Jack
The only thing keeping my own emotions in check at the moment is the unease I am feeling over my wife’s reaction. After Jen graciously left us to digest the horrific chain of events, Leila never cried. It was her sudden insane determination to proceed as normal that had me even more concerned.
That night it was as if none of it happened.
She dismissed Beverly, tending to the kids herself. I could hear her singing to them and laughing with them. When I joined her to see if she needed help, she waved me away with a smile. It’s been quiet for hours, and I know the kids are asleep. My wife has yet to surface. I’m fighting the urge to go and find her, forcing her out here to be with me. I argue with myself if she doesn’t appear in an hour, I’ll check on her. I know she needs this solitude. Even though it goes against every grain of logic, I need to give her this time and space.
I stare into the swirling amber liquid as I stir the glass I’m holding. I’ve had three, four? I don’t feel any effects at all. It’s not making its way to my bloodstream. My esophagus is clogged, like a drain filled with muck that even this powerful whiskey can’t unclog.
Why?
That’s the only thing running through my mind over and over. I’m trying not to judge her. I have no right to, but…
Why?
Why would she choose such an isolated, appalling, clinical way to end her life? I stare at the box that Jen gave me, a box that Paula instructed she pass along. It sits ominously on the floor, waiting to be addressed. I sit facing it, daring it to speak. Daring it to tell me why. Hoping it holds answers. More than anything, I need a guarantee that inside that box we’ll find all we need to appease our confusion. I’m hoping that Paula left for us a roadmap on how to get through this, more importantly how to get her son through it. A box of answers wrapped neatly with a nice little bow.
It’s not until I feel her presence that I finally stop staring at that damn box.
“Hey.”
Wordlessly, she gently takes the drink from my hand to take a sip. Her face scrunches as it always does when she drinks anything harder than her cheap wine. While still holding the glass she sits close, yet far enough away where we aren’t touching.
Minutes pass as we both stare at the box.
“We need to tell him.” I nod, although she can’t see me since she’s staring straight ahead. “We need to open it.”
“Are you ready to do that?”
She leans back on the couch, staring straight up at the ceiling. “It’s not about me.”
“When?”
“Now.”
Our gazes meet. It’s hard to gauge what she’s feeling. The tone of her voice hints to that determination she displayed earlier. I quietly move toward the box, carrying it back to her. After I place the box on the table, she looks up at me expectantly.
It’s what I’ve been waiting for all night. It’s time to get answers. Impulsively, I snatch off the lid, exposing a box filled to capacity. Lying on top is a handwritten letter addressed to both of us. Leila watches me lift the letter and asks, “Can you read it?”
Jack, Leila,
I can only guess what you are thinking or feeling. I’ll try to address all the concerns and questions I can only imagine are running through your minds.
I’m sorry.
I apologize for leaving you with the task of consoling Shane, but that is all I can apologize for.
I hope with this letter, I can help you to understand why I decided to leave my son sooner than necessary.
I’ve been carrying around the reality of Shane being alone long enough that I should have gotten used to it. Until the moment I picked up this pen, I can honestly say I still haven’t. It’s unnatural to think that way. It goes against everything you believe as a mother. Once you become a mother, your one and only job on this earth is to take care of your child. To protect him, keep him safe, keep him happy, and ensure he grows up to be the adult you know you’ll be proud of.
Now, imagine picturing birthday after birthday, Christmas after Christmas, school events, scrapes, bruises, failed tests, broken bones, achievements, finding love, having a family, and facing any horrors that life decides to throw his way. Please imagine him experiencing all of that without his mother. I had to. I had to predict and foresee all of these wonderful, horrible, sad, happy, exciting, and scary moments he will be experiencing without me.
Those images kept my reality in check. By constantly remembering I won’t be there for him, I was able to use my time constructively by planning ahead. I used what little energy I had to secure a future for my son. It was a false sense of security, but I held onto it to keep me sane. That, along with my need to make his dreams come true, helped me to get through my sleepless nights.
And then you came into our lives.
After you asked for guardianship, my plans were all moot. I had to revisit and revise. I no longer had to worry about his wellbeing or his welfare. He will be secure. He will be safe, happy, and loved. I no longer had to waste what little energy I had worrying about him. A weight I had been carrying was lifted, thanks to you.
Only two things continued to consume my every waking moment. The first one was my absence in his life. You couldn’t help me with that, no one could. I felt helpless. Maybe I could possibly make it better by leaving behind what I wanted him to know, what I wanted him to remember. The best gift I could give my son was happy thoughts, happy memories of me.
I’ve filled this box with tokens, letters, and memories that I want him to have. I realize these tangible gifts are all a poor substitute. In the box you’ll find silly little toys and birthday cards. Pictures of us together since the day he was born. I’ve written letters marking milestones, some to comfort his first failures, and many to tell him how much he meant to me and how much I loved him. The most important letter is my explanation, my apology, and the reason why I’ve chosen to end my life. He’s too young to understand it all. I would never expect you to attempt to explain it to him. For now, all he needs to know is that his mommy loved him and God needed her in Heaven to look over him and to be an angel. We’ve had this conversation before. It won’t be a surprise to him.
The second thing that consumed me was my fear. I’m terrified of what will happen to me. I’m terrified of the pain and the unknown. I’m terrified of losing control and having Shane witness it. I wish I could just close my eyes and go to sleep.
Thanks to Dr. Colsin, I can.
I know without having to ask that you will give my son your love and a wonderful life. I know that you will give him support and financial security. I know you will welcome him into your family, making him feel it’s where he’s meant to be. I know you will console him through this difficult time, dry his tears, and hug him when he wakes from a bad dream.
You can give him every single thing he will ever need except for one, a happy memory of his mother.
So, please leave that one up to me?
With love and immeasurable gratitude,
Paula Elliot
Predictably, we didn’t get any sleep last night. I lay beside my wife in bed, answering any random question that would pop out of her mouth. With each hour that passed, the questions lessened. We may not understand her decision or agree with it, but it’s not our place to judge.
Leila explained her behavior earlier and admitted she was angry with Paula. The box helped her replace the anger with empathy. Just as Paula informed us, everything necessary to give Shane happy memories of his mother was inside that box. Also included were medical records, a copy of her Last Will & Testament, (which had been revised and dated only a few days ago), contact information for her lawyer, contact information for Dr. Colsin, bank account information, keys to their apartment, Shane’s birth certificate, a list of Shane’s favorite things, a list of what he hated or disliked, a list of living relatives, and one single picture of his father.
I held the picture for a long time, judging the man who chose to leave his child behind. Jen said he took off when Paula told him she was pregnant. He never learned if Paula had a boy or a girl. He’s not listed on the birth certificate. He’s insignificant. If Shane were to one day insist on knowing who he is, only then should we give him that information.
Once the kids wake, Beverly will be taking the twins to her room to have breakfast. Leila and I will have a quiet breakfast with Shane. The lack of sleep, along with the emotions that consumed us, has taken its toll on our faces. We both look like we’ve been through hell, and the worst part hasn’t occurred yet. Through it all, my wife still hasn’t shed a tear or accepted my touch. I know she’s having her moment and handling it the only way she knows how. I just wish she would let me handle some of it for her.
We’re both dressed and waiting for this fateful moment in time where Shane learns of his future.
“Are you okay?”
My wife stops pacing and shrugs. “How are we going to do this?”
“Just as she asked us to.”
She looks over at me confused, almost as if she didn’t hear my response. “Jack, I’m scared.”
I cross the room to where she stands, and she takes a step back.
“We’ll do this together. We’ll take it one day at a time. It’s not going to be easy. Hopefully with each day that passes, we’ll help him get closer to being happy again.” I reach out to gently tuck her hair behind her ear. At my touch she stiffens. “One day at a time, okay?”
“Okay.”
Her topaz eyes lack their brilliance. The dark circles make them look lifeless. I’m not concerned. My wife always wears her emotions. She also has a fire that cannot be extinguished. With each challenge, the light in her eyes always returned brighter than ever. I know with every moment she spends with Shane, with every day that passes, she’ll once again be my Leila, the light of my life and of our three kids as well.