oldsunbird

"I have been more outrageous and more alone and more courageous than the world has known. Passerby, my heart is like your own."

This Time of Evening

7:30 PM and the sun has not set, though it’s weaker and covers only parts of trees, a spot on the redwood fence and a bit of grass.  Shadows gradually overtake the yard and soon it will be completely dark.

I have always loved this time of evening when the day is winding down, people go inside and the streets are almost empty.  But the last thirteen years (it’ll be 13 in August), this time of day fills me with sadness.

Thirteen years ago, Scott, my youngest son, shot himself in his apartment in K.C.  He was my best friend, and, for some reason I don’t understand, it’s this time of evening I miss him most.  His death was sudden, a shock and he left no note of explanation.

He’d been hospitalized for suicidal thoughts weeks before but was discharged and seemed to be okay.  Two days before he died, on the phone, he talked of future plans.  My husband and I wanted him to come back to Springfield to live.  He found a house he liked but said he needed to return to KC to keep a dental appointment.  He never came back.

I felt, and still feel, I let him down.  I should have known, I could have done something to save him.  I vowed to myself I’d pay more attention in the future, to be alert, and to relate to everyone as if I would never see them again.   People I loved and cared about, even strangers, became more precious to me.  I thought about how precious life is, and what a gift and how we must make the most of it while we’re here.   But as the years have gone by and I’ve become involved with other matters–death of another son, my husband’s death, my illnesses, even everyday mundane matters–that foresight has been dulled.  Appreciation and joy for the beauty of life mostly eludes me.  I take my loved ones for granted.  Only nature touches me so that I really feel it in my soul.  A sad state of affairs.

I want to change before it’s too late; I even know some ways to begin; I’m so focused on my physical problems and my fear of dying, I’m distracted from my resolve.  But I’ll keep trying.  I so want to open the door to my heart.

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11 thoughts on “This Time of Evening

  1. Dear sweet writer, so much you have been through. Would have broken many others but you are here and meant to be. The birds, butterflies, trees and flowers are your gifts. You see them and the beauty in nature and your heart has some ease. I recall a quote, Nature is God’s work of art. I feel that way and I know you do too. May the beauty of nature continue to bring peace to your deserving heart. Wishing I could help more. Thinking of you. Gina

    • Gina, You are a sweet and giving soul. Thank you so much for your kind & thoughtful words. They’ve touched my heart. And you’ve helped more than you know. Peace and blessings to you dear one. Mary

  2. Mary, I am so very sorry. The pain I read in these words is heart breaking. I cannot imagine losing a child. My thoughts and prayers are with you

  3. I see and feel the pain in this post. So sorry for your losses. Know we are here, and we are thinking of you! BIG, GI-NORMOUS HUGS! Donna

    • Oh my goodness, I’m overwhelmed at the outpouring of support. I wanted to share my journey into old age and have received so much more. I appreciate your kindness and support, Donna. You, too, are one of God’s special creatures. We are all here on this earth doing our best, learning from one another, and hopefully evolving into better beings. Gratitude and blessings to you. Mary

  4. “Evolving into better things” I like that, a lot! Hugs! D.

  5. Your post brought tears for so many reasons. I’ve been to that place of wanting all the pain to end and I could have done it. No one would have been the wiser. We never know the thoughts, intentions or plans of another’s.

    I do hope you can forgive yourself…it is okay to forgive yourself and the best gift you could give yourself in light of this heartache. We do get to places in our lives where we feel no one can help us. It is a dire, dark place where the lies circle round and clang like church bells in our heads.

    It is this kind of grief and regret I would have left behind and suicide would have solved nothing. But when we begin to talk, share, courageously taking the first step of telling our stories we find we’re not all that different. Pain is pain and no matter what we’ve been through someone else has already gone through it and made it to the other side. These noble souls are my heroes.

    You have a kind, noble soul. If you had knowledge or insight at the time you would have intervened, I know this for sure. I am glad you followed my blog so I could make your acquaintance. I too look at everyone around me as though they may not be here tomorrow and that is why I wish everyone the best, today and always and sign my name as I do.

    Blessings, Love & Peace,
    RH

    • Thank you so much! I appreciate your sharing. I’m so impressed by your determination and courage. Blessings to you.

    • Resilient Heart, I am so touched by your response to my post about my son’s suicide. Thank you so much for your own sharing. I’m very glad you decided it was not for you. The world is blessed to have you in it. And so am I! Love & hugs, Mary

  6. You’re so very welcome, the good you see in me is simply a reflection of your own light and resilient heart. 🙂

    Best to you – today & always.

    Blessings, Love & Peace,
    RH

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