That is a very sad story Frank. I can't think of anything to say. Thank you for sharing it with us. It must have been very hard for you and your wife to go on after that.
I have never experienced a suicide in my family and can't imagine the emotions I would feel if I had. During my years as a Psychotherapist I did have one patient though I never actually saw him, we spoke on the phone several times, but each time he made an appointment to see me, he would cancel it at the last minute. I had learned through talking to him, that he had in his words never felt or expressed emotions, but that is all I knew. A few days after our last phone conversation I received a phone call from a relative saying he had committed suicide, and I was the last number he had called before doing it. I was shocked but reasoned that I had done all that I could have all things considered. Although this was back in the early '90s I still remember him from time to time, and wondered what else I could have done.
I'd forgotten about this until reading @Chrissy Page's post. When I was in school, one of the popular couples broke up. The boy called and told the girl he was going to shoot himself if she didn't take him back. She said it was over, and he shot himself. It's sad when someone doesn't seem to understand the finality of the act. She was obviously emotionally devastated for a long time afterwards. That's a lot to deal with @Frank Sanoica. They are fortunate to have had y'all to take them in. I supposed it's at least good that he confessed ahead of time, so the details were known. It can be very painful for families that have to go through extended investigations and sometimes ultimately never know what actually happened. Not knowing why would be just as bad, though, and I hope they were able to get beyond the loss eventually. No doubt seeing that was traumatizing for you, as well.
The Aftermath Fall, of 1967, after having been occupationally-deferred from the Draft for a number of years, before turning 26, the cut-off age, I got the Notice to Appear for Armed Forces Physical Examination, scheduled some time in December. We had no kids previously, but in October adopted Rick and Diane. I appeared before the Local Draft Board to ask for further deferment; they erupted in chaos when I explained. The suicide had taken place across the street from the Post Office, the Board meeting place. One woman on the board nearly fainted remembering the newspaper accounts. I was re-classified to 2-A. Surely I would have gone off to Viet Nam, had my father in law not caused this mayhem, but he might also have saved my life! In November, Rick revealed to us he had been having bloody stools. The Dr. diagnosed ulcerative colitis, after hearing of the traumatic event in the boy's life, and recommended we take him to Cook County Hospital, as no medical coverage existed. He went in on Nov. 28, his 17th. birthday, had many ups and downs, nearly succumbing at one point, but got better, and was released March 31, after 4 months. During ensuing years, he had relapses, not requiring hospitalization, but in 1975, late Fall, he was very sick, and we hospitalized him on November 26, a Wednesday, as I recall. Friday, he died, Nov. 28, his 25th. birthday. Diagnosis, pulmonary embolism. Sue and I separated in 1976, and subsequently got divorced; it was her wish, not mine. Aftermath of a murder-suicide. Edit: I should add, we, the four of us, as a new family unit, quickly felt the stigma of being suicide surviving family members: friends and family (mine mostly, Sue had little) noticeably shunned contact with us. Strangely, after we left the Chicago area, my younger nephew, always trusted by us, and close, revealed we were often ostracized and spoken negatively of, by my own family members, but not my Mother. My Dad had died in Apr. '72, before we moved out West.
I had been widely distanced from my sister, 12 years my senior, for many years. Her firstborn, when I was 5, made me an uncle, and Dan & I grew up together those first years, his dad departed back to Pennsylvania, my sister working daily (at 17 or 18), and my Mother dealing with a 6-7 year old ball of fire, and a 1-2 year old following in his footsteps! We were as brothers, Dan & I. Thus, it seemed only natural that, 20+ years later we should enter into a business venture together. Idea failed, the years kept passing by, and in 1999, when I was 57, Dan 52, we "coalesced" to buy a retirement property where we could enjoy our remaining time together. He then lived in Kansas, I was in Phoenix. Two years earlier, his wife, who had been unable to remain in Vegas with us, walked out on the eve of their 25th. anniversary. He was devastated. Now, he agreed, we should live "outside the grid-box", and we bought a 300 acre place in the MO Ozarks. Plan was he would take 1/3, we 1/3, and our neighbor from Phoenix 1/3. Beautiful place, year-round crystal-clear stream flowing across it. But, Dan met and married a lady who assured him she would be happy to live in the wilds there, along with us, and after 6b weeks, she announced she would not stay. They moved back to Kansas! The second time, in a lifetime, that the most-trusted, most-revered nephew had caved in to demands that his desires be squelched. They left MO for Kansas, just as he had left NV for CA, almost 30 years earlier. I was the cat holding the bag, second time!
Thank you for sharing all this with us Frank. I can imagine how it made it hard for you and your wife to go on. This is something you will never get over. How is she now or do you know? I hope she's OK.
When I was 17 years old my Doctor told me I would probably never have any children from my own body because of the problems I had with my reproductive organs. This was devastating to me as I could not imagine my life without my own children. After getting through the shock of this news...I decided that the God I believed in knew my heart about children and I was just going to trust and have faith that He would provide for the need in me to be a Mother. At 24 I married a widow with a son almost 8 years old. One day I was resting in our bed and all of a sudden I heard the sweetest word I will ever hear...Moma? My stepson had been talking with his dad and asking him what he should call me, and my husband told him that it was alright to call me whatever he was comfortable with. A few minutes later my stepson headed down to our master bedroom calling "Moma?"...and from that day God provided my very first child and only son. Later on in my life I was blessed with 3 daughters from my own womb. My "son" grew up, married, and had a son and daughter of his own...and I thought he would live happily ever happy. We weren't able to keep in touch as often when he and his family moved a few states away but he was still my first child and always would be. His birth mom had struggled with some mental issues before she died and as my son got older he started struggling with some mental issues of his own. I wasn't aware of this as his wife and I didn't keep in touch as much and my son never confided in me that he was having problems. One day out of the blue, I received a call that no mother ever wants to receive. My son had taken an overdose of alcohol and pills and died. I still to this day wish there was some way I could have known how he was struggling in his mind. Maybe there could have been something I could have done...or maybe not. Every time I see his son and daughter I think what a tragedy it is that they don't have their dad with them anymore. I am thankful for the time I had with my son and so sorry his young life ended so in such a tragic way.
@Linda Binning : Sue and I kept in touch over the years, seeing each other several times, once with my 2nd. wife, when we were in Vegas.Sue remained there all these years, having worked as a cosmetologist, she started at the Mirage Hotel the day it opened, new management took it over and laid her off. She then took early retirement. I called her two years ago, and for the first time, the conversation went badly, why, I don't know. I suspected she was perhaps ill and would not discuss it. Next month, April 23, will mark her 70th. birthday, if she's alive..... Her sister, Diane, is a whole 'nother story. Briefly, Diane also remained in Vegas, she was 16 when we three moved there. Perhaps 30 years ago, thinking their family name, Ozimek, would disappear, she arranged to get pregnant and had a son. The son in early adulthood grew away from Diane, preferring spending time with Aunt Sue. This caused a rift which resulted in the sisters not speaking for years. Two years ago, I sought to get Diane's phone number, but Sue refused to talk about her. And, so it goes. The little girl I adopted in a time of dire stress for us all, is lost to me, her brother dead, her sister's condition unknown.
@Babs Hunt : Painful when memories return, yes, but I find talking seems to assuage that pain, at least for me. Certainly, others who had severe painful experiences and successfully blotted the memories out, would disagree. Perhaps it helps to talk about your son. This is mainly why I chose to reveal the complexity and strange consequences of difficult times in my own life, not seeking solace or sympathy, but rather encouraging others to compare and relate.
I don't know how to explain this @Frank Sanoica...there is still pain, but it's a sweet pain that keeps the love and memory of my first blessing alive in my heart. I have no problem talking about my son...but so many other people seem to be uncomfortable talking about death, especially when it comes by what they consider suicide.