Feeling half of myself is gone
by Jennifer Leibold
My husband committed suicide on July 29th 2014. I found him hanging in our bedroom closet early in the morning. I can't get that picture out of my mind and try to forget it. I keep more pics around than ever to see with my eyes and not my mind. He was a very depressed man. I was trying to get him help, but the help came literally a day to late. He was a functioning addict. He did his best to be the best he could be. To me he was perfect except that one flaw. He was not using at the time and had used nothing hard in 8 years. The pain of wasted time, his age, regret, guilt.... it was bigger in his mind than mine. I always forgave him. He partied to much, he drowned out pain from his childhood. He did not cheat in over 20 years. He spent to much money until he gave me control to control himself. He diapered sometimes early in the marriage on a binge. He worked everyday hard. He loved his kids. He loved God. He loved me with all his heart. He played and wrote beautiful music and poetry. He struggled so hard year after year trying to be totally free. He only used weed in the end. The newer more potent weed that can amplify and already paranoid or depressed state of mind. I felt something was wrong. I tried to get him to his family in Florida for a break. He would of had a ticket in s few days. I thought it was just deep depression I had seen before. I had no idea he was so confused. The trouble is I saw him sitting in the living room that morning when I woke up. He looked distant and sadder than ever.We had started writing our feelings and thoughts in a journal to come back to later so I let him be. We would write, the other would read and answer. We would go over the things later verbally after we thought on it a while. Before I would of bombarded him with questions and made him talk. I did not, I let him think. I saw the book was moved and he said read it after I go to bed, because he worked third shift. He went to bed and I read it. I only remember him saying he felt hopeless. I thought it said something other than it did. I skimmed the note I think with it being so early in the morning. I went back to the room and he was laying in bed. I was going to hug him like every morning, but he looked asleep. Just in case he was awake I said we will talk later and your not hopeless. I went back in the kitchen and started the morning dishes and looking up a school for myself online. I never finished high school and now that my kids are older I figured it was time. I was so exited to tell him. All of the sudden I had strange pics in my mind something pulling me to the room. I went to the room and did not see him in bed. I ran around the house thinking how did he get by me. I went back in the room and saw what looked to be a shoe hanging out of the closet. I looked closer and it was a foot. I figured he may be sitting there. I walked around the door and looked in. I knew right away he was dead. I screamed and ran around. I looked for scissors to cut him down and got a knife. The knife did not work and I finally found scissors. He dropped to the floor. I could not breath and I tried to pic him up, but could not. In my confusion I called my then 17 year old son down while screaming he is dead. He ran down looked at his dad and somehow within a minute had locked the dog in his room and told his 15 year old autistic brother to stay in his room no matter what. He came down and pulled him out of the closet. I yelled get my phone. This was all happening within minutes. I started CPR on a man that somewhere in me was gone, in the hope I was wrong. I was yelling at the women on the phone in between breaths to get somebody here now. 15 mins later it seemed the whole force was here. My son was doing compressions as fawl stuff came up from my husbands lungs and got on me. The paramedics and cops kicked me out of the room. They did not even try to do anything. I sat in the living room talking for over an hour before they came out of the room. They came out and said we are sorry, but he is gone. No tears why??? I cried while he was in the closet and on the floor. All my boys held back their tears. They seemed very shocked. I had to call the one home from his friends and tell him what happened. He begged to go back so I let him. None of them cried until the funeral. I cried and screamed at, God, him, myself off and on. I have not slept in the room since, but the boys have. I put his clothes in duffel bags weeks later and changed the room around just so I could be in there at all. I put a memorial in the place he died and put his urn in a cabinet in the dining room with some of his special things in it. Glasses, watches, birth certificate, License, ss card, marriage license,ect.... plus his magic cards, pictures, poems, favorite funny t shirts, and other things. I keep a light on him all the time. I kiss his urn good night. The family is no help to me. His mother was heard calling him selfish at my house the day he died, but she stopped for a bite to eat on her way here. The mom who let him be abused and abused him, left him on his grandmas doorstep as a very little boy. The one who repeatedly got financial help from he constantly working to support his family son. SELFISH??? Freedom!!!!! Little sis is a pain in the butt acting like drugs would of helped. If she had just been around she could of fixed that kind of pain with more of what caused his depression. I payed for the funeral myself with no offers for help. His mom was flirting with he ex in front of he husband at the funeral.....which her many destructive marriages helped set my husband on his painful path. His family except his older brother did not hug me or my boys yet their children did. Yet they say they love us.His little sis brought a hoard of drug dealers and addicts to the funeral. Most looked like they had just done stuff in the parking lot. In my husbands family fashion they say nothing, but tell me so I can say something. So his sis is at the casket and yells he would not of worn that. It was a Dolphins football t under his purple dress shirt with a matching tie. You could not see the t shirt. I just wanted him cremated with it. A Miami *urricanes hat, my wedding band, his grandpas shoes, his favorite pants his brother gave him. What she did not understand is he had to be fully covered up to his chin. He was also a donor so no skin, but face and hands were showing. That was the hardest part going down the list of things I had to give permission for them to take from my husband. The writing him off of everything. The living with him everyday and never giving up, when others never began to try. The funeral was beautiful. People learned alot about my husband and judgement. Man family did, but his not so much. No calls no visits, no nothing... a little note on *acebook from time to time. I gave them all one thing even though he did not have very many things. We have family things. I made them all poetry books out of his poems and songs, i gave him a beautiful funeral that everyone had a chance to express themselves in song, poem, word, ect. Now I am making beautiful wreaths out of some of his cloths. I think on them and they think of themselves. Not to count this all takes money. That was one of his problems he needed his mom and his dad. He cried out to them about his struggle inside, but according to them he was a big boy they had done their job. They never did their job they destroyed him. He gave them money. He never turned them down. He had one flaw addiction and was still able to be a good person. Yes he had his moments, but to me he was the best. He was perfect except for the self medicating. This is so hard and I don't know where to start. I have done some, but my wingman Is gone.