The Slightest Gesture

The Slightest Gesture
(A dialog of tragedy)


We were introduced by our dating again daughter, with this newly found friend. A companion with whom she believed she could build a new life marriage, children, fulfillment. He was attractive, neat in appearance, intelligent. We spoke and exchanged laughter. He seemed genuine, sincere.

There was just one gesture that gave me doubt, pause, a moment of hesitation in my approval. As he spoke recalling years in the service and a tragic loss of his pregnant wife from a car accident, he raised both of his hands and with a circular motion, swept both of them over his face. It appeared to me an effort to erase some thought or emotion. Upon noticing this I hesitated in my approval. Then reprimanded myself for no one is ever good enough for our daughters. I brushed his gesture aside and placed it out of mind, never mentioning a word of concern to anyone. That was Thanksgiving Day, our fist meeting with Brian.

Our daughter looked so happy. This was wonderful to witness. She has seen much pain and loss. She struggles with life, choosing to eat briefly from its plate of bounty. She does not return for seconds in food or in relationships. One strike and you’re out theory is her mantra.

Marcia is beautiful to the eyes, yet unnerving to the soul. We long to embrace her yet she holds us at a distance that she describes as privacy. We question whether it is emotional distancing, yet we acknowledge her maturity and allow ourselves to respect her personal space.

Her dark brunette hair is thick and wavy, her eyes a deep chocolate that are mysterious and intense. She is slender and sensual in an alluringly subtle way. Men look at her and want to claim her like some prized possession, a new territory they can re- name. She has loved and lost and she carries much sorrow.

Brian seemed to be a ray of hope for new beginnings. Christmas came and I extended a welcome at our home. Our daughter said thank you but Brian may be away at that time. I reinforced the invitation; the door is open if his plans change.

Our family gathering was quiet and peaceful this year. We were all together. Brian could not attend he had difficulty with the holiday season I was told. I thought he had returned to visit his parents perhaps as I was told he took a plane somewhere.

Two days after Christmas he telephoned Marcia to say he was at home. “I never got on the plane he said I felt too depressed so I just stayed in bed.” They spoke she never told me exactly what was said only that she was done with him. I’m done with him, those words she said to her father, “I’m done.”
Without knowing Brian’s real story I was saddened for him. Thinking he came to the wrong place for compassion and understanding. He had encountered the one strike and you’re out rule. No one had warned him.

It is January 3rd (2007).
The holidays are over. Christmas decorations although still beautiful hang about an obvious chore to be removed. The New Year has been quietly ushered in without undo fanfare.

The telephone rings. Listening I struggle to comprehend what is being said. I have bad news. “Yes”, I brace myself. Marcia is here with me. Responding with another “Yes” my body waits for the approaching blow of bad news. What is it I ask? The man that Marcia was dating…there is a pause. What is it I repeat? Marcia is a mess; she can’t speak with you right now. Alright, I am glad she has her big sister to turn to. What happened, I repeat. Thinking I am prepared I hear the words, “Brian is dead.” What? “Brian is dead.” How, when, where?

Sobbing now my head spinning with confusion; what is Marcia doing now I ask? Speaking with a councilor and friend her sister replies. That is good, perhaps she will be the guardian angel to guide Marcia through this one; this is heavy, big, really big. Crying for Brian, for my daughter, for memories of a similar phone call in my past; all are mixed together now. I am unsure of the exact reason for my sobbing and tears yet it is unstoppable. The shock of the news has me reeling.

The police cars were seen by a neighbor and Marcia was telephoned and told of Brian’s body being removed from his apartment. Marcia confronted with this shocking fact telephones the police to confirm that Brian is dead and they tell her yes.

The stories he told her of a deceased wife and his grief over her loss are now questioned. Our daughter does not know what to believe, how could she have known this day would come. She is devastated.

After some phone calls she receives she learns that he has a living wife although they have been separated for two years. Brian suffered from depression and often fabricated stories to embellish his life. Our daughter is at a loss, not knowing what is true and what is not. They had been looking at real estate, planning a life. A future that now she believes was built on lies.

The councilor leaves and my daughter is given a sedative to induce sleep. I have had most of this day to grasp the reality of this bizarre situation.

I am informed Marcia has a doctor’s appointment this evening at 4:45 I ask if it is routine and another pause is heard on the phone line. After a moment of hesitation her sister, a nurse, tells me they are running tests because how many lies were told is unknown. The doctor wants to protect as much as possible our beautiful daughter from contagious harm; another assault on my parental concerns.
It is early evening now; I await the arrival of my husband so that I can break this horrid news.

Writing this is my outlet yet as I fill each page it seems less real, bizarre, like a movie thriller. I tell myself this is real, this is happening, this is real drama. Who the hell needs to read those escape books sitting on my desk. I am living this one out, unable to turn the page or peek at the end for a happy ending. I must wait and pray and hope and pray some more until we know some answers.

The only good that comes from any tragedy is the strengthening of family bonds. We gather and see our daughter placed upon her sisters’ couch appearing lifeless herself, not moving, not speaking; she barely fills the clothes that cover her body. She has been completely emptied.

Her father sits alongside her holding her hand in a silent vigil. I sit at her feet gently stroking her and I feel myself being depleted of energies; after several hours of just being there my need to return home is strong. So much pain and confusion and I feel useless, without capability to help this injured part of my being, this extension of myself, this daughter that resembles a dish rag thrown upon her sisters couch.

It is Friday:
Our daughter decides to go to work. Thinking she will be fine for it is only a half day and she can touch base with co-workers. There are only so many times you can say yes, I’m alright before the truth breaks through the faux exterior.

Leaving work she is pulled over by a police officer for turning right on a red light. This process is the last straw for her day and she melts into tears babbling of her distress; telling the officer of her last few days of phone calls, police presence, and a boyfriend that now lies in the coroner’s office waiting an autopsy to determine the cause of his death. She tells the inexperienced officer of her boyfriend’s unexpected death. The young officer exclaims “I’m not arresting you, this is only a moving violation,” he states in disbelief at her level of distress. He issues a warning and allows her to leave.

Returning to her sister’s home she cries herself to sleep, once again lost within the darkness of shock and grief.

Our daughter has many friends that we do not know; fortunately they telephone her leaving messages of support. She speaks briefly thanking each of them for the call even that is a monumental effort on her part. This part of the story has taken place during Wednesday January 3, 2007 through Sunday January 7, 2007.

Monday January 8, 2007
I have telephoned my daughter Marcia, she sounds strong, prepared to start her work week. She mentions Brian’s sister plans something for the services. She states she hopes it is a closed casket, for she has no need to see him again.

I telephone my son and he speaks with his father while I tend to personal morning chores.

Once again I make a phone call to Caroline our eldest daughter. With Caroline I confirm that Marcia returned to her personal living space in Burlington. She states that Marcia decided it was time to resume her normal routine and schedule. The three nieces, her sister and brother in-law urge her to remain with them. There is some discussion of timing and this leaving process; yet Marcia perseveres and leaves. Having stayed for five days she feels she should not over stay her welcome. Once her strength is renewed her innate desire for privacy and personal space are the driving force in her life.

Everyone seems to have shifted into the passing lane of life. I am attempting to sort my emotional fallout. Why has this tragedy hit me so hard? My relationship with Brian was really non-existent. I had seen photos on my daughter’s cell phone. The ones she chose to share with me; allowing me a glimpse of her new partner. I spent Thanksgiving Day with him at our son’s house. That’s it; just a small moment of his being came into my life. I now feel a measure of distress that he has taken his life and somehow everyone about me moves along shifting into a new gear; finding rational excuses to avoid the emptiness, the space, the void that Brian’s action has left. I long to disengage myself emotionally, yet I feel held in this place of sorrow and confusion; as if by staying here for a while longer I could understand his pain, his lonely soul that made him think he had no where to go but escape from this world.

The last few days have given me insight into Brian’s life. He was one of ten children. His mother verbally abusive, he felt forced to leave home at an early age to escape. He joined the navy and was stationed in Singapore. It was there he met his first wife, tragically killed in an automobile accident while pregnant. The memory of that event tortures him for his life. What our daughter didn’t know was that he married a second time and was legally separated. She did not know that Brian suffered from depression and when his sisters did not hear from him for over a week, they were concerned. Marcia did not know that he needed medication for his depression or that he stopped taking it from time to time. These pieces of information were given to our daughter by Brian’s sister. He apparently was close to her and had mentioned Marcia to her.

It is 9:00 pm Marcia telephones us. She has made it through her work day; survived yet tired she says. Brian has had the autopsy performed and will be cremated tomorrow. They will send further testing to toxicology and the results may not be known for six months. (?) That seems a very long time to wait for news to process some sort of closure on this startling event of Brian’s demise. Brian’s oldest sister, name unknown to me, is the person providing Marcia with these morsels of information. Without her input I am unable to imagine how our daughter’s mind could begin to process this shocking sudden loss.

Tuesday:
It is 10:50 Tuesday morning; I have spoken with my daughter telephoning her at 7:30 in the morning. She sounded tired but going through the motions of preparing for her work day. Listening to my crackling voice that expresses laryngitis and my overall state of health, I apologize for not being able to have her for supper tonight. Quickly she responds, letting me know she has an invitation from a work friend as well as from her sister. I am relieved to know she will not be alone today.

Cremation is relatively new and not a widely accepted practice; yet, it is becoming a more popular choice for individuals to make; aside from the standard burial procedure. Although our daughter Marcia has no desire to see Brian again, in my heart, I believe the absence of a visual last goodbye makes acceptance more difficult, too abstract.

I log onto my computer and people I have never met “blogger friends” have left me inspiring messages and I feel blessed.

My husband is cook, chief and bottle washer for the last three days as I cling to the bed enveloped in cough and interrupted sleep. I tell him his cooking skills are improving; laughing he says “you must have been really hungry.”

With a squeaky voice I telephone the plumber due to a malfunction of our furnace. Apologizing for the vocal chords displayed in my uncontrollable sound pattern, he tells me “I’ll be there soon.”

Feeling a minimal burst of energy I attempt to remove Christmas lights from the house windows before it has become time to celebrate Valentine’s Day! Thank God our tree is tiny this year for one string of lights and a bag full of unwrapped ornaments now adorns the hallway floor. I am pleased they are at least out of the windows and off the porch. Back to bed this lack of energy is feeling quite annoying.

My husband rescues me to vacuum and clean up fallen pine needles from a tree still standing in a puddle of water it refused to drink.

It is now 1:30 in the afternoon. I have been offering silent prayers all morning for Brian. Suddenly, I announce to my husband “Brian has been cremated, it is done. I do not know why but I feel it.” I pray that our daughter is too busy at work to be aware of the time, the day, the happening. I long for her to be submerged in business practices that allow her no time to think.

1:54
The doorbell rings and the plumber has arrived to check the furnace. I might be upset by the unexpected expenditure and I might be upset by two lost days of pay due to this virus, but I am not. If Brian had a lesson to teach me it was the true insignificance of all my worries.

I am loved by my husband. I have four adult children that I am very proud to acknowledge. I have five grandchildren and one on the way that I love deeply. My life is good; not without problems, challenges or disappointments, but it is good.

Wow, we are not in the proper work force. The plumber, knowing what to do corrected the problem in a very short time and the fee is $175.00 Silly me, I’m still not upset, just pleased that we have a knowledgeable technician who responds in a reasonable time. He is worth his weight in gold.

3:03
After a snack, I remain lounging on top of the bed while my husband removes the Christmas tree; once again to be re-united with the earth from whence it came. The circle of life; I ponder this ordinary task with deeper symbolism held for me today.

I hope this is not getting too gloomy for my readers. On a positive note: the sun shines, the day is mild for January, and I listen to the birds happily partaking of newly purchased seed. Voices carry from outside as children return from school. It is in every sense an ordinary day. Life continues.

Funny that high school question just popped into my head: “If a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear, is there still sound?” That may seem unrelated to this day yet I spoke of the sounds about me and ordinary tasks being done, birds singing, children speaking. I thought of that tree question as a separate event unknown to others. Too deep I guess for me to attempt to explain. I’ll move along now, but if you are puzzled, the tree and Brian seemed the same. Enough said.

6:45pm
The telephone rings. Our eldest daughter informs me a notice has been put in the local newspaper of Brian’s death. Loving husband of… it reads.
Understandably our daughter Marcia who has been dating Brian is angry. Too much anger at this time for me to explain the process of questions asked over the phone from a newspaper reporter enabling them to write the obituary.

I tell my eldest that we know the truth that things are written to comfort the family members already shocked by his sudden death. Afterwards, I say to my husband “There isn’t even truth within a death notice!” It makes me wonder about the news in general, about truth in penmanship, about honesty in reporting. Yet I believe simple generic questions were asked and the workers at the newspaper wrote what they felt was a true reflection of Brian’s status.

Our daughter; however, is hurt and angry. Perhaps anger is the fire that will drive her beyond the pain of loss and anonymity. Beyond any thoughts of what would have been for her and Brian.

My husband asks if he should buy a copy of the paper for the notice and I reply, yes. Each scrap of information that we gather is helpful even if at this stage it creates pain or anger. It is necessary and vitally important in helping us to process this event.

I telephone Marcia again and remind her that we love her and will do whatever we can to help her. Then I telephone my eldest daughter, Caroline, our granddaughter answers the phone and does not recognize my voice. I have been talking too much with a case of laryngitis. She laughs at the sounds I make uttering normal phrases in high-low tones that are nothing more than comical. It is good to hear her laugh and I attempt to laugh as well sounding quite peculiar. Often it is healthy to be able to laugh at ourselves; too often we take everything in life serious, mellow dramatic. Brian has reminded me of that “Don’t be so serious Pauline” life is short, laugh and enjoy every single moment!

I must have slept through Wednesday. Between the cold virus and emotional exhaustion I was depleted of energy.

It is Thursday 1:25
Telephone calls have been back and forth between our daughters and their parents. My son is upset with me due to the fact I sent him an e-mail requesting photos that had been taken on Thanksgiving Day. He cannot understand why I want any pictures of Brian. What I really needed was to see our daughter Marcia smiling and Brian smiling. The two of them lit-up with happiness and dreams. The photographs allow me to see it was real, not something imagined by me.

I sent him another e-mail telling him of my experiences with sudden unexplained deaths; my brother at nineteen in a motorcycle accident, the following year my Uncle Paul like Brian chose to take his own life. These events are painful and not talked about in a family. Everyone is forced to cope in their own way. Unlike today, there were no social workers to run toward families providing council, comfort or aid. We just muddled through numb, robotic, and confused until enough time elapsed and we could speak of the events in some way.

This evening will be the wake and prayer service. Marcia telephoned me this morning to apologize for snapping at me. In no uncertain terms I stated “You have nothing to apologize to me for.” How can I tell her I understand that whatever she needs me to do, I will? I say the words but they seem to lack my strong desire. She tells me to stop trying to make her feel better. I shift gears to add levity, “I’m not saying anything here to make you feel better. It’s all about me Missy.” She laughs softly in spite of her sorrow and I am grateful to provide some brief relief from her pain and suffering.

Thursday continued:
My son returned my telephone call. He told me there is a guest book on line. The new age of technology, now even condolences can be written form the comfort of one’s home or office chair, no need to deal with birth or death personally. Lovely and yet sad to have the ability to write a note on line and to have the absence of person to person contact when this family has already felt the cold finger of separation between life and death.

Brian
Our lives touched briefly
Just for a moment in time
We shared conversation
With a pleasant ease
Who would have guessed?
That moment, that day would
Be the last
The alpha, the omega
Who would have guessed?
Not you, not I
Searching for reasons to help
Me understand
What life lesson did you?
Have to share
Did I pay attention?
Did I miss an opportunity that day?
When you were sent
For me to learn
For me to see
For me to hear
In that brief moment of one shared day.

Written by Pauline 1-11-07 ©

The service was held for Brian and I am so very pleased that we were all in attendance. Lovely photographs represented his life, childhood pictures one couldn’t help but smile; a young man proud in Navy uniform; a brother, an uncle loved and smiled upon.

The priest spoke in a tender voice of military service; one chaplain, one recreation officer both placed in a foreign land, working together for the boys so far from home. The priest told us of his work with Brian creating a schedule that would bring both recreation and faith services together, rather than in collision. He knew Brian and his comments were genuine, moving, opening a view into fifteen years of military naval service.

Mother, step-father, sisters, and a nephew were met by me in the standard grieving line of farewell.

No photographs of his (loving wife) nor was she mentioned at all by the priest. “This difficult time he remarked, will be experienced by each person in this room. You are here because in some way Brian touched your life. Between tears and sadness remember the joy of knowing Brian and fill your moments not with denial but with gratitude for those moments shared.”

We left feeling uplifted. Our eldest daughter had everyone back to the house for coffee, tea and muffins. It was a wonderful bonding of our family. We were together not out of a perceived duty, but by choice to support each other and to stand firmly for our daughter in her time of loss.

It is Friday:
A very long week has come to an end. I think I understand Brian’s gift to our daughter Marcia these last few months they shared. He learned her sadness and her doubts. I now believe he chose to give her joy, dreams, love and he didn’t plan or could not have known that he would leave her quickly. In future days I think she will recall the laughter that he shared, the gift of hope for new beginnings. The beauty of this world revealed through loves gentle eyes that they would share if only for a short whisper of time. She will have been reminded of the enormity of love and that no matter where you go in life family is the rock you fall back upon to anchor and faith the ship that carries us through difficult seas with storms that brew so unexpectedly.

With tender thoughts of Brian, for our daughter Marcia and for a thank you to our Lord for allowing me to witness the rock of family, the faith of our ship that held us safe throughout this turbulent journey.

Notes:
He jogged and lifted weights. He dyed his hair blonde to cover the grey. He was very close to his eldest sister named Caroline. Marcia’s eldest sister is also named Caroline. He attempted to kill himself once before and was rescued. He was in a car accident and they pumped his stomach, he had overdosed on Tylenol. He spoke of our daughter with his sister Caroline and she telephones Marcia giving her bits of information; she wants to meet out daughter. I feel this is good, a window of information opening.

January 17th Wednesday:
Some quiet heavy emptiness lingers about me this day. The initial stage of shock has begun to wear away. Brian’s absence becomes more real. The void he has created for our daughter wider I fear. These could be my own feelings; perhaps she is still in shock, frozen in time to feel no pain or loss.

9:00 p.m.
Marcia phones me she sounds drained of all energies, her voice heavy and slow. She met with Brian’s sister Caroline and they spoke for an hour and a half. Brian told his sister the same things he had told Marcia. The death certificate states cause unknown. Three months for the toxicology report.

January 18th Thursday 7:30p.m.
I telephone Marcia and ask if she slept O.K. with no hesitation she tells me yes. I tell her it was a difficult nights rest for me; I kept waking and looking at the clock every few hours. Then she admits that she woke at 3:00 a.m. I laugh attempting to keep the conversation light, “Why do we always take notice of the time? You would think we had to document everything.”

January 22 Monday:
Daily telephone calls bounce back and forth between mother, father and daughter. This feels so comforting to hear her voice. New plans mentioned, dreams spoken, life continues, life goes on.

January 19th Friday:
My husband joins me in a prayer service this evening; we offer our intentions for Brian. It is spiritually moving. In the midst of the service and the priest speaking, I suddenly realize my anger at Brian for the turmoil our family has experienced. My anger surprises me and God’s grace allows me to acknowledge it, accept it and release it with forgiveness.

I felt so good offering this service for Brian’s soul and I myself have been set free from problems that fester within and wreck havoc with body, mind and soul. I cry at my own release of anger, sorrow, and letting go. I release Brian and forgive him; I tell him so. I am aware of calmness within.

Saturday January 20th
I telephone our son; he sounds hurt and holding back from speaking freely. I mention the wonderful church service and he quips, I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” With a cold tone that saddens me. Then I tell him of my anger that was suppressed and our conversation begins. We share and my heart is lighter. After thirty-five minutes he ends the call, but we have been joined in mind and spirit and I thank God.

Saturday January 28th
Each morning routine includes a phone call to our daughter, Marcia, before she leaves for her work day. Outward appearances of our lives seem to have moved along into normal routines; our emotions lie beneath the surface of our being. We share them in an attempt to accept each event or sensation of the grieving process.

This morning I awoke at 7:15 I was confused, as my dream was incredibly realistic. Marcia and Brian were sitting opposite me at a large dining table, not a room that I had visited before. I was aware of my mother’s presence in the next room. I felt, in the dream, as though we were all together visiting. Then as I watched Brian and Marcia kissed. I sat there as an observer. There was great tenderness and commitment with his kiss. Awakening I paused to re-run my image in an effort of determining whether dream or reality. This was difficult for a moment for as I stated. The image was very vivid. Tears filled my eyes with the knowledge that it was a dream. Questions of what the dream meant started to fill me with concerns. Several possible answers ran about my mind; yet, I feel content with the message of love, truth, tenderness and commitment that was delivered and witnessed by me through this dream state.

We are still uninformed as to the cause of Brian’s death. Today, I have no questions as to his love or intentions for our daughter Marcia.

February 4th
Our daughter has gone on a retreat this weekend. We pray she finds peace and God’s guiding hand. We are so blessed that we have our faith to lean upon; for often in life it is the wall upon which we lean in order to catch our breath,” Thank you Lord for this gift of faith and its unfathomable well of strength.” Brian remains in our prayers and remembrances.
February 9th
Our daughter meets another of Brian’s sisters, her name is Serena. Oddly enough from ten children in his family he is closest to these two sisters who bear the same names of our own daughter’s siblings Caroline and Serena. Marcia has not spoken of this meeting except to say that Serena posted a non-traditional memorial in the local paper. This sister confirmed an unhappy childhood and stated her absence from the family for over thirty years. Each word is a tiny dot to be connected in Brian’s life story that enables us to process the deep sadness he experienced.

February 15
Our son telephones to chat, stating his concerns for his sister Marcia and her lack of response to his invitation to visit him. A free home cooked meal usually is enticement enough to bring any of us to his doorstep. I listen intently realizing I have placed my focus unintentionally upon my daughters. We have galvanized to support Marcia with daily phone calls fearing her innate ability to claim privacy, thus shutting us off from any knowledge of her state of well being. Our son has been ignored and his grief and concern is very deep for his sister’s situation in life. I let him speak with need to empty himself and it was lengthy.

I am left with the realization of emotional impact upon our family, and it is not over. We need more time, how much is an individual, personal process. Time and prayer and space are necessary for healing the emotional wounds we each carry from this recent event. Time and prayer are the only means to peace, acceptance and some understanding of this complex spiral effect of emotional distress caste upon our family.

In the midst of reading my journal this morning our eldest daughter phones to speak of baby shower plans. I muffle tears and shaky voice that occurred from my reading. Listening to her I am brought back to a happy place in our family life, new growth, new addition, and new life to embrace.

These things have not come without sacrifice; choices were made long ago to place our children first above career and worldly possessions. We chose to be a family in spirit and my husband and I have no regrets.

Thank you Lord for allowing us this marvelous gift of family strength and bonds, for this is our secret treasure, unseen by the world for it carries no price tag to impress others, yet it fills our hearts with all good things.

February 14th Wednesday
I paused to read from an inspirational book and these words met my eyes:
My eternal foundation is family. Loving families lay the foundation for our eternal progress. They help us build strength, identity and overcome weaknesses, and bring challenges of their own to overcome. They significantly influence us in our earthly missions and affect how we influence others in their missions. Every family bond…can play a crucial role in teaching us how to love and be loved.
Father, thank you for the love I receive from my family and friends. Thank you also for the reassurance that the challenges they bring me can also bless if I chose to use them that way. Help me to support my loved ones in their earthly missions, even as they provide the experiences I need to accomplish mine.
Affirmation: I acknowledge that earthly bonds fulfill heavenly promises, and I am grateful for the family God has given me. The book author is Betty J. Eadie prayers and devotions for daily living. He left the oxen, and ran after Elijah, and said, let me, I pray thee, kiss my father and my mother, and then I will follow thee…1 Kings 19:20

February 16th Friday
Yesterday I sent an e-mail to Marcia. She is planning to move yet again. I listed nine reasons for her to stay where she is. This is Sunday and I have not spoken with her since. She could be enjoying life, or just giving me the cold shoulder (?)

We attended service this evening and I offered it up for guidance in her life decisions. I cannot do anything else but pray and put the reins in God’s hands, where of course, they have always belonged. I need to worry less, pray more and be patient and steadfast. Brian was in my prayers as well.

February 19th Monday:
Today is a holiday, no work outside the home. This morning I seized the opportunity of spare time to finally pack away Christmas decorations. It has only been six weeks since the season ended!

My days have been full. Marcia is a day to day check for my peace of mind. Our youngest daughter is expecting her first child and Dad and I have tried to help out whenever we feel or observe some extra hands are needed.

Family commitments have been full range and time seems to have just slipped away. Chores around the house wait for little elves that never appear. Work hours have increased for me; taking a second part-time office position. In between I try to write as this gives me great pleasure. Prayer services have been increased as well, for with so much going on where else can we turn but to prayer for consolation and strength.

February 20th Tuesday
Another morning with no phone contact from Marcia; I think it is safe to assume she has taken offense from my e-mail sent on last Friday. I am very frustrated today. She has the ability to cut people off so easily and I form emotional attachments that never seem to be broken even after death. In dreams people bring messages to me from beyond, wherever that state of being exists. As I write this I recognize my anger that Marcia could turn on me so quickly. She is however, exhibiting her well established behavior of love em and leave em! Some tension has been released through these words and accompanied tears that fall upon my written page. Now, into the shower to “restart” this day!

February 25th Sunday:
Unable to suppress my displeasure any longer, I telephone Marcia. Do I not always reach out? Her voice mail kicked in and I said “It has been nine days since I have spoken with you, in case you forgot my number is 761-982-9804. Hope all is well. She phoned back within five minutes, her telephone number displayed on the caller ID but I did not answer for fear of what might be said. Her message left was “Hello Mother, its 12:30 and I did have you on my to-do list today so I’ll cross it off that we did touch base. I’m going out with a friend to look at apartments and condos, will talk with you soon. It was the voice of a stranger, unconnected to me. Reluctantly I heard smugness in her voice seeming somehow pleased she was aware of causing me discomfort; her Scorpio sting experienced by my soft shell once again. More tears for a lost cause were shed. I am such a push-over when it comes to my children.

Jason and I took a walk along the beach with the dog. It was a lovely warm sunny day and the air was salt fresh and crisp. For a few hours I did not think of my daughter’s ability to hurt me so deeply.

Cleaning house I came across Brian’s photograph. God bless him, may he rest in peace and find happiness that he longed for. Looking at the picture I said to my husband,” We
will never know Brian’s true life story.”

I need a vacation to rejuvenate myself. Hopefully, before or after the baby shower some mini escape can be taken, it is desperately needed not in the category of a luxury.

February 27th Tuesday:
After reading last evening information about letting go, I offered my Marcia to the Lord’s care. I asked for strength to release my human motherly hold and turn over events to His higher authority. A sense of release was experienced.

February 28th, Wednesday
Marcia broke down and telephoned me and we chatted as though nothing had transpired. We spoke of her sister’s baby shower, her roommate, her searching for a new residence, auto repairs, work schedules; we talked and talked.
To let go is to let god and my tears this morning are of gratitude for his almighty intervention. The door of communication has been unlocked and with joyful tears I say Amen and Thank you.
I guess this dialog could continue for weeks and months to come, yet I feel it is time to let you my reader go, for that is the valuable lesson I have learned in the last twenty-four hours to let go and let God. May His presence be always in your life to comfort and guide you. May He always be attentive to your prayers for guidance, comfort and gratitude. May we remember Him in good times as well as when we are in need. God Bless us all.

I will close with another passage from Betty J. Eadie, for it is today’s reading:
I Learn Through Free Will
Freedom of choice is precious, and our individual agency may be the most precious gift we have from God next to life itself…In heaven, free will was gifted to all who would come here, and we willingly accepted it for ourselves and granted it to others. We desired it as a responsibility and a challenge for our lives on earth. We asked God for the right to make mistakes, even to sin or to break spiritual laws so that we might learn. We desired to live with the consequences of our mistakes so that we could be driven from within to revise our lives.
Father, in your wisdom you endowed me with everything I need to make the most of this life, including free will, Thank you for my freedom and for the responsibility that comes with it. Help me use it wisely. Bless me with the patience and love I need to respect the choices of others.

Written by Pauline February 28th, 2007 ©
This is a factual account of depression and suicide. All names have been changed to protect the privacy of the injured participants in this journey.