I initiated a separation from my husband in September 2010, because of various stressors that seemed never-ending. He moved in with a relative and I adjusted to being a single parent again with my son (from my first marriage). We kept in contact over the following eight months; but never spoke about next steps for our marriage.  Well – not until Sunday, June 5, 2011 when he called to wish me a happy anniversary and jokingly suggested that I had forgotten. With the same joking energy, I refreshed his memory of the travels to Jamaica for our nuptials and explained he was a day early…our seventh anniversary was June 6th.  Despite it being almost 10 years, his voice still resounds clearly in my head as he inquired about the future of our marriage.  I replied that I did not know; but neither of us had filed for divorce so that obviously meant we were not ready to make a decision. I explained that we each had room for improvement and needed to work on being happy with ourselves – otherwise, we would not be good for nor happy with each other. I had no cause for concern at the end of our call. I anticipated revisiting the decision another day.

During the afternoon of Wednesday, June 8^th I received the news of my husband being found deceased. I did not get details during the initial call, because I was overwhelmed with shock and rushed off the phone. My mind processed the news in a way which led me to think he was the victim of a crime.  I instantly thought “oh my goodness, he must have been in the wrong place at the wrong time…who, how, and why?”  The subsequent calls and details provided answers, while steering my mind and life to a place unimaginable.

• Who?
  • My husband was the cause of his passing. He committed suicide.
• How?
  • On Tuesday, June 7^th he left his relatives home and checked into a hotel for one night. He was seen that evening returning to his hotel room with food. Sometime during the morning of Wednesday, June 8^th he hung himself in the closet of that room.
• Why?
  • He left a note apologizing for what he had done; but it did not specify “why”.  A line read “I know I should have said something, but I didn’t.”

Later that evening, with my stomach in knots, I recalled two prior conversations over the years in which my husband made reference to giving up.  My mind then went on what I refer to as “an emotional rollercoaster ride”…from heights of sadness, to jerks of anger, to plunges of blame, into spirals of confusion. I experienced that ride several times a week for months and one thing was constant – ACCEPTANCE. I had no choice but to ACCEPT the reality that my husband no longer wanted to live, regardless of him not saying “why.” Over time I created my own answer to start my healing – he was trapped in the strongest and darkest form of hopelessness.  I also had to ACCEPT that we, as his family and friends, did not pause long enough in our day-to-day routines to recognize the risks, signs, and to listen.