This blog post started to come together in my head over the MLK weekend last month. Somehow, I avoided writing it.
Three years ago, the three-day Martin Luther King, Jr. weekend proved to be the beginning of the end, of sorts, for a marriage I had fought hard for, for a very long time. I believed in love. I believed I had it. I believed it was worth fighting for and so I did for a long, long time. I did for myself. I did it for my children. I did it for what I believed to be love. Then, one day, I saw my world starting to crumble around me. My eyes opened to things I had never fathomed. And, it all came to a crashing reality when my husband threatened to kill himself in words spoken to me, in front of our three-year-old son and six-month-old daughter. How does a mother answer the question, "mommy, why is daddy going to kill himself?" How does she answer this question for herself.
What brings this all to light again today. Why I need to write it today.
Today would have been my cousin Toby's 40th birthday. Instead of celebrating an exciting point in his life, I shed tears during Mass today. In October 2005, Toby took his own life. My husband was present in my life and saw how I struggled with Toby's suicide. Whether he was serious about wanting to do it or using it as an emotional manipulative device, it devastated me. Rather than fight for his marriage, he would kill himself. I still to this day harbor some angry feelings toward Toby's decision. It makes me sad, but it makes me angry. You see, Toby was more than "just" my cousin. Within recent weeks, I came across a journal I kept during the fall of 2005. In it, I had written a poem called "My Cousin, My Brother." My parents are Toby's Godparents. Toby lived with us for several years and I came to view him as an older brother. When your "brother" kills himself, it takes a toll. It took a toll on the whole family. When five years later your husband threatens to do the same, it crushes your spirit. When you're discussing it later and he says, "I wasn't going to shoot myself. Do you want me to tell you how I was going to do it?" It tears the very fabric of your being. Your life, everything you've worked so hard for blurs. You think of your small children and what it would mean for them. You know how you handled a family suicide as an adult. What would it do to a three-year-old? To an infant? And then you have to start looking at the future and start making the difficult decisions that need to be made. And then you make them. And then you step into the future. And you focus on life, and living. You live your life for yourself and your children. You do what you need to do. You savor each moment. You live.
Today, we "celebrated" the stoning of Stephen. A martyr. A man who died for his faith so we might live for ours. Let us live. Let us live fully.
Happy birthday, Toby, my cousin, my brother.
