The Last Page

The last page of one of Ex’s notebooks contained more clues about his suicide than anything else I read. He had mentioned on the first page of that notebook that he would suffer no more. On the last page, he talked about how he just wanted to be loved and could not be loved, could not find love. We had split. He had traveled overseas to meet a woman he met online who did not click with him in person. He didn’t believe that anyone cared about him or loved him.

He talked about how much pain he felt. He suffered every day. On the last page, he wrote that the moon was full, he had his gun loaded, and that his dog was the only reason he couldn’t go through with his selfish act that night. It sounded like he attempted but that the dog would whine or bark, reminding him of a reason to stay, so he didn’t do it. Not that night. 

I looked up when the lunar calendar for September 2009. We had a full moon on Friday, September 4th. I didn’t know he had prepared himself for the two and a half weeks preceding the day he decided he’d had enough of this life, that he would “suffer no more.”

It has always made sense to me that he took some excursions through the forest on 4-wheel-drive trails during the two weeks prior to his death. He loved the Fall and the colors. They don’t last long here, about two weeks in September. I only know he made those trips because of the photos he took with the camera that we shared.  

What does not make sense to me, not that suicide makes sense to me anyway, but it does not make sense that I found no mention of our son as a reason to stay.

That boggles me!

I have never understood how he could leave his own child. I know I will probably never understand it. I will stop trying to understand it. It makes me sad though. It makes me sad that he left him, us, that he gave up on a chance to make his son’s life what his wasn’t.

Our son makes me a better person because I want a good life for us. He gives me a reason to stand up for myself and for him. He gives me a reason to mother to my best ability. He gives me reason to always learn and question and wonder and dream. He makes me smile. I love him more than words can express. I can’t imagine life without him. 

Ex had also written on the last page that he didn’t want to talk to his dad because he would talk him out of “going through with it.” He did not refer to his dad as his dad, though. He used a special term to signify that expressed Ex’s regard for him in the same manner that he did when he was a child. It wasn’t foul, but it wasn’t nice. The physical abuse Ex endured as a child tortured Ex his whole life. From conversations we had, I don’t think he ever understood why his parents brought him into the world. Maybe his parents didn’t know either. They were so young!

Ex’s dad told me that at the end of the last conversation they had, Ex didn’t say, “I love you,” at the end. He just said, “Bye.” Withholding his words probably made it easier for Ex to let go, let it all go. 

So I put off reading those notebooks this long. It feels good to have done it. Reading his words has stuck to me the last two days like a layer of gauze with static cling that slowly releases. I will let go of those words, too, not forget but let go, and I will always, always, love my son. 

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