Tomorrow Is Just Another Day On The Calendar

Tomorrow is just another day on the calendar. Life goes on and goes out. It's the circle of life. It will be August 21st, 2010. Just another day of summer. It will be a Saturday and the weather is supposed to be dry and in the 70s. Perfect.

Three years ago on August 21st I had a two men approaching my door. My husband had already left for work and my tiny four year old daughter was with me, curious to see who was at the door. It was a very beautiful day. I remember the sun was out and I was scared because of the night before. It looked like a day just like tomorrow is supposed to be. My daughter and I were going to find a different place to stay.

The men turned out to be detectives from the Dennis Police Station. One of them had found my husband, dead, on a beach we used to go to called Crowe's Pasture in Dennis. They said that he had hung himself with his belt from the door of his truck.

I can't believe this was three years ago. It is so surreal. My daughter and I lost everything. We have come so far from then and I have changed so much. She has grown through her times of despair and just growing up. I would never wish this on a child. I feel guilt that she doesn't have a father. I have a father and she has pointed this out to me. We both know it's not fair. Her Daddy would have been 50 years old this past January. I turned 37 in February, but sometimes I feel like I'm 100 years old in my head. Sometimes my body doesn't seem to want to cooperate with me. They call it aggravated PTSD, depression, agoraphobia, and social phobia. Fun. And my daughter has PTSD, but she has come a long way!

This would have been the night my daughter and I stayed at our neighbor's house even though my husband had been served with the restraining order. Oh, I felt horrible about everything. My daughter was scared and I was trying to act normal. Nothing was normal that night.

I had gone to the court earlier that day. Someone from Independence House, a place for abused women, helped me with the paper work and told me that it was really up to the judge and what I said that would determine whether or not I got the restraining order.

My husband had been going downhill after returning from the war. It was physical, mental and emotional. He had all of the classic war time symptoms of PTSD and had a failed suicide attempt in 2005. As time went by he started to use drugs, drink more, stopped coming home, became angrier, more violent and less willing to pay attention to me and my daughter. He was sick.

The day he was even more rough with my daughter I knew I couldn't let it get worse. It was one thing to push me around and scare me. It was one thing to throw furniture and yell at me and scare the crap out of me and put me down, but to start physically shaking your own daughter, I had to draw the line. He had started to spank her. He hurt my baby. He talked about violence in front of her. He demeaned me in front of her and she tried to protect me from his vile words and his physical attacks. I remember the time he used an army move on me and I landed on the floor. That hurt the most. When he cornered me and breathed those fumes of alcohol and tobacco into my face while he blasted me I just wanted to curl up and die. Then he would be drunk in front of my baby. He would get angry if she tried show Daddy something. He would yell at her. She even tried negative attention, but then he started the shaking.

I ended up getting my order. The judge listened. I told him it was for me, but more importantly I had to protect my daughter from my husband. It wasn't safe anymore. Everything was in writing. The police reports I had I wrote about as well as the unusual behaviors, violence, abuse, and other restraining orders as well as his prior suicide attempt. It was also noted that he was a veteran of the Persian Gulf war and the War in Iraq.
There goes my hero.

The detectives said that I may want to have my daughter go somewhere else. I came outside and then I saw their faces shining in the sun. They had a certain look. I had seen that look before in 2000 when I was told about my boyfriend's suicide. It was the same exact look. It was serious, brows furrowed, concern, fear, and I could tell they were uncomfortable. It was the night after the restraining order had been served. They told me that they had found him dead. They told me how and said that it was quick. They said that hanging is a quick death. I couldn't understand. They stayed with me while I went inside, got my daughter dressed and called for a friend to take her for the day. I called my parents and told them what had happened. They called a grief officer to the house.

Tomorrow will be three years for me and my daughter. Things are different. I still have his ashes. I need to have most of them buried in the National Cemetery and they will put down a plaque in the ground for my hero. There will finally be a place for us to visit. The rest of the ashes will be tossed into the harbor he played at when he grew up and where he fished as he grew older. My daughter still wants me to get a small stone for our yard.

This whole week has been creeping up on me. I have felt sad, mad, raging, furious, happy, disappointed, lonely, out of this world, like a loser, and just like I want to run away. I haven't been the best company even for myself. I love my daughter and we had been arguing a couple nights ago, but we worked it all out and talked about what each of us was feeling. We didn't go to bed scared or angry. We went to bed happy and knowing that we love each other no matter what.

I still feel alone though. I hate the fear of losing someone. My sister is in the ER now. She has type I diabetes, M.S. and she also has fluid on her skull. I don't want to lose her. I worry every time my girl is away from me even though it's good for us to have time apart. I worry about my parents leaving earth too. I worry about everyone. I even say a prayer every time I see a dead animal or hear or see an ambulance. I pray routinely. Obsessive compulsive behavior makes me feel safer in this scary world I live in.

I wish I could hold his hand just one more time. He still haunts me when I dream. It's like he hasn't settled.

For my daughter I will only call him a loving father and a hero. Someday I will have to tell her the truth. I pray that she doesn't hate me when that day comes. I never want to lose her. We both have lost so much. But, in spite of this great loss, we have gained a great appreciation for life in all its forms and for the love we have for friends and families. We are a team.

Tomorrow is just another day...... I will go on just like it was any other day because I am strong and that's exactly what it is.