Amber Lea Easton - Free Fall

Free Fall

A memoir

one family surviving the suicide of a lovedone

and reclaiming life on their own terms

by

Amber Lea Easton

Published by Mountain Moxie Publishing

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013 Amber Lea Easton

Cover design by Amber Lea Easton

This book is also available in print frommost online retailers.

Discover other Smashwordstitles by Amber Lea Easton at https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/305522

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personalenjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away toother people. If you would like to share this book with anotherperson, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Ifyou're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was notpurchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.comand purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard workof this author.

Although this is a memoir, a work ofcreative nonfiction, some of the names have been changed to protectthe privacy of the individuals. This is my story, from myperspective only. Conversations and situations are from my memoryand journals written during the time period involved.

Dedication

This book is dedicated to anyone who walksthe lonely road of grief, who may feel alone and hopeless. My wordshere are meant to let you know you are not alone, that the sadnesswill dissipate, and that, yes, you will once again experience joy.Eventually.

Peace to you who hold this book in yourhands. If you're reading these words, I can only assume that you orsomeone you love has been touched by tragedy and sorrow. Be good toyourself.

Foreword

Sometimes you cant letgo of the past without facing it again.

-- GailTsukiyama, The Samurai's Garden

On May 29, 2005, my husband committedsuicide. At age thirty-seven, I was left a widow with a seven andeight-year old to raise alone. That hadn't been part of the plan.None of this had been part of the plan!

My husband had long suffered withalcoholism. He'd gone to rehab twice and was a member of AA. Whenhe was sober, he was the most amazing man who pushed me out of mycomfort zone and taught me to appreciate life on a deeper level. Wehad years of sobriety in our marriage, thank God. But when hewasn't sober, he was an entirely different person. Scary. Violent.Paranoid.

I'd left him several times during our tenyears together, usually taking my children to hotels in the middleof the night. The last time we'd been separated, I created a storyto "cover" his six-month absence while he fought for sobriety.Judge that, if you must, but I did what I did because I hoped he'dsucceed. I didn't want to give up on him, on us, on the idea ofhappily ever after. He had a therapist, attended AA, and hisrecovery seemed like a reality. We shared years of happinessdare Isay contentmentbefore it began unraveling a year before hisdeath.

Sean was a soccer coach, a hard worker, anda good guy whom everyone loved when they met him. He had a generousheart, an easy-going nature, and romantic soul. Each year on ourwedding anniversary, he'd duplicate my wedding bouquet and surpriseme with it wherever we happened to be. Kids he coached would run upand hug him when they saw him in the grocery store. No matter whatturmoil brewed in our relationship, he never missed a day oftelling me he loved me. There was a lot to love about the man...anda lot to fear.

So when he hung himself inour bedroom, it had to be my fault... right ? There had to have beensomething I could have said or done to change theoutcome... right ?

That's what the collective jury of societydecided as we remaining three Eastons struggled to piece our livesback together. Why would they think anything else? I'd covered forhim and kept our secrets locked behind closed doors while I foughtto keep him sober and sane for years.

In one instantin his final acthe strippedaway my identity as wife, stay-at-home mom, and best friend. In onemoment our world crumbled from beneath our feet. He'd been thecenter of our universe but now he was gone. Everything I everbelieved to be true crumbled beneath my feet.

How was I going to pay themortgage? How was I going to maintain a mountain home alone? Wouldwe need to move right away? Would the kids lose the only homethey'd ever known? How would I explain this to the children? Howcould I start over while dealing with the loss of man I'd lovedwith all of my heart? I'd been out of the workforce for nineyearsyes, that had been my choice at the time because we'd hada plan . Now what?What would happen to us now with our income suddenly cut by2/3?

That's a lot to absorb. Fear. Shock. Guilt.What-ifs. Grief. Trauma. Secrets. Judgment. Uncertainty.

Being a young widow with two small childrento care for created unique challenges that I was unprepared tohandle. People would look at meso young in the big scheme ofthingsand balk at the word "widow". Learning to say that wordwithout cringing was a challenge in and of itself. Learning toforgive Sean, learning to find peace with the suicide, learning tolet go of the identity of "wife", learning my strengths, andlearning to raise two children solo without allowing their father'sdeath to become a crutch for theman excuse to go off the railshasbeen a grueling journey.

Why tell the story, though? What's thepoint? My situation isn't that uniqueexcept in my world, Iknowrather, it's far too common. When this happened to me, thereweren't many resources about widows of suicide raising two youngchildren. I felt alone. Isolated. Damaged. Terrified.

I spoke with my children, who are nowteenagers, and they encouraged me to write this for others who mayfeel alone, lost, hopeless, sad, and confused as they face theirown tragedy. We never want anyone else to feel that they aresomehow abnormal in their grief or that they are in any wayalone.

So that's who this book is for...otherwidows, widowers, survivors of suicide, children, and loved oneswho need encouragement that there is another side to grief. Thereis. We're there now. We're looking back and holding our hand out toyou saying, "hang in there, you're not alone, and you'll get here,too."

The following is my unguarded truth, from myperspective, of what happened the day Sean killed himself and thesubsequent days of piecing life together again. Based on journalsand my memory, this is my story.

Chapter One

May 29, 2005

Some people's lives seemto flow in a narrative; mine had many stops and starts. That's whattrauma does. It interrupts the plot. You can't process it becauseit doesn't fit with what came before or what comes afterward. Afriend of mine, a soldier, put it this way. In most of our lives,most of the time, you have a sense of what is to come. There is asteady narrative, a feeling of "lights, camera, action" when bigevents are imminent. But trauma isn't like that. It just happens,and then life goes on. No one prepares you for it. Jessica Stern,Denial: A Memoir of Terror

I'm sick. Last night's flight home fromCancun was one of the worst I'd ever experienced. I started feelingsick at the hotel before we left and it had only gotten worse asthe day continued. I'm surprised they let me through Customsconsidering I'd looked like the walking dead.

We'd arrived at Denver International latelast night from our two-week vacation in Playa Del Carmen. For allI knew, the bags were still in the back of the SUV. I'd pretty muchcollapsed into bed when we'd gotten home.

The house is abnormally quiet. I drag myselfout of bed, feeling better but still a bit shaky. I look at mywriters' notebook that I'd tossed aside last night. Sean had sat atthe edge of the bed holding it, saying something about me needingto read what he'd written on the plane ride home, but I'd been sickand exhausted so had set it aside. I glance at it now, see thatit's three pages front and back, and decide to read it later.