Each morning when I wake, I remember that you have left us. You killed yourself. You are dead. We can’t reach you any more.
John, I want to understand why you did this, but I cannot. Why did you leave me here without you? I hope every night that when I sleep I will find you again and I don’t. I am desperate to remember every detail of our life together, of all the things we said and did, and even though I can recall things, I still can’t see you.
I never thought it was possible to feel so much pain. I want so desperately to assimilate this, but I can’t. I want to ask you sweet man, how, when you had so much love around you and people to whom you meant so much that you could do this to us? I wonder if you see the pain we are in. Do you realise the hurt you have caused to those you left behind? I know from the questions I asked that you were crying when you died – so I know you were also in pain. Jesus Johnny, was there no other way?
So desperate am I for a sign from you or some sort of contact with you that I called a psychic last night. I wanted some answers to these questions that swim around in my brain and never stand still. I wanted a way to stop these tears which still keep coming. I found out what I think I already knew:
You had been suffering from long term depression – I think this really stemmed from you mother’s death in March 2005. Your then-wife had called you away at the last minute, when it was obvious that your mother would die – to run an errand for her because she was so incapacitated and unable to function with one of her imaginary illnesses no doubt; your mother died when you were away and you never forgave yourself. You never grieved and your hypochondriac Hal wife soon had you at the doctor’s to pump you full of anti-depressants. You once told me that you never felt the same after taking them. I know that counselling helped you, and I realise that the number of times you asked me about this that perhaps you were thinking of returning but couldn’t find the strength to ask or broach it again.
You had considered all ways of ending your life and settled on the one you felt would be least distressing for us to cope with – wrong big boy – you idiot. We are distraught as you can see and nothing can change that. Perhaps the fact that you didn’t blow your brains out is marginally helpful, but not much believe me. The viscous and revolting reality still stares us in the face; you planned and executed your own death at the age of 43, leaving a trail of emotional destruction in your wake.
You couldn’t talk about your problems. A compassionate and deep man, you tried to put a brave face on, but your were deeply troubled by the fact that nothing seemed to go right for you – you said as much in your note, that you believed that everything you touched went wrong. I think you had tunnel vision as so much was going right in your life: - access, albeit sporadic to P; a new flat – decorated to boot; a happy relationship with a woman who adored you and whom you adored; plans afoot to move in with “the love of your life” (sic) and start a new life together; the final stages of the divorce/separation from your estranged wife who admittedly dragged everything out to the nth degree because she could. The psychic didn’t mention it, but I know you were concerned about your work. Very concerned. You told me repeatedly that you didn’t feel you were really making any progress with anything.
John, I want to understand why you did this, but I cannot. Why did you leave me here without you? I hope every night that when I sleep I will find you again and I don’t. I am desperate to remember every detail of our life together, of all the things we said and did, and even though I can recall things, I still can’t see you.
I never thought it was possible to feel so much pain. I want so desperately to assimilate this, but I can’t. I want to ask you sweet man, how, when you had so much love around you and people to whom you meant so much that you could do this to us? I wonder if you see the pain we are in. Do you realise the hurt you have caused to those you left behind? I know from the questions I asked that you were crying when you died – so I know you were also in pain. Jesus Johnny, was there no other way?
So desperate am I for a sign from you or some sort of contact with you that I called a psychic last night. I wanted some answers to these questions that swim around in my brain and never stand still. I wanted a way to stop these tears which still keep coming. I found out what I think I already knew:
You had been suffering from long term depression – I think this really stemmed from you mother’s death in March 2005. Your then-wife had called you away at the last minute, when it was obvious that your mother would die – to run an errand for her because she was so incapacitated and unable to function with one of her imaginary illnesses no doubt; your mother died when you were away and you never forgave yourself. You never grieved and your hypochondriac Hal wife soon had you at the doctor’s to pump you full of anti-depressants. You once told me that you never felt the same after taking them. I know that counselling helped you, and I realise that the number of times you asked me about this that perhaps you were thinking of returning but couldn’t find the strength to ask or broach it again.
You had considered all ways of ending your life and settled on the one you felt would be least distressing for us to cope with – wrong big boy – you idiot. We are distraught as you can see and nothing can change that. Perhaps the fact that you didn’t blow your brains out is marginally helpful, but not much believe me. The viscous and revolting reality still stares us in the face; you planned and executed your own death at the age of 43, leaving a trail of emotional destruction in your wake.
You couldn’t talk about your problems. A compassionate and deep man, you tried to put a brave face on, but your were deeply troubled by the fact that nothing seemed to go right for you – you said as much in your note, that you believed that everything you touched went wrong. I think you had tunnel vision as so much was going right in your life: - access, albeit sporadic to P; a new flat – decorated to boot; a happy relationship with a woman who adored you and whom you adored; plans afoot to move in with “the love of your life” (sic) and start a new life together; the final stages of the divorce/separation from your estranged wife who admittedly dragged everything out to the nth degree because she could. The psychic didn’t mention it, but I know you were concerned about your work. Very concerned. You told me repeatedly that you didn’t feel you were really making any progress with anything.
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