRIAN" and ran over to where you were.  Your skin was greyish, there was dried blood under your nose.  Your right hand still held a gun, your left hand was clenched.

My guts started churning and I ran into the house and called 911.  After I told them my emergency, they said they would transfer me.  (Thinking about this later, I found it very odd!!)  I was on the line for what seemed like forever, they wouldn't let me hang up while waiting for police officers to show up. 

Two cop cars pulled up in front of the house, lights flashing and got out of their cars, but wouldn't approach the house.  My phone rang, 911 was on the line, and I had to go outside before the officers would approach.  One came up, knocked on the open door and announced "Police! I'm coming in".  I know ... procedure.  But in the midst of it all, I wanted to laugh because no one else was in there. 

They kept me outside while they did an entire search of the house, making sure it was empty.  If it hadn't been, I would have been totally shocked! !  I had to recount my story several times to the police officers.  Then I needed to use the restroom.  I went into my bedroom and closed the door, but they came knocking and chased me out.  Guess they didn't think I should be alone. 

They questioned me about having guns in the house (not that I know of) and about who lives in the house.  In between all the questions, I sent Tanya a text "Brian died, come home" ... she texted me back "Is this a joke??"  Then I sent the same to Alonzo, so that he would know I wasn't joking.  I texted my sister and said I was going to call Mom's house and please answer the phone.  That's when I told her.  Then I had to call your dad.  He was in shock, I told him the police were still questioning me, and I'd call later when I knew more.  15 minutes later, he called me back and asked "ARE YOU SURE???" Well, duh.  I wouldn't make this shit up!! 

The police wouldn't leave until I wasn't alone any more.  While we waited for someone, they walked around and did a deep search, looking for guns or anything else.  I told one officer that as a kid you liked to hide things underneath the bathroom sink.  He checked, only found the knife you had taped to the wall.  In the meantime, Lori called Karen, who came right over.  They also called in a grief counselor who helped with making some of the decisions that I didn't seem able to make in the moment.  It was a relief when Karen got here.  Around that same time, the coroner and CSI team arrived as well, doing their thing in the back yard.   They were nice enough to keep me busy with questions in the living room while they loaded your body and took the gurney out through the back gate. 

It was even more of a relief when Tanya and Alonzo finally arrived.  They dropped everything to come home and help me with things.  There wasn't much we could do that evening.  We looked over some of the things in your room, trying to find a note, a clue, a reason.  We couldn't get your phone to work -- still can't -- and didn't find anything that gave us any answers to our millions of questions.

We sat around drinking water, food held no appeal whatsoever to any of us.  We had the TV on for some noise.  Finally it was late enough, I decided to crawl into bed and try to sleep, but that wasn't going to happen.  Every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was you, and my eyes would open back up, I was afraid to go to sleep and keep reliving the moment.   I drifted in and out of little naps; Frazier kept me entertained on the TV most of the night.  I felt like I couldn't catch my breath, that I was caught in the middle of a nightmare that I wanted to wake up from.

No such luck.

Disbelief, shock and grief do weird things to a person.  You stumble through ordinary chores (Does anyone need more water?  Should I fix dinner?) and yet the nightmare doesn't let you out of it's grip.