My parents split up when I was 3 years old and promptly exiled themselves to their respective coasts: my father to the east and my mother here on the west. A few years ago my father remarried. I don’t know his wife or her family, 2 daughters and 1 son, at all really. I met her once when I was 16 and I found myself annoyed, as teenagers tend to be at most things, so when the relationship became legal I did not choose to pursue getting to know her, opting rather to focus on “my” life. Since they’ve been married I think I have only spoken to her 3 times. Brief conversations that I have never initiated. Given the history of the situation, which I won’t get into here, a relationship with her just wasn’t something I was looking to develop.
My father called me today to tell me that her adult son was killed by his wife, with whom he has 5 children, the eldest being 15. She later turned the gun on herself. The last thewy knew is that she was taken to a hospital. Whether she survived her self-inflicted wounds remains unclear. I didn’t know what to say. My heart just breaks for all of them.
Three months from today will mark the 10-yr. anniversary of my brother’s death.
You want there to be something you can “do” and there isn’t. Me, who’s always pausing to find the right word, wants there to be something I can say and there isn’t that either. It’s just hard. Some things are just sad and it takes as long as it takes.