And boy howdy did I pray! I prayed like never before, turned into a virtual powerhouse of prayer overnight. I wanted him to be older, fiftyish. Why? Because I wanted to be this man's world, the center of his universe. And of course, his children must all be grown and out of the house for that to happen. He needed to be well established, not rich, but slightly wealthy.......to support my ROSS and shoe habit of course. I made a bargain with God, (I don't suggest it) telling Him that I would do thus and so if He, in turn, would point me in the direction of A MAN!
It's amazing how many desperate men there are out there. I talked to a couple of men online who started talking matrimony before I could even memorize their email addresses.......strange. I prayed harder. "God, there are so many weird men out there, please show me the one that you want me to have!" By the next day I believed that God had given me an answer.
An old friend from another state texted me out of the blue and asked me if I would be interested in going to their Valentines Banquet with a fellow from their church. This was my answer from God! I just knew it! "Yes" I said, "I would love to meet him of course before we go out on a date." (no duh) So, I began to text back and forth with this man, who met all of the above criteria I might add. We eventually progressed from texts to phone calls. I was sucked in by his charm and when he told me that he loved me after only a week of talking on the phone, I bought it hook, line and sinker. Dumb........I know. What is wrong with men?
After a couple of weeks of telephone conversations we began to plan to meet one another. It seemed the right thing to do since he was already declaring his love for me and talking marriage, the next obvious step seemed to be to actually meet. I kept my plans private. Some may not understand how I could be so hasty.....they obviously did not know that this was an answer from God. Right.
I picked him up from the airport and that was it. I was smitten by his good looks and southern charm. He was attentive to me, seemingly in tune with my every thought. He made me feel beautiful, special, important. We spent the next day in Monterey and Carmel. While in Carmel, we walked out onto an observation deck to enjoy the incredible view of the cresting waves. As we stood there I noticed movement. All at once I turned to find him on one knee, reaching for my hand! And there, on his knee, with a group of about thirty Asian men snapping pictures with their cameras and eavesdropping, he told me that he loved me and asked me to marry him!!
What? This wasn't happening! My mind raced, I was terrified! In the back of my mind a voice yelled "NO! NO! Something is not right here." But my mind was yelling WAY louder, "YES! YES! He's hot!" I hesitated somehow knowing deep down that this was insanity. If he had been holding out a humongous diamond ring in my direction my hesitation would have been a lot briefer, but, seeing as how there was no ring, I hesitated for all of a few seconds, and then, I heard coming out of my mouth as if of it's own volition, the word........"yes." WHAT??
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Sorrow, Grief and Unexplained Peace
I felt at home in Modesto California, back in my hometown, surrounded by family and friends, yet I still felt lonely and displaced. One positive thing born of this whole sordid, awful affair was that the Army had honorably discharged Zack, and he and his wife were in the process of moving to Modesto to be with me. That was a huge relief. To add to the joy of being near my son was the fact that he and his wife were expecting their first child and my first grand baby! I missed my daughter Kendra, but knew that she and I were both making the right decisions for our lives.
The house I purchased was a large two story, four bedroom, three bath home complete with a diving pool in the backyard. It was very, very nice and I had made a real bargain in it's purchase. It was big though, a little too big. Haley and I would lay in my bed together every night, hold hands and pray. I still missed Tim terribly and was so very lonely, I cried myself to sleep most nights. One night shortly after I arrived I lay in bed, tears seeping from the corners of my eyes as I once again asked God to deliver me from this searing grief. I remember actually putting my hands to my chest and making a motion as if to reach into my chest and pull out the terrible heartache that lay there. Then, I reached my arms up to God, holding that heartache out to Him and told Him, "God, here, you take this burden. I don't want it anymore. I can't bear it." And once again, I reminded God of His promises to His children and reminded Him of His Word. Finally, at peace, I fell asleep.
I remember the next morning awakening to the sun shining in through the window blinds. I felt lighter somehow, more rested and at peace. I put my feet on the floor and stood up. For the first time in weeks I was not trembling from head to toe. I was calm and in control of my faculties. It felt so wonderful to have a semblance of normalcy. From that day forward it seemed that the Lord began to heal me from the inside out. I had, and still do have moments of intense grief. I have to control my mind, keep it from pondering too long on Tim's final moments, about what he was thinking or doing in the minutes before he pulled that trigger. We are all haunted by the "what ifs" that I have since come to understand are in truth, irrelevant. I even went thru a time where I was absolutely giddy with happiness and excitement for the future, I felt guilty about that! One day I was driving home from taking Haley to school and I was so happy that I just started to laugh hysterically. Was I losing my mind? I asked God to forgive me, told Him I shouldn't feel this happy, it didn't make any sense. But God, in that still, small way that He has spoke to me and reminded me that His peace is a peace that passes all understanding. I couldn't understand it, I didn't NEED to understand it.
We settled into our lives in Modesto. Haley adjusted to her school and we were both in love with our church, enjoying the healing presence of God. I began to ponder my life and what I would do with it. I knew that one day I would write a book about my experiences, but what was I to do to make Haley and I a living? Taking a portion of the money from the life insurance policies I decided to go to school for something that had been of interest to me for some time. I paid my tuition in cash and signed up for a three month training course for Esthetics (skincare). I enjoyed my time at the school and the hectic pace of life helped to further occupy my mind and heal my wounds, but I was lonely, I wanted to be married. I discovered rather quickly that I do not enjoy the single life. And so, I began to pray in earnest for a husband.
The house I purchased was a large two story, four bedroom, three bath home complete with a diving pool in the backyard. It was very, very nice and I had made a real bargain in it's purchase. It was big though, a little too big. Haley and I would lay in my bed together every night, hold hands and pray. I still missed Tim terribly and was so very lonely, I cried myself to sleep most nights. One night shortly after I arrived I lay in bed, tears seeping from the corners of my eyes as I once again asked God to deliver me from this searing grief. I remember actually putting my hands to my chest and making a motion as if to reach into my chest and pull out the terrible heartache that lay there. Then, I reached my arms up to God, holding that heartache out to Him and told Him, "God, here, you take this burden. I don't want it anymore. I can't bear it." And once again, I reminded God of His promises to His children and reminded Him of His Word. Finally, at peace, I fell asleep.
I remember the next morning awakening to the sun shining in through the window blinds. I felt lighter somehow, more rested and at peace. I put my feet on the floor and stood up. For the first time in weeks I was not trembling from head to toe. I was calm and in control of my faculties. It felt so wonderful to have a semblance of normalcy. From that day forward it seemed that the Lord began to heal me from the inside out. I had, and still do have moments of intense grief. I have to control my mind, keep it from pondering too long on Tim's final moments, about what he was thinking or doing in the minutes before he pulled that trigger. We are all haunted by the "what ifs" that I have since come to understand are in truth, irrelevant. I even went thru a time where I was absolutely giddy with happiness and excitement for the future, I felt guilty about that! One day I was driving home from taking Haley to school and I was so happy that I just started to laugh hysterically. Was I losing my mind? I asked God to forgive me, told Him I shouldn't feel this happy, it didn't make any sense. But God, in that still, small way that He has spoke to me and reminded me that His peace is a peace that passes all understanding. I couldn't understand it, I didn't NEED to understand it.
We settled into our lives in Modesto. Haley adjusted to her school and we were both in love with our church, enjoying the healing presence of God. I began to ponder my life and what I would do with it. I knew that one day I would write a book about my experiences, but what was I to do to make Haley and I a living? Taking a portion of the money from the life insurance policies I decided to go to school for something that had been of interest to me for some time. I paid my tuition in cash and signed up for a three month training course for Esthetics (skincare). I enjoyed my time at the school and the hectic pace of life helped to further occupy my mind and heal my wounds, but I was lonely, I wanted to be married. I discovered rather quickly that I do not enjoy the single life. And so, I began to pray in earnest for a husband.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Pulled Up By The Roots
That was not the last time that I lay in the spot where he had died and wept, and certainly not the last time I felt anger towards Tim for what he had done. I was angry that he had not given God and hope a chance. Some say that suicide is the most selfish act that a person can commit. I agree in certain circumstances, however, not in this case. I knew my husband and I knew how he thought. There is no doubt in my mind that he was under the impression that he had failed his church, his family and that he had lost his ministry. These things meant the world to him. He felt that everyone would be better of without him. He knew that our children and I would be well provided for with the Insurance policies that were in place, and so, he made the decision to take his own life. It was not selfishness, but rather desperation. I was not sorry for myself, I was angry for my children, our saints and Tim's mother. The only greater pain I can imagine would be to lose a child in this manner. I could not comprehend what she must be going through.
The nights were the hardest. I would toss and turn hugging his pillow to my chest and praying for God to take me while I slept. I would go into our closet and bury my face in his suits and dress shirts that still smelled of him, of his cologne. I longed to touch him, to hear his voice. I cannot explain to you how much I longed to just touch him one last time, knowing that I would never touch him again. To this day I can clearly hear his voice and see his facial expressions in my mind.. And then there were the mornings when I would awaken trembling so badly I could hardly hold my coffee cup.
It was August and it was warm. I took to going outside and laying on my back on our front lawn until late into the night, every night. I just could not bear to be in the house any longer. I would get Haley to bed and then I would go outside and lay there, sometimes until midnight or after, staring up at the stars and talking to God. I was not afraid to be outside alone so late, I didn't care, my life had become very, very small.
I decided to purchase a puppy. Tim and I had always wanted a Boston Terrier, so I went with my girls to the mall and bought myself a Boston Terrier pup that I named Bella. She slept with me every night and required much attention and potty training which helped occupy my mind. She and I spent many nights out on my front lawn. Our neighbors would drive by and see me lying flat on my back staring up at the stars completely motionless, they must have thought I had lost my mind along with losing my husband.
The two to three weeks that Haley and I lived in that house were pure an unadulterated hell. I have never, nor have I since experienced such emotional pain. To add to the pain, I received a very disturbing phone call approximately two weeks after Tim died. As I have previously touched on, Tim's childhood was very troubled, with much abuse at the hands of his father. Richard McCary had spent time in prison on at least two occasions for crimes against children, and at the time of Tim's death, he had not spoken to his father in at least five years. It was too emotionally painful for Tim to have a meaningful relationship with his dad.
His father travelled from Los Angeles to attend Tim's funeral. As you can imagine, he was heartbroken, and although there was certainly no love lost in my heart for Richard, I still felt badly for him, knowing that extreme guilt plagued him. Almost two weeks exactly after Tim's death, his father, Richard McCary, committed suicide by taking an overdose of painkillers. For some reason that news sent me right over the edge! How much pain and tragedy could one family bear? Tim's brothers had lost him in a horrific manner and now they had lost their father in the same way! It was too much!
I counted the days until I could get out of that house. I felt like I could no longer breath and deep in my heart I knew that I could not begin to heal until I was gone. I would drive around our neighborhood and the area of town where we did a lot of our shopping and pass by restaurants that we frequented on a regular basis, everywhere I went brought memories of Tim. Often I would have to pull over to the side of the road until the pain and anguish subsided. There is one restaurant in particular that brought back pitiful memories for me. Just a few weeks before Tim died we had gone out to dinner with our girls to On The Border. The restaurant was in a shopping center near our home, a place where we went to shop and eat on a regular basis. On this particular evening after we had eaten we prepared to leave. For some reason that I do not recall we had arrived at the restaurant in two separate cars. The girls and I were going to go do a little shopping while Tim returned home. As we were getting into our cars Tim asked me how to get home. I remember laughing and saying "what?" He repeated the question, "How do I get home from here?" I said, "Are you serious? You don't know how to get home from here?" I thought he was joking. He looked at me then and had the most pitiful, confused, frustrated look in his eyes and said, "No, I don't, can you tell me how to get home?" Deeply, deeply disturbed I explained to him how to drive home to the area that we had lived in for over ten years.
I worked like a madwoman and packed our whole house entirely by myself. Don't misunderstand me, people had offered to help, but I wanted to, needed to be alone. I was completely exhausted both mentally and physically. I threw things away and gave things away that I probably should not have, but I was too emotionally distraught to make rational decisions. The original plan was that Haley and I would drive to California, but when the time came, I was in no condition to make the trip. My mother ended up flying out to Arizona to drive us. I had made arrangements for a moving company to move our belongings into the home that I had purchased in Modesto, they were to follow us about a week later. And so, on September the eleventh, 2009, a day when our Nation mourned the death of over three thousand souls in New York City, I mourned my own 9/11.
We loaded as much as we could into my SUV, including our three cats and new puppy Bella. Charcoal had already traveled to California with my brother in law after the funeral. We were a ragtag crew as we set out on our journey that day. Wounded and battle weary we were a sight to behold, my cats were even traumatized and confused and my heart went out to them. As we pulled out of the driveway of 2956 N. Meadow Lane in Avondale Arizona on that hot September day, I literally felt like I was leaving a part of me in the house where Tim died. I was leaving love, laughter, memories, Christmases, birthdays, and yes, even tears and tragedy. As we drove down the street, away from our home, Haley tried to turn around and look back, tears streaming down her face. "Don't look back Haley" I said, "Just don't look back." She didn't and neither did I.
The nights were the hardest. I would toss and turn hugging his pillow to my chest and praying for God to take me while I slept. I would go into our closet and bury my face in his suits and dress shirts that still smelled of him, of his cologne. I longed to touch him, to hear his voice. I cannot explain to you how much I longed to just touch him one last time, knowing that I would never touch him again. To this day I can clearly hear his voice and see his facial expressions in my mind.. And then there were the mornings when I would awaken trembling so badly I could hardly hold my coffee cup.
It was August and it was warm. I took to going outside and laying on my back on our front lawn until late into the night, every night. I just could not bear to be in the house any longer. I would get Haley to bed and then I would go outside and lay there, sometimes until midnight or after, staring up at the stars and talking to God. I was not afraid to be outside alone so late, I didn't care, my life had become very, very small.
I decided to purchase a puppy. Tim and I had always wanted a Boston Terrier, so I went with my girls to the mall and bought myself a Boston Terrier pup that I named Bella. She slept with me every night and required much attention and potty training which helped occupy my mind. She and I spent many nights out on my front lawn. Our neighbors would drive by and see me lying flat on my back staring up at the stars completely motionless, they must have thought I had lost my mind along with losing my husband.
The two to three weeks that Haley and I lived in that house were pure an unadulterated hell. I have never, nor have I since experienced such emotional pain. To add to the pain, I received a very disturbing phone call approximately two weeks after Tim died. As I have previously touched on, Tim's childhood was very troubled, with much abuse at the hands of his father. Richard McCary had spent time in prison on at least two occasions for crimes against children, and at the time of Tim's death, he had not spoken to his father in at least five years. It was too emotionally painful for Tim to have a meaningful relationship with his dad.
His father travelled from Los Angeles to attend Tim's funeral. As you can imagine, he was heartbroken, and although there was certainly no love lost in my heart for Richard, I still felt badly for him, knowing that extreme guilt plagued him. Almost two weeks exactly after Tim's death, his father, Richard McCary, committed suicide by taking an overdose of painkillers. For some reason that news sent me right over the edge! How much pain and tragedy could one family bear? Tim's brothers had lost him in a horrific manner and now they had lost their father in the same way! It was too much!
I counted the days until I could get out of that house. I felt like I could no longer breath and deep in my heart I knew that I could not begin to heal until I was gone. I would drive around our neighborhood and the area of town where we did a lot of our shopping and pass by restaurants that we frequented on a regular basis, everywhere I went brought memories of Tim. Often I would have to pull over to the side of the road until the pain and anguish subsided. There is one restaurant in particular that brought back pitiful memories for me. Just a few weeks before Tim died we had gone out to dinner with our girls to On The Border. The restaurant was in a shopping center near our home, a place where we went to shop and eat on a regular basis. On this particular evening after we had eaten we prepared to leave. For some reason that I do not recall we had arrived at the restaurant in two separate cars. The girls and I were going to go do a little shopping while Tim returned home. As we were getting into our cars Tim asked me how to get home. I remember laughing and saying "what?" He repeated the question, "How do I get home from here?" I said, "Are you serious? You don't know how to get home from here?" I thought he was joking. He looked at me then and had the most pitiful, confused, frustrated look in his eyes and said, "No, I don't, can you tell me how to get home?" Deeply, deeply disturbed I explained to him how to drive home to the area that we had lived in for over ten years.
I worked like a madwoman and packed our whole house entirely by myself. Don't misunderstand me, people had offered to help, but I wanted to, needed to be alone. I was completely exhausted both mentally and physically. I threw things away and gave things away that I probably should not have, but I was too emotionally distraught to make rational decisions. The original plan was that Haley and I would drive to California, but when the time came, I was in no condition to make the trip. My mother ended up flying out to Arizona to drive us. I had made arrangements for a moving company to move our belongings into the home that I had purchased in Modesto, they were to follow us about a week later. And so, on September the eleventh, 2009, a day when our Nation mourned the death of over three thousand souls in New York City, I mourned my own 9/11.
We loaded as much as we could into my SUV, including our three cats and new puppy Bella. Charcoal had already traveled to California with my brother in law after the funeral. We were a ragtag crew as we set out on our journey that day. Wounded and battle weary we were a sight to behold, my cats were even traumatized and confused and my heart went out to them. As we pulled out of the driveway of 2956 N. Meadow Lane in Avondale Arizona on that hot September day, I literally felt like I was leaving a part of me in the house where Tim died. I was leaving love, laughter, memories, Christmases, birthdays, and yes, even tears and tragedy. As we drove down the street, away from our home, Haley tried to turn around and look back, tears streaming down her face. "Don't look back Haley" I said, "Just don't look back." She didn't and neither did I.
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Ashes to Ashes, Dust To Dust
We boarded the plane for California. Tim's body was already there awaiting his burial service. I had so much to think about. Life Insurance policies to claim, buying a home for Haley and I in Modesto, packing and selling our home in Avondale.......so much and still trying to process the fact that Tim was gone forever. I had been married from the time I was sixteen years old! I had gone from my parents home to a home with Tim. I had no clue what it was like to be completely on my own. Thankfully, Tim had left me well taken care of with a life insurance policy and several policies through the UPCI. Money was the least of my worries and for that I am grateful.
Our plan was to stay in California for approximately two weeks. My goal was to take that time to look for houses and take care of business there. I wanted to be alone. I had been surrounded by so many people that I wanted to stay somewhere where Haley and I could have total privacy, so, I got us a hotel room. Not very economical I know, but I needed that. I had begun to awaken in the morning shaking violently from head to toe. It was comparable to when you have a fever accompanied by chills. My teeth would chatter and my knees literally knocked together. This would go on for weeks to the point that I was unable to write, to even sign my name was a chore!
I can honestly say that the pure, true, heart wrenching grief had yet to begin. That would come later and it would blindside me like a diesel truck. I never knew that someone could feel that much grief. I will elaborate as my story continues.
The day of Tim's burial drew near. A couple of days before the burial I received a call from a concerned family member of Tim's. Tim's mother wished to have the casket open at the burial service. The plan was to have a mini funeral service in the chapel for those who had been unable to travel to Arizona for the funeral. I was completely in support of this, however I was taken aback by the thought that the casket would be reopened. I completely understood her reasoning and why she would want it to be opened, but I felt like my kids and I could not bear going through all of that for a second time. We opted to have a viewing of Tim's body at the cemetery chapel the night before the burial service, my children and I did not attend.
The day of the burial arrived and the little chapel was filled to capacity. It was a lovely service with Tim's cousin singing a song and his uncle, Charles Combs speaking, and then, my family and I got into a black limousine and we were driven to the spot on the cemetery grounds where Tim would find his final resting place. I can remember thinking as we drove that I had never in a million years dreamed that I would be the one riding in a funeral procession. At the gravesite, Tim's cousins performed a duet of the song "I Can Only Imagine" to perfection, accompanied by an acoustic guitar. I sat with my hands raised to the heavens, for surely, we here on earth CAN only imagine what it must be like to be with Him.
We completed our stay with me having spent much time on the telephone with the Social Security Administration and our Life Insurance Companies making sure everything was in proper order. And then, it was time to return home. I looked forward to it with both dread AND anticipation. I wanted to be back home, but I was also terrified to be there alone in the house where Tim had taken his own life. There was nothing I could do about it however, Haley had to get back to school and I had to pack and prepare for our move. By this time in my life, I was an expert at surviving in the worst of situations. I was a seasoned veteran.
If my memory serves me correctly my daughter Kendra picked us up from the airport in Phoenix. We entered our house, it was as silent as a tomb. Haley and I sat huddled together, alone, on our couch in the den, and for the first time in two weeks Haley's floodgates of tears and emotion erupted. She sobbed and sobbed and wailed "I miss him!" over and over again. As a mother I felt completely helpless and frustrated. I was dealing with my own grief and had no clue as to how to help my daughter deal with hers. Finally, exhausted and spent Haley went to bed. I sat on the couch, staring at the spot where his chair had once been. At some point I got up and lay down on the carpet, burying my face in the bloodstain, still visible, and screamed out my anguish and grief. I beat the floor, for the first time, angry at Tim.
Our plan was to stay in California for approximately two weeks. My goal was to take that time to look for houses and take care of business there. I wanted to be alone. I had been surrounded by so many people that I wanted to stay somewhere where Haley and I could have total privacy, so, I got us a hotel room. Not very economical I know, but I needed that. I had begun to awaken in the morning shaking violently from head to toe. It was comparable to when you have a fever accompanied by chills. My teeth would chatter and my knees literally knocked together. This would go on for weeks to the point that I was unable to write, to even sign my name was a chore!
I can honestly say that the pure, true, heart wrenching grief had yet to begin. That would come later and it would blindside me like a diesel truck. I never knew that someone could feel that much grief. I will elaborate as my story continues.
The day of Tim's burial drew near. A couple of days before the burial I received a call from a concerned family member of Tim's. Tim's mother wished to have the casket open at the burial service. The plan was to have a mini funeral service in the chapel for those who had been unable to travel to Arizona for the funeral. I was completely in support of this, however I was taken aback by the thought that the casket would be reopened. I completely understood her reasoning and why she would want it to be opened, but I felt like my kids and I could not bear going through all of that for a second time. We opted to have a viewing of Tim's body at the cemetery chapel the night before the burial service, my children and I did not attend.
The day of the burial arrived and the little chapel was filled to capacity. It was a lovely service with Tim's cousin singing a song and his uncle, Charles Combs speaking, and then, my family and I got into a black limousine and we were driven to the spot on the cemetery grounds where Tim would find his final resting place. I can remember thinking as we drove that I had never in a million years dreamed that I would be the one riding in a funeral procession. At the gravesite, Tim's cousins performed a duet of the song "I Can Only Imagine" to perfection, accompanied by an acoustic guitar. I sat with my hands raised to the heavens, for surely, we here on earth CAN only imagine what it must be like to be with Him.
We completed our stay with me having spent much time on the telephone with the Social Security Administration and our Life Insurance Companies making sure everything was in proper order. And then, it was time to return home. I looked forward to it with both dread AND anticipation. I wanted to be back home, but I was also terrified to be there alone in the house where Tim had taken his own life. There was nothing I could do about it however, Haley had to get back to school and I had to pack and prepare for our move. By this time in my life, I was an expert at surviving in the worst of situations. I was a seasoned veteran.
If my memory serves me correctly my daughter Kendra picked us up from the airport in Phoenix. We entered our house, it was as silent as a tomb. Haley and I sat huddled together, alone, on our couch in the den, and for the first time in two weeks Haley's floodgates of tears and emotion erupted. She sobbed and sobbed and wailed "I miss him!" over and over again. As a mother I felt completely helpless and frustrated. I was dealing with my own grief and had no clue as to how to help my daughter deal with hers. Finally, exhausted and spent Haley went to bed. I sat on the couch, staring at the spot where his chair had once been. At some point I got up and lay down on the carpet, burying my face in the bloodstain, still visible, and screamed out my anguish and grief. I beat the floor, for the first time, angry at Tim.
Friday, August 26, 2011
Reading Glasses and Dog Tags
His viewing was completely overwhelming. I had never and have yet to see a viewing attended by that many people. The line started in our church lobby and never ended for at least two hours. I stood at the casket, amazed and humbled as each individual passed by. Some had travelled quite a distance to be there. At some point I recall my Pastor's wife, Sis. Keyes coming to me and telling me I needed to sit down and rest, take it easy. But I couldn't. I did what I always did, I smiled and shook hands, ever the diplomat.
He looked pretty good overall, although he was so very pale in his white shirt and tie, against that white satin, and his prematurely gray hair only added to his pallor. I wanted very little to go into the casket with him. I have alway been a little disturbed by people who send their loved ones off with a large amount of trinkets such as photos, letters, stuffed animals, etc. We, of all people should know that these things cannot be taken into eternity with our loved ones. I believe that little things like this are simply a comfort to the living, not the dead. So, I opted to place his favorite Bible in his hands along with a pair of his reading glasses. I felt like this would be especially comforting to our beloved saints who had teased Tim so many times about his numerous pairs of reading glasses. And the Bible, of course, was a must. He loved the Word.
I am sure that in boardrooms, restaurants, Starbuck's and kitchens all over America, people have taken it upon themselves to discuss the plight of Tim's soul. For many, I am sure, this subject is very "black and white." To me, however, I honestly do not know. I was contacted by two highly esteemed men of God on the day of Tim's death. Both men felt impressed to reassure me that Tim was at peace. They felt strongly that God in his infinite mercy would have taken Tim's mental illness into consideration and judged accordingly. God is, after all, a loving and just God. This is a delicate topic to be sure, and it is something that has plagued the minds of my children greatly the last two years, as you can imagine. Recently, my youngest daughter was particularly burdened with it. I explained to her that there is no way for us to know what has become of Tim's soul. That is not a load we are intended to carry, it is a load for God's very capable shoulders. It is of utmost importance that we concern ourselves with our own souls, not the souls of the dead. I reiterated to her that someday, when we get to heaven we will know, but once we see our Lord's sweet face, we will not care. And that is where I have left this dreadful subject, at the feet of Jesus.
If my memory serves me correctly Tim's viewing was on Monday and his funeral on Tuesday. I remember very little about the evening after the viewing. I do know that I was exhausted and relied heavily on Bro. Wiley and my family to take care of things. My main concern was for my children who were still walking around in a daze, we all were. I had taken time however to ponder the futures of Haley and I. At the time Kendra had chosen to move in with her future sister in law to be closer to her job. She had an excellent job at a bank in Scottsdale. She was also getting very close to an engagement to her boyfriend. I knew she would not want to move, so, I made a very difficult decision and gave Kendra the option to either move with me, or remain in Phoenix. After much thought and agonizing, she decided to stay.
The day of the funeral dawned clear and hot, a typical Arizona August. As I was doing my hair in our bathroom my sister came in and informed me that someone had called and wanted me to know that my children and I were free to speak a few words during the service if we wanted to. Hesitant, unsure if I could do it, I grabbed a pen and pad and jotted down a few notes just in case. On our way out the door, I spotted a pair of Tim's reading glasses sitting on his desk exactly where he had left them, on a whim, I grabbed them and ran out the door.
My children and I arrived shortly before the funeral was scheduled to begin. They ushered us into the church thru a side door and my breath caught in my throat. The church was completely filled, with people standing in the lobby and along the walls down the side of the sanctuary. It was completely overwhelming. The amount of floral arrangements was staggering with the entire altar area filled and many arrangements in the foyer due to a lack of space. His arrangement from the children and I was draped across the foot of his casket. In the center sat a resin figurine of a lion lying next to a lamb. I had seen it at Hobby Lobby a few weeks earlier and it had really gotten my attention. When we ordered the arrangement I immediately knew that I wanted that figurine to sit directly in the center of it, so I had my sister take me to Hobby Lobby to purchase it.
They sat us on the front row and the service began. The Lord did not disappoint, his presence was there from the very beginning. The youth choir began to sing and the power of God fell. Our son Zack who had been away from the Lord for some time began to quake under the awesomeness of God. He finally stood to his feet, hands raised to the heavens and began to weep and cry out to God. His wife, standing next to him, was also overcome by the presence of God. And there, on that day, with the lifeless body of his father only feet away, my son found peace and forgiveness in the arms of our Savior.
My children spoke and then, it was my turn. I walked to the pulpit and addressed the congregation and said, "today, I am going to talk to you a little bit about my husband, Reverend Tim R. McCary, and I'm going to do it while wearing his glasses." At that, I perched his glasses low on my nose and began to eulogize the man who had been my soulmate for over twenty six years. I had the congregation alternating between laughter and tears, I don't know how I did it, but somehow, by the grace of God, I did.
The people filed by to pay their last respects. They kept coming, coming and coming, an endless tide of friends, saints and colleagues. And then, we were alone with him, the immediate family only. There were a couple of families who had strongly supported Tim and I until the end, people who were like family to us that I asked to stay. Aside from them, it was meant for immediate family only. Tim's mom became faint and ill, she collapsed. We helped her get to the pew and had her lie down. I was concerned that we would have to call for an ambulance. After a time, she recovered and was able to view his body and say goodbye. Finally, my children and I approached the casket. Zack bent over and sobbed, placing his dog tags in Tim's hands. Zack was overcome, lightheaded and made a quick exit. He could not bear anymore. My girl's wept over their daddy, kissing and caressing him. And lastly, it was my turn. I bent over him, forehead to forehead and kissed his lips. I whispered in his ear telling him things that will go to my own grave with me, looking at his face knowing that it would be the last time on this earth I would ever see it. I wanted to memorize his face, fearful the memory of it would fade with time. And then, it was time to close the casket. I remember my brother's in law on each side of me supporting me. They closed the lid slowly, I watched it intently the whole way down, my eyes focused on Tim's face. And as his face was finally hidden by that heavy wooden lid, an unearthly wail escaped my lips and my knees buckled under me one last time.
He looked pretty good overall, although he was so very pale in his white shirt and tie, against that white satin, and his prematurely gray hair only added to his pallor. I wanted very little to go into the casket with him. I have alway been a little disturbed by people who send their loved ones off with a large amount of trinkets such as photos, letters, stuffed animals, etc. We, of all people should know that these things cannot be taken into eternity with our loved ones. I believe that little things like this are simply a comfort to the living, not the dead. So, I opted to place his favorite Bible in his hands along with a pair of his reading glasses. I felt like this would be especially comforting to our beloved saints who had teased Tim so many times about his numerous pairs of reading glasses. And the Bible, of course, was a must. He loved the Word.
I am sure that in boardrooms, restaurants, Starbuck's and kitchens all over America, people have taken it upon themselves to discuss the plight of Tim's soul. For many, I am sure, this subject is very "black and white." To me, however, I honestly do not know. I was contacted by two highly esteemed men of God on the day of Tim's death. Both men felt impressed to reassure me that Tim was at peace. They felt strongly that God in his infinite mercy would have taken Tim's mental illness into consideration and judged accordingly. God is, after all, a loving and just God. This is a delicate topic to be sure, and it is something that has plagued the minds of my children greatly the last two years, as you can imagine. Recently, my youngest daughter was particularly burdened with it. I explained to her that there is no way for us to know what has become of Tim's soul. That is not a load we are intended to carry, it is a load for God's very capable shoulders. It is of utmost importance that we concern ourselves with our own souls, not the souls of the dead. I reiterated to her that someday, when we get to heaven we will know, but once we see our Lord's sweet face, we will not care. And that is where I have left this dreadful subject, at the feet of Jesus.
If my memory serves me correctly Tim's viewing was on Monday and his funeral on Tuesday. I remember very little about the evening after the viewing. I do know that I was exhausted and relied heavily on Bro. Wiley and my family to take care of things. My main concern was for my children who were still walking around in a daze, we all were. I had taken time however to ponder the futures of Haley and I. At the time Kendra had chosen to move in with her future sister in law to be closer to her job. She had an excellent job at a bank in Scottsdale. She was also getting very close to an engagement to her boyfriend. I knew she would not want to move, so, I made a very difficult decision and gave Kendra the option to either move with me, or remain in Phoenix. After much thought and agonizing, she decided to stay.
The day of the funeral dawned clear and hot, a typical Arizona August. As I was doing my hair in our bathroom my sister came in and informed me that someone had called and wanted me to know that my children and I were free to speak a few words during the service if we wanted to. Hesitant, unsure if I could do it, I grabbed a pen and pad and jotted down a few notes just in case. On our way out the door, I spotted a pair of Tim's reading glasses sitting on his desk exactly where he had left them, on a whim, I grabbed them and ran out the door.
My children and I arrived shortly before the funeral was scheduled to begin. They ushered us into the church thru a side door and my breath caught in my throat. The church was completely filled, with people standing in the lobby and along the walls down the side of the sanctuary. It was completely overwhelming. The amount of floral arrangements was staggering with the entire altar area filled and many arrangements in the foyer due to a lack of space. His arrangement from the children and I was draped across the foot of his casket. In the center sat a resin figurine of a lion lying next to a lamb. I had seen it at Hobby Lobby a few weeks earlier and it had really gotten my attention. When we ordered the arrangement I immediately knew that I wanted that figurine to sit directly in the center of it, so I had my sister take me to Hobby Lobby to purchase it.
They sat us on the front row and the service began. The Lord did not disappoint, his presence was there from the very beginning. The youth choir began to sing and the power of God fell. Our son Zack who had been away from the Lord for some time began to quake under the awesomeness of God. He finally stood to his feet, hands raised to the heavens and began to weep and cry out to God. His wife, standing next to him, was also overcome by the presence of God. And there, on that day, with the lifeless body of his father only feet away, my son found peace and forgiveness in the arms of our Savior.
My children spoke and then, it was my turn. I walked to the pulpit and addressed the congregation and said, "today, I am going to talk to you a little bit about my husband, Reverend Tim R. McCary, and I'm going to do it while wearing his glasses." At that, I perched his glasses low on my nose and began to eulogize the man who had been my soulmate for over twenty six years. I had the congregation alternating between laughter and tears, I don't know how I did it, but somehow, by the grace of God, I did.
The people filed by to pay their last respects. They kept coming, coming and coming, an endless tide of friends, saints and colleagues. And then, we were alone with him, the immediate family only. There were a couple of families who had strongly supported Tim and I until the end, people who were like family to us that I asked to stay. Aside from them, it was meant for immediate family only. Tim's mom became faint and ill, she collapsed. We helped her get to the pew and had her lie down. I was concerned that we would have to call for an ambulance. After a time, she recovered and was able to view his body and say goodbye. Finally, my children and I approached the casket. Zack bent over and sobbed, placing his dog tags in Tim's hands. Zack was overcome, lightheaded and made a quick exit. He could not bear anymore. My girl's wept over their daddy, kissing and caressing him. And lastly, it was my turn. I bent over him, forehead to forehead and kissed his lips. I whispered in his ear telling him things that will go to my own grave with me, looking at his face knowing that it would be the last time on this earth I would ever see it. I wanted to memorize his face, fearful the memory of it would fade with time. And then, it was time to close the casket. I remember my brother's in law on each side of me supporting me. They closed the lid slowly, I watched it intently the whole way down, my eyes focused on Tim's face. And as his face was finally hidden by that heavy wooden lid, an unearthly wail escaped my lips and my knees buckled under me one last time.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
The Word of God Speaks
I awakened in the morning disoriented. Have you ever done that? Awakened in a strange place and before you open your eyes you believe you are still in your own bed, in the familiarity of your own bedroom? Yet the smells and sounds are different and for a moment once you open your eyes you are confused and cannot remember where you are. That was my experience on that morning after Tim's death. I had slept moderately well due to the medication the Doctor had prescribed. I was fidgety though, anxious to get back home in spite of the fact that Tim had died there. I needed to stay busy, there was so much to do, to think about. I had a cup of coffee with the Wiley's, gathered my things together and returned home.
I do not recall when family members from out of town actually began to arrive, but I believe my parents, sister and my son Zack and his wife arrived the day after Tim's death. The Keslers also arrived in Arizona from New York at about this time. It was comforting to have them there.
We waited somewhat impatiently to hear back from David Hoyer, the funeral director with autopsy reports and I was anxious to see Tim's body. I believe by Saturday we got the "all clear" to go to the funeral home to see Tim. We also received a detailed report of the autopsy. The report explained a lot and answered questions I had about details surrounding his death. Apparently, the bullet entered Tim's brain and lodged there, which explained the very clean surroundings and lack of blood and brain matter on his chair. As Tim's head slumped forward following the gunshot, he bled heavily and the blood flowed down between his legs which accounted for the single large stain on the seat cushion of his chair. There was no exit wound. I was very thankful as this allowed us to have an open casket. Unfortunately, the high velocity of the bullet caved in the entire right side of Tim's head and face. Thank God I was not allowed to see him in that condition! The mortician did an absolutely wonderful job of reconstruction and no one noticed that there had been great trauma to his head.
The time finally came for us to go view the body. While at the funeral home we were to choose a casket and flower arrangements, etc. I was nervous but ready to get this very difficult task over with. And I just needed to see him. The Wiley's once again gave of themselves selflessly and picked up my children and I, along with my parents and my sister from our home in one of their church vans and drove us to the mortuary. I was nauseous the whole way. The drive seemed to take an eternity, but before long, we pulled into the driveway.
We were ushered into a lovely foyer with beautiful chandeliers and paintings on the walls. We waited for David to come and take me to Tim. I paced, wringing my hands, finally David came. I wanted to go in alone but Zack would not let me and in hindsight, that was very wise on his part. David escorted us to a large room off of the foyer. It was a room where funeral services are conducted. We entered from the back, and up at the front on a gurney lay my beloved, in a hospital gown, draped in a white sheet. We walked down the aisle timidly with Zack holding me tightly. When we finally reached him, an unearthly scream of anguish escaped my lips and my knees buckled. Zack held on tight and I finally gained my composure, and then, I wanted to touch him. I touched his face, his mouth, caressed his head. At one point David warned me to be gentle with his head, and that's when I saw it.........a small hole at his right temple covered in a bandage.
Kendra and Haley had slipped in and were crying. I needed to see more of him and for some reason I wanted to see his legs and feet. I began to pull the sheet off and my children tried to stop me. Determined, focused, I shook them off, told them to leave me alone. I removed the sheet and rubbed his legs, and finally, I bent down and kissed his feet. Romans 10:15 came to me then. "How beautiful are the feet of them that preach the gospel of peace, and bring glad tidings of good things!" He had brought the gospel to hungry people for many years, I never tired of his preaching. He had a way of seasoning the Word with suspense, vivid imagery and an uncanny humor. You never left without having learned something.
David took us to a meeting room and we sat down and began to discuss the viewing, funeral service, casket, flowers, etc. My plan was to fly Tim's body to Turlock California and have him buried there. That is where his mother and brothers live and I had already made the decision to move to California, so, I felt that would be best. We discussed the financial aspects of the funeral service and then, it was time to choose a casket. There were many lovely ones, but our eyes were immediately drawn to one in particular. It was cherry wood with carved, romanesque pillars running up the four corners with brass handles and a white satin lining. It was simple elegance. Tim loved cherry wood and was a huge fan of roman architecture and we knew that he would love it. We chose floral arrangements from the different family members, discussed payment and then, we left.........we left the cold dead body of my husband still lying on that gurney.
The rest of that day is somewhat of a blur, however I do remember that family continued to arrive. I believe we went shopping to find clothes to wear to the viewing and the funeral. For the first time in my life I did not want to go clothes shopping which was certainly out of character, and finding that perfect "little black dress" held absolutely no appeal at all for me.
I do not recall when family members from out of town actually began to arrive, but I believe my parents, sister and my son Zack and his wife arrived the day after Tim's death. The Keslers also arrived in Arizona from New York at about this time. It was comforting to have them there.
We waited somewhat impatiently to hear back from David Hoyer, the funeral director with autopsy reports and I was anxious to see Tim's body. I believe by Saturday we got the "all clear" to go to the funeral home to see Tim. We also received a detailed report of the autopsy. The report explained a lot and answered questions I had about details surrounding his death. Apparently, the bullet entered Tim's brain and lodged there, which explained the very clean surroundings and lack of blood and brain matter on his chair. As Tim's head slumped forward following the gunshot, he bled heavily and the blood flowed down between his legs which accounted for the single large stain on the seat cushion of his chair. There was no exit wound. I was very thankful as this allowed us to have an open casket. Unfortunately, the high velocity of the bullet caved in the entire right side of Tim's head and face. Thank God I was not allowed to see him in that condition! The mortician did an absolutely wonderful job of reconstruction and no one noticed that there had been great trauma to his head.
The time finally came for us to go view the body. While at the funeral home we were to choose a casket and flower arrangements, etc. I was nervous but ready to get this very difficult task over with. And I just needed to see him. The Wiley's once again gave of themselves selflessly and picked up my children and I, along with my parents and my sister from our home in one of their church vans and drove us to the mortuary. I was nauseous the whole way. The drive seemed to take an eternity, but before long, we pulled into the driveway.
We were ushered into a lovely foyer with beautiful chandeliers and paintings on the walls. We waited for David to come and take me to Tim. I paced, wringing my hands, finally David came. I wanted to go in alone but Zack would not let me and in hindsight, that was very wise on his part. David escorted us to a large room off of the foyer. It was a room where funeral services are conducted. We entered from the back, and up at the front on a gurney lay my beloved, in a hospital gown, draped in a white sheet. We walked down the aisle timidly with Zack holding me tightly. When we finally reached him, an unearthly scream of anguish escaped my lips and my knees buckled. Zack held on tight and I finally gained my composure, and then, I wanted to touch him. I touched his face, his mouth, caressed his head. At one point David warned me to be gentle with his head, and that's when I saw it.........a small hole at his right temple covered in a bandage.
Kendra and Haley had slipped in and were crying. I needed to see more of him and for some reason I wanted to see his legs and feet. I began to pull the sheet off and my children tried to stop me. Determined, focused, I shook them off, told them to leave me alone. I removed the sheet and rubbed his legs, and finally, I bent down and kissed his feet. Romans 10:15 came to me then. "How beautiful are the feet of them that preach the gospel of peace, and bring glad tidings of good things!" He had brought the gospel to hungry people for many years, I never tired of his preaching. He had a way of seasoning the Word with suspense, vivid imagery and an uncanny humor. You never left without having learned something.
David took us to a meeting room and we sat down and began to discuss the viewing, funeral service, casket, flowers, etc. My plan was to fly Tim's body to Turlock California and have him buried there. That is where his mother and brothers live and I had already made the decision to move to California, so, I felt that would be best. We discussed the financial aspects of the funeral service and then, it was time to choose a casket. There were many lovely ones, but our eyes were immediately drawn to one in particular. It was cherry wood with carved, romanesque pillars running up the four corners with brass handles and a white satin lining. It was simple elegance. Tim loved cherry wood and was a huge fan of roman architecture and we knew that he would love it. We chose floral arrangements from the different family members, discussed payment and then, we left.........we left the cold dead body of my husband still lying on that gurney.
The rest of that day is somewhat of a blur, however I do remember that family continued to arrive. I believe we went shopping to find clothes to wear to the viewing and the funeral. For the first time in my life I did not want to go clothes shopping which was certainly out of character, and finding that perfect "little black dress" held absolutely no appeal at all for me.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
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.
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.
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