I left my father's apartment, climbed into our suburban and drove the three short blocks back to our home. When I entered the back door I found Honey (Emma's Godmother) and Emma sitting in our kitchen floor. They were fine... if this is what Chris called a total melt down......well he was wrong....... Honey knew how to take control. She came armed with the right ammunition......in one hand she held a package of M&M's and in the other hand she was holding a Diet Coke. If one didn't work the other surely would. "Cathy what happened?" Honey asked. "My father killed himself." I answered. Why mix words with someone who knew me so well. I would need someone in the near future that I could be completely honest with, and I trusted Honey. "I understand how he feels.... please try and forgive him quickly..... he didn't do this to hurt you.... he did this to relieve himself of his own personal hell." She replied. Honey had experienced deep depression, and I do believe she truly understood how an individual could possibly contemplate taking their own life. I had always heard that suicide was the most selfish act a person could undertake, now I knew that statement was true.
I left the two happy campers in the floor and for some odd reason started cleaning house. Why????? I had to stay busy. If I sat down who knows what might happen. As I unpacked the gear from Asheville I dialed the number of my best friend, Brooke, she did not need to hear this news from our church office. "Brooke, it's Cathy, I don't know how to say this, but my father is dead." After speaking these few words I began to cry. "I am on the way." Brooke replied. "No you don't need to come tonight, you have children to get ready for school tomorrow, and get ready for bed, I am fine." I said. "I don't care, I am on the way." Brooke is a firm soul. She arrived within 5 minutes, and I was so happy to see her. Brooke found me in my bedroom. Without words she hugged me the only way a true friend can hug...."How did it happen, please tell me he didn't kill himself." Brooke asked. "I wish I could." I answered. ''Please tell me it was with pills." She asked. "I wish I could." I replied. She asked no more questions.
Honey needed to get back across the street. For the remainder of the evening Brooke took care of Emma while I dealt with the events that were to come. Brooke loaded my dishwasher, fed Emma, cooked for Chris. If it needed to be done she handled it.
Knocks started tapping at my front door. My niece, Jessica, came in first. She buried her head into my shoulder and wept tears of anguish. Directions had not been made clear to her on where we were all to meet, and by accident she went to her grandfather's apartment. She arrived as the police were carrying the gun from the building. She was one person that I would not need to explain the circumstances of dad's death to. She was so angry. Her relationship had not been easy with her grandfather. They respected each other from a distance. "How could he do this to my mother?" She asked. "Baby, I don't know what was going through his mind." I replied. "We will never get answers to these questions." I added.
Ellen, her husband, Robert, and son, William, arrived next. I could not find the courage to tell my sister that Dad had killed himself, but I pulled Robert aside and told him. Ellen was called into our living room by her husband, and I heard the gasp of horror escape from her lips as Robert explained the circumstances that surrounded dad's death. Ellen's son, William, sat motionless in a red leather chair, making eye contact with no one. He was 16 years old and his world had just crumbled on him.
When Liz and her husband, Mac, arrived I knew that her daughter Jessica would bear the responsibility of breaking the news about Dad. "Well that is just perfect." She replied. "He stays away for 8 years of our lives, then waltz's back in for a twenty-four months then pulls a stunt like this." She added. Liz joined William in the living room, picked a chair opposite of him and stared at the floor. By now it had been 3 hours since I found dad dead, the shock was wearing off a bit, but for Liz and Ellen the nightmare had just started.
As a family we all convened in the living room, closed off the door and left Emma to play with Brook in the breakfast area. "We need to be at the funeral home by 11:00 a.m tomorrow. Can you both come with me?" I asked Liz and Ellen. "Yes we will be here in the morning." Liz replied. "I will drive over to Ellen's house and we can ride together." She added. "We need to arrange a service." I stated. "For what, and for who?" Liz asked. Jessica's husband, Jeff piped up "You need closure, you may be very angry right now, but you need closure and sooner than later." He spoke words of wisdom. "We can have a private service in our church chapel Friday evening at 7:00 p.m. if that works for everyone. I will call our church secretary in the morning and make the arrangement." I replied. "Let's get this over with." Ellen responded.
The rest of the evening was spent in quiet solitude ....... low whispers of "What could drive a person to do something so crazy........ what signs did we miss........... how could I have let him down like this....... why.....why......why.......?" No answers would come, and by 10:00 p.m. everyone agreed that whatever sleep we could get, we would need it. Lengthy hugs were exchanged. Brooke let me know that she would keep Emma in the morning while I went to the funeral home, everyone left and the house was quiet, so quiet I could barely stand it. Chris and I put Emma to bed...... I had not reason to turn out the light of our bedroom, sleep would not come no matter how hard I might try..... Every time I closed my eyes visions flooded my mind and I literally jerked myself into an upright position. I had to clear the thoughts of a person placing a gun in their mouth and pulling a trigger and ending their life so tragically....... However, I do remember dozing off between the hours and 1 a.m. and 2 a.m. Tuesday was going to be a very long day.
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