As soon as I sit beside him, Dave says, “Kate, I’m not supposed to be here. I’m not supposed to be here.” Tears roll down his cheeks. He looks depleted. Defenseless. Defeated. Hopeless. Tears roll down my cheeks, “I know, I know.”
He needs more time. He hasn’t recovered from last night’s state yet.
“Kate, I didn’t want people to see me like this. I was looking at the dream site that we wanted to build a home on. I smelled the fresh air that I loved. I was content. The time was right. I lived a full life. I experienced many things. I wanted to go on my own time. To be remembered as I was. To die with loved ones who remember me, not die alone.” Dave had self-talked himself the night of the near attempt, into believing that a divorce was imminent. Dave witnessed divorces and he didn’t want to go through that.
“But when Amy (cousin) came I couldn’t do that to her. I thought about driving away, but I couldn’t do that to her. I couldn’t let her think that she was responsible for letting me get away. She was on her knees, crying, begging me to give her the pills, to come out. John (cousin) came and kept telling me to come out of the car.”
“The police officers wanted to cuff me, for my own safety. They already frisked me. They were going to bring me to the ER cuffed. But John said he would take me.”
“Even though all those people cared about me, you were the one that mattered most. I know you can’t change. I wouldn’t want you to change. I have to think if I want to stay or separate. But it would kill me if I couldn’t see Beth (our daughter–if we divorced).”
“I feel so ashamed. I didn’t want everyone to know, everyone to come. I didn’t want visitors because I didn’t want to have to explain why anymore. I didn’t know what to say.”
I listen. I caress his face. I hold him.