Suicide, The First Moments - Part 6

If you haven't read Parts 1 - 5, you can find them here:

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5

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*WARNING* Parts of this story are quite graphic and may be disturbing to some of you.

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On January 16^th, 1990 I went to work as I did every day. I tried to call “A” before I left work to see if there was anything I needed to pick up on my way home. He didn't answer the phone. I had a moment of panic – a premonition? Where could he be? This was out of character for him. I had the truck which left him on foot. I reasoned with myself, there was no need to panic, he was probably just taking a shower. I left a message on the answering machine for him to call in the next 30 minutes if he needed anything. When I didn't hear from him, I left work and headed home.

To this day, the feelings I had, the things I saw, when I walked through that door remain amazingly vivid. They play back in my mind when I least expect them and, no matter how unwelcome they are. I've tried to push them into the depths of my memory, and still they come. As I walked in the door I said, "Hi honey," and got no response. I glanced into the living room and saw my husband sitting on the floor, his back against the sofa, but slumped forward. My mind saw ketchup on the side of his head. I didn't see the gun until I got closer. I muttered, “'A', that isn't funny! Wipe that ketchup off your head!” He didn't answer. It wasn't ketchup. My husband of 4 months had put a .22 caliber handgun to his right temple and pulled the trigger.

I immediately called 9-1-1 and explained what had happened. They asked that I check to see if he had a pulse, but I was afraid to touch him. I could see his chest moving up and down – I knew he was breathing – why did I need to check his pulse? They insisted and I walked over to him and found his pulse. It was then that I found the suicide note. As I waited on the line for the EMT's to arrive, I started reading the note. It didn't make any sense. There was an apology, random thoughts about being afraid he was going to kill someone and a reference to the demons that lived in his head. I didn't even get through the first paragraph before the EMT's, and the police, were at the door. I put the note down and hung up the phone.

The EMT's moved “A” on his back to put him on a stretcher. He started gasping for air and making strange gurgling sounds. I became hysterical. The police moved me out of the living room and told me I needed to call family so they could meet me at the hospital. I had no idea how I was going to do that. What was I going to say?

I called little brother first. I said, ""I don't know how to tell you this but 'A' shot himself in the head." He wailed “NOOOOOOO!” into the phone. In between both our sobs, I told him which hospital to go to. I was worried about him driving to get there.

My next call was to “A”'s aunt. She was quite calm and told me she would take care of notifying the rest of “A”'s family. I was herded out of the condo and into a police car. I knew I was on my way to the hospital and I knew everything would be alright as soon as I was. What I didn't know was that I would be required to make a stop at the police station before going to the hospital.

A funny thing happens when someone is shot, even if it appears to be self-inflicted. Anyone who has contact with that person is considered a suspect in the shooting. It didn't matter that I knew I was nowhere near him when he pulled the trigger – the police didn't know that and they had to consider I may have shot my husband. Instead of going straight to the hospital, we went straight to the police station. I was required to write out my statement before they would take me to see my husband. I couldn't even think rationally, let alone write anything coherent. To this day I have no idea what my statement said. I just wrote as quickly as I could so that the police would take me where I needed to be.

When I arrived at the hospital, all of “A”'s family was there waiting. They wanted answers – answers I didn't have. Why did he do this? What did the note say? I really didn't know. A doctor came down the hallway and asked us to follow him to a private room. It was there that he told us that the .22 round had gone through “A”'s head, but had bounced around before exiting. He had severe brain damage – damage that he would likely not recover from. He needed to know what I wanted to do. They could operate, removing a blood clot from his brain, and he would probably be able to breathe on his own. I was paralyzed with fear. I didn't know what to do and I asked the doctor for time to think.