The week before Vic�s death was a normal week. He had been really busy at the new unit all of February and the beginning of March that when I didn�t hear from him I didn�t think anything of it. I called a couple times and left messages on his cell but I knew he had been working really long hours and was dead tired when he got home. I knew I wasn�t going to see him that weekend because I had plans with friends and he was going to spend the weekend with his mom or so I thought.
I remember exactly where I was and what I was doing when he killed himself. It was March 24 (Palm Sunday) and I was at the movies watching Blade 2 with friends. Usually vampire movies don�t freak me out but I had a really hard time watching it. I didn�t feel right being there. After the movie, my friend Jim came over to work on my computer. Jim is a reserve cop in Ferndale and was wearing his service revolver. I�ve NEVER been scared around guns but it freaked me out to the point I made him put it in his truck. He left and for some reason I couldn�t sleep, I just knew something wasn�t right. Monday (3/25)morning I get a phone call at about 7:20 from Al (my acting first sergeant).
Me: Hello
Al: Hey
Me: What�s going on?
Al: What are you doing?
Me: Getting ready for work. What�s up?
Al: Are you sitting down?
Me: YES. Are you going to tell me what is going on?
Al: We lost Vic over the weekend.
Me: What?
Al: Sweetie, Vic�s dead. He died sometime last night.
Me: Where? What happened?
Al: I don�t have any other details. I�ll call you when I learn more.
Me:Thanks.
I hung up finished getting ready for work and left. It didn�t hit me until I go to the office. Where after I turn on my computer I collapsed to the floor bawling. I spent the next 2 hours in a conference room with Arleen (a co worker) talking about what I knew and remembering the good times. I ended up leaving at lunch because I couldn�t think straight or focus on anything. The next phone call I got was that evening. Al called when I was out eating dinner. It was the first time all day that I had eaten. I remember him telling me to call him when I got home. I asked him if he knew something and he said yes but to call when I got home. I said to him, �he committed suicide. Didn�t he?� Al didn�t say anything for a minute and then said yes. That he had been found at a rest stop in Port Huron with all of his identification in a plastic bag next to him on the seat of his truck. And that the only way the could identify him was by the tattoo on his arm. I thanked him for calling me and went to leave the restaurant. I made it to the front counter where I proceeded to lose it again. One of the waitresses came and sat with me for a few minutes and gave me her number. She�d lost her boyfriend a few months earlier to suicide as well. I never called her.
When I got home I started calling friends. I didn�t want to be home alone. Eric was already in bed when I called but he got up and come over. He stayed with me the whole night. He�s probably one of my best friends.
I went to work the next morning still numb. Everyone avoided me. I ended up going to the doctor and he put me on Xanax and Ativan and told me to take the rest of the week off. I stopped by work on my way home to give them the doctor note, went home, packed and headed to my parents house. What is normally a 3-hour drive turned into an all day adventure. I had to stop often because I was crying so bad. Al called again later that night and talked to my mom. He didn�t want to talk to me and I didn�t understand why. It wasn�t until my mom forced him to talk to me that I found out. For whatever reason, his family didn�t want me at the funeral. I asked him how they planned on stopping me. That�s when he said, I hate to do it but a colonel from Group and I am ordering you to stay away from the funeral. Do not contact the family, they what nothing to do with you. Don�t send flowers, cards or call.
That pushed me over the edge. I got into a fight with my parents and some how managed to get out of the house. I was wearing only jeans and a t-shirt in 30-degree weather. I ran the � mile from my parent�s house to the lake in town. I didn�t want to live. I started walking around on the lake and my dad literally had to drag me back to the truck. The rest of the week is a blur. I know at one point I drove back to Detroit and confronted Al. I wanted to know why his family was being so unreasonable. But he couldn�t give me answers. I will never have any answers I just have to figure out a way to deal with it and move on. Some days I�m not sure that I can.
September 15th we would have been married a year. September 26th he would have been 37. Sometimes, if I�m really still I can still here his voice, the way he laughed. I can still hear him say my name and smell the soap he used.
I�m sure some of my friends are worried that I will be consumed by my grief. I think I already have. I don�t care about anything anymore. I just want to crawl in a hole and disappear.
