The End

For this story, it really starts at the end...

The end is not pretty, it is not pleasant, it is not what anyone would want. It IS reality, it IS the plate I was handed, it IS my life. On February 16, 2004, my cell phone rang at 7:51 p.m. It was HIM. HIM is my estranged husband. I recognized the ring tone. I will tell you, I debated on whether or not I should answer, he was in a poor mood when I had picked up the kids just over an hour ago. I still wonder to this day what the outcome would have been if I didn't answer that night....

My youngest son and I were sitting on the couch at my mother's house. We were living with her temporarily. We had moved out of the house we shared with my husband 6 weeks earlier. "We" is myself and our two sons, ages 4 and 7. I remember it well; I re-live it almost every day. I answered the call and heard the following; "I love you so much, please take care of my boys for me." A shot followed. I am not nearly as clear about the details following the phone call.

I remember telling my mom, "he did it, he actually did it, I heard the shot!" I don't know why, but she told me to leave my cell phone with her so that she could call the police. Luckily I had enough sense to take it with me, yelling at her to call 911 from the home phone. I jumped in my vehicle and raced the almost 2 miles to the house we had shared. I remember driving wildly, passing people illegally. In hindsight, I wish that the police had followed me, it would have made my life much easier.

I ran in the back door, I was screaming at him, I was angry, I was scared. He didn't hear me. He was slumped over in the chair, blood littering his chest, a shotgun and a pipe laying on the floor, the phone lying next to them.