When you gonna love you as much as I do

I don't know if I should put this out there or not. I don't know if any of you are going to want to read this right now either, but I am hoping it is going to help me. This blog has not been the most positive place in the world, but I am also hoping that as the year goes on, it will get more upbeat.

I was talking to our social worker at school who got into her field because of grief. I have talked to her a lot about Rory, and when I brought her the news about this death, she felt terrible for our entire group. I have cried a lot in her room and during one of our conversations about him, she asked if I would ever be able to write him a letter. My reply was, maybe someday, but I don't think I could do it anytime soon. After talking with Brian about it, I came to the conclusion that I should write him multiple letters. Many of you know that there are different stages of grief. I am planning on writing him a letter as I go through those different stages. Right now, I am still very angry about Rory's decision to take his life and you will see that anger in this letter. So this is your WARNING. Please do not read on if you don't want to.

Here goes...

Rory,

I can barely type your name without crying. I hate that. I haven't come to the realization that I am not going to see you ever again. My brain can't wrap around that thought. It just feels like life is busy and we haven't gotten a chance to give you a call to see when you can come over to dinner. I always made whatever you wanted. The two usuals were lasagna and enchiladas.

I don't understand the disease you had and I'm sure that is why I'm so angry. I can say to others "He's not in any pain anymore," and "We always thought this day might come," but inside I am screaming "Why couldn't you just keep on trying! We can figure this out. Brian and I are here to help you and we can get through this!" Damn it, I hate you for not wanting to keep on fighting.

I needed you to be around to teach the girls about music. I needed you to tell them "the stuff that your mom listens to is ok, but here is the really good shit." They aren't going to have that now and I hate you for that. I needed you to be around so that we could talk about Brian while he was in the room, but say the things as if he wern't. I hate that I am never going to hear you laugh that one loud "HA!" and then quieter chuckles after that.

You were such a brilliant person. Having said that you should have known that children are the best judges of character. If you were a truly awful person inside, the kids you worked with and the children of the people in the group would have seen it. I believe they can sense that. The kids loved you. That should have been how you knew you were a good person inside and out.

It breaks my heart to know that you thought about having a family like you mentioned in your letter. It almost makes me sick to my stomach that that woman will never find you and that child will never be born. You had so much to offer, even if you never truly believed your life was worth anything. I am here to tell you it was and I want you to believe me. I have never lied to you and I don't plan on starting to lie to myself now about how I feel about your suicide. I hate that you took your life. I hate how you decided to do it. I hate that it was during the late morning light and not during the early dark morning hours.

I drive across train tracks twice everyday. I drive across them on 170th, and follow them along HWY 3 into Rosemount and back home again at the end of the day. It wouldn't matter which way I go to work, I have to cross them at one time or another. I hear the trains in my classroom and at home. Nattie sometimes notices when they are going behind our house and says "Mamma! Look a train!" With tears in my eyes I say "That's right. And what does a train say?"  

I had a dream where someone rang our doorbell and when I answered it you were standing there with a huge smile on your face. It was almost as if you were saying "Gotcha!" But of course you would say something much more slang than that. From there me, you and Brian all went somewhere to talk and I got to tell you all the things I ever wanted to tell you and all the things I thought about what you did. You just sat there and listened, with no emotion what-so-ever.

I'm tired of being mad at you and I hope it goes away soon. Some days are better than others, but I am really struggling without you in this world. I want you back and I know that it's selfish, but you were selfish for taking your life. I am finding myself in my own depressed state. It has been very hard for me to motivate to get things done around the house and at school. A part of me is constantly sad. If you were here, I could ask you how to get through it. If you were here, I wouldn't have to be sad. Brian is starting to worry about me. But that's what Brian does. He takes care of the people he loves and he took care of you too. I know you know that, but you needed to TELL him that before you left us. I hate that a part of his heart is gone forever now. I know that he will heal to some extent, but he will also never be whole again. You left many people feeling that way.   

I love you and I hate that you're not around.

Gina