June 23, 2016

The 23rd is represented as a tiny square among 29 other squares in my day planner for the month of June.  I know in 2016, few people use day planners.  But I do.  And, I find myself staring at the June 22nd square as if trying to find some indication of the tragic event that would reveal itself the following day.  Yet the contents of that square only serve as a reminder for the Isagenix Headquarters tour ~ an event I was excited about for weeks prior. I had wished Aaron could join me but I knew he would be working his pool route.  That evening, though, I remember telling him in great detail about the tour; what a state-of-the-art building it is and about the Harley Davidson motorcycle that is on display in the lobby, literally smack dab in the middle of a water feature, its two tires and kickstand precariously placed on individual small cement pillars that elevate the entire motorcycle above the water.

The June 23rd square in my calendar is blank.  I clearly remember Aaron asking me that morning what my plans were for the day.  "I have training at 11 at Joe's.  I want to run by the post office and check the mail, and I need to go to the Vet to get a copy of Cinnamon's vaccination records...".  I continued explaining that the place I board the dogs didn't have her current records and we'd need those for when we boarded the dogs for the Tucson trip we had scheduled for July 9th and 10th.  I was seated on the couch drinking my coffee; he was standing in the living room directly in front of me.  All seemed normal.

I wish I would have asked him what his plans were for that day.  I assumed I already knew what they were - he'd go to work and return home to me.  But that's not what happened.   And, little did I know that my plans would be nothing like what I explained to Aaron that very morning.  No. Not only did my plans change for that day but I changed.  I knew I would never be the same person I was...for all the remaining squares on every day planner I'd ever own, I would be forever changed.

Aside from the detectives who interviewed me on Thursday morning, only my therapist and two other people know in grave detail what transpired on the 23rd.  I knew I needed to talk about it.  Lord knows my brain wouldn't stop playing the events over and over and over again in my minds eye.  I hoped saying it aloud might quiet the movie-loop that was playing in my head.  And, I was selective about who would be on the receiving end of such graphic detail.  I sought out friends who are stoic and strong enough in character to allow me to say what I needed to say.  And they listened intently, their eyes welling up with tears as my story drew to an end.

Yes, looking back, Aaron seemed a bit more agitated than usual that morning.  Aaron woke up like he did every morning but indeed he grew more agitated as the minutes passed.

But, I still never saw that coming.

Aaron woke up at 5:00 a.m, right on time like always.  He popped right out of bed like a champ and began his normal routine of getting dressed, loading up the truck with his pool equipment and supplies, downing his bowl of oatmeal and enjoying the cup of coffee I made him that morning.  By 6:15 he should have left the house to meet his dad.  By 6:41 Aaron took his own life.  I was standing right next to him.  He never said goodbye.  I never got a chance to tell him goodbye.  And, all those who love Aaron would never get that chance either.

I know Aaron is at peace and free from the bondage that caused him so much pain. But, knowing this doesn't at all diminish the sheer pain and grief that I feel at every waking moment.  My darkest days which lasted for the good part of two weeks, I believe, are finally behind me.   Now it's just a matter of choosing to breathe when I feel like I can't.  Pretending to be whole in this life while being shattered into a million pieces.  Trying to negotiate the days in spite of my heart having been ripped out of my chest.  So you can imagine what the darkest days were like...

I grieve.  I cry.  I mourn.  I'm in disbelief.  My emotions are a roller coaster.  And, from where I sit now, I don't know how I'll ever feel better.  It doesn't seem possible.  Yet I know it is.  But, I have to choose healing over and over again.  I have to choose to fight for it.  I have to choose to overcome, and I have to choose the light over the darkness.  And, I do.  I choose life.

John 8:12  ~ When Jesus spoke again to the people, he said, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.”