Order In The Midst Of Chaos

The same metallic, pungent odor of blood filled my nostrils once again.  The blood had soaked down into the cushion of the chair and was only slightly damp to my touch, amazingly, I had no blood on me when I eventually pulled away.  I began to peruse the chair, it was totally clean.  How could that be?  How could someone shoot themselves in the head at close range and not cover the back and arms of this chair with blood and brain matter?  There was just one large blood stain on the seat of the chair, and that was it.  I asked a couple of the men about it, hoping that they could explain, they could not explain it either.  At some point in our observations, either I or someone else suggested that perhaps Tim had been kneeling at the chair, where his head slumped over and bled onto the seat cushion.  This was a theory that I went with due to an inability to explain it.  That thought haunted my mind for a day or two, I could not get that picture out of my head.  The thought of Tim kneeling in that chair, praying, crying out to God in despair only to finally put a gun to his head and end it all was just more than I could bear.  That was the only explanation we had for the incredibly clean chair.  We would however, upon receiving autopsy results have more insight into what exactly happened.

Before I proceed further, I would like to share with you something that happened approximately two years before Tim's death.  I should have added this to an earlier blog, but it totally slipped my mind, but I feel it will help the reader to understand the state of mind Tim was in for the last few years of his life.

We had been dealing with a lot if issues in the church, the typical stresses of Pastoring.  I don't even remember what happened that had upset Tim so much on this particular day, but we had been discussing the situation for hours, Tim becoming more and more agitated.  I had some errands to run, so I left Tim that day undressing and preparing to take a nap.  I had only travelled a couple of blocks from our home when God spoke to me (this is one of those times I have previously mentioned) and said, "Go home!"  I hesitated and the Lord spoke again, "GO HOME!"  That got my attention, so I promptly turned the car around to head home.  I also started calling our house phone.  It rang and rang and eventually our answering machine picked up.  I said "Tim, this is Shawn can you pick up the phone?"  Nothing.  This went on and on with me calling over and over.  Finally on the last call I am screaming, panicked, begging him to pick up the phone, that I was concerned.  Finally I pulled up into our driveway.  I enter the house and call for him.......nothing.  Fearful of what I might find I walk into our bedroom.  There is Tim, lying on our bed, arms and legs stretched out wide, he was awake, staring up at the ceiling.  I try to talk to him, asking him why he had not answered my phone calls, telling him that he had scared me.  He never responds, just continues to stare at the ceiling.  And then, I see it, the cold gray steel of a gun in his right hand.

I was standing at the foot of our bed and my purse fell out of my hand onto the floor.  What do I do now?  I was concerned for my safety as well as his.  In my head I am praying, "God, help me with this, show me what to do."  I crawled from the foot of the bed until I was straddling Tim. I very gently lay across him, stretching my arms and legs out over his.  We were nose to nose,  chest to chest.  Still he is completely unresponsive.  I very gently, yet firmly get my hand on the gun and am able to release it from his grasp and push it to the end of the bed.

My heart is literally pounding out of my chest.  There is still a possibility that he can get that gun and shoot himself right in front of me!  I am talking to him, trying to calm him down, and then, he began to sob, telling me he did not want to live anymore, etc.  I talked him thru it and somehow with the help of God we made it thru that day without a word of it ever being mentioned again.

So, as you can imagine, that afternoon of August the 6th, 2009 was a sort of deja vu for me, but with a very different ending.

I returned to the house after viewing Tim's blood soaked chair.  Someone had ordered pizza and more people had come including the new Pastor of our church and my cousin, Reverend Delmon Sansom and his wife.  By this time I was starting to feel the overwhelm, I was walking around in a dazed state.  Kendra's friends had come to be with her and I saw them standing in the middle of the den embracing, crying.  Haley was in her bedroom curled into a fetal position, wearing one of Tim's t-shirts, his watch and clutching different items belonging to him tightly in her hands.  Someone brought me our house phone and told me I had a call.  "Hello" I said.  "Is it true??!!"  I heard someone wailing on the other end.  They were crying so hard I could barely understand them and could not make out who it was.  "Yes, it's true" I said.  "Who is this?" I inquired.  It was Sarina Kesler.  She and her husband Nathan are our dear friends who were ministers of music in New York at the time.  They were devastated at the news and assured me they would be on the next flight to Arizona.  They turned out to be a great source of strength and encouragement to me in the days to follow.

At some point someone asked me if I wanted to sit down and plan his service, I did, anything to occupy my mind.  I consulted with Delmon, our Assistant Pastor and Pastor Wiley and within just a few minutes we had his entire funeral planned.  It was as though I had known for some time that Tim would meet an untimely end and I knew exactly what he would have wanted.  

My Pastor Randy Keyes would speak, as well as Reverend Mike Williams, Director of the Apostolic Man Ministry.  Bobbie Shoemake (one of Tim's favorites) would sing along with our Youth Choir.  A man in our church would do a song while playing the acoustic guitar, and finally, a young lady would sing our favorite hymn......."I Come To The Garden Alone."  There......it was all done.  We had picked out what he would wear, chose dates, who would speak and sing, on and on and on.  That morning I had fed him breakfast, by late afternoon I was planning his funeral.......ironic.

We were starting to feel it now, the grief, the overwhelm.  I checked my watch it was still business hours and I felt like the girls and I needed some medicinal assistance to help us sleep.  I picked up the phone and dialed Tim's Doctor's office and asked to speak to Dr. Thacker.  He came on the line and I hesitantly told him that Tim had committed suicide.  I will never forget the gasp that came from him.  He had treated Tim for over seven years, this had to be difficult for him as well.  He readily prescribed us some medication to help us cope and sleep.

Finally, people began to leave.  I will forever be grateful to the Wileys who invited us to come and spend the night at their house that night.  There was no way on earth I could have slept in the house where he took his life that night.  I readily agreed since family members would not be arriving until the next day.

I quickly packed but was concerned about the condition of my home as I would be hosting many people in the following days.  Even in the midst of crisis I was still anal about the cleanliness and order of my home.  I left the house that day with several ladies staying behind to clean and prepare our home for visitors.  I will never forget the selflessness of these precious ladies.  And then, I left, to spend the first of many nights alone, without Tim at my side.