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I cried myself to sleep last night.

I guess because I’ve finally started the process of starting again. Which is not to say that I am picking up the pieces. That would imply that there are pieces to be picked up. There are no pieces Only a huge wide open void. Emptiness in my heart where Rob’s heart used to beat to the rhythm of mine. A vacuum of air in my left hand, where he used to hold it.

But I am starting again and it is the hardest process one can go through. Divorce was an obvious end and an obvious beginning. As I told Rob, when he lay in the grass and I waited for paramedics. Suicide was a permanent solution to temporary problems and this has left me with one very permanent problem. But if I was meant to die when he did, or if he wanted me to stop living, because he had, he would have taken me with him. So here I am, for as long as it takes.

I know a lot of people may disagree with what I am about to say but I’m in a risk taking mood and I’ve grown tired of holding back my thoughts in the presence of adversity.  I believe that Rob’s death was a phase of fate. After knowing him for only 2 weeks Rob told me these 3 things:

1)      “I will die young,

2)      And alone.”

When I asked him, “How, do you know?” he answered,

3)      ”I’ll have a tumor in my brain. Something that doesn’t belong there.”

I tried to argue his foresight by telling him, “If you have a tumor, people would want to be around you and with you.” His argument was, “No one will know, until after I’m gone.” Because I had only known him for a short time this conversation seemed very odd and unbelievable to me. So I did not take it too seriously. Over time I decided that young could mean 50 or even 60 years old. After a year of being at his side, and quietly fearing those three things, I told him, “You’re never alone when you have me.” I remember the contemplative smile he gave me. Over a bit more time we decided between the two of us that time is always limited and that we should do the most and best with it that we could. Living with concern of death is no way to live. Rob always had faith that his reward would come when he died and never once did he fear death. He looked at it as a release from the pains that bound him to this earth. Weeks before his death as we lay in bed, we talked about my old dog Skamper who had died of Cancer on the 9^th of January, 2 years ago. This conversation lead to him asking me, “Why do people make it a point of remembering the date someone died?” I told him, “The same reason we remember someone’s birthday. Because something monumental changed in the world.” He told me, “Every end leads to a new beginning.” Rob knew I was thinking of Skamp and would never associate this conversation to him. He asked, “Why do you fear death so much? You’ll get to see all of your family and friends that are gone.” I told him, because I will miss the people I leave behind.” He told me, “You never really leave anyone behind and in heaven time flies so quickly it’ll seem like no time at all.” All I could say was, “I hope so.”

Rob died at the age of 37. He was half a mile from me, I did not hear the shot. Yet I felt the emptiness in my soul instantly. He did not have a brain tumor, he had a 22 caliber bullet in his brain. It would be foolish for anyone to think he had planned his suicide for the 6 years, 6 months and 19 days that he was with me. If he had, he would have avoided getting into such a deep relationship with anyone to keep from hurting anyone. Rob did not want anyone to hurt. He spent his life helping others with little or no reward. He always told me, “My reward is waiting for me in heaven.” Though he absolutely did ask for help in his last days, very little came. Rob did not need mental help, he needed someone, anyone to return a favor. When no help came I believe he heard his true home calling him.

The day he died, Rob spent the morning talking to God through the sunrise. After the sun had fully risen he said a good bye to me that was filled with double meanings. I could tell there was no convincing him to stay. Had I known what he meant by “leaving” I would have been able to react more accordingly. But fate has it’s way of working through, passed and beyond the will, want or desire of any person. Like every other time he had gone into the woods alone, he took the rifle (for protection from bears, mountain lions etc. I thought). He said, “Thanks for trying to believe in me.”. Before I could tell him, “I didn’t try. I do believe in you.” he was walking down the road.  

Rob had been successful. We had a pleasant life in a large home, that he had provided for his family. We enjoyed weekly dinners out and monthly dates to a comedy club or mini golf coarse. At first when we found ourselves residing in a trailer in the woods, relief and excitement pumped through our veins to our hearts. In a short month we could not afford propane for heat, nor could we afford fuel for transportation or a phone which he could use in his job search. We had been humbled to an ultimately meager existence. He had spent a week cooking dinner on the camp fire in order to conserve propane for heat. Until his last week, Rob had been mining the river daily, in water that was less then 7 degrees in temperature. Often it was iced over, other times ice pieces would float by while we panned. Rob worked harder then most employed people. He worked until his feet were numb for days at a time, they were always wet. His hands calloused over and burned for hours as they thawed. His hands and feet hurt more when I tried to rub them. I was left helpless aside from keeping his wettest clothes and shoes over heater vents, preparing food for him to cook and collecting fire wood. How could anyone know his pride in the success he had accomplished and his humility in what he’d considered failure, which he refused to share with me, and still ask WHY?