My grandfather committed suicide yesterday. He hung himself in his kitchen. His wife, my grandma, died three weeks ago.
I found out while comparing prices of edamame in the frozen food section. I nearly collapsed. I had to sit down. My mom said "just keep shopping." And i did. I filled my cart. Shock riding in tsunami waves through me.
As soon as i could i called shane. He is the one i always go to. He is my shoulder to lean on. No matter what.
My grandfather committed suicide.
This is so much worse than my grandma passing away. This is heartbreak and anger and sadness and guilt and remorse and sorrow and horror. This is not being able to wipe the image of him, asphyxiated, rope or whatever around his neck. I can't get that out of my head. It is stuck there.
And this is complicated for me. This suicide business. I keep thinking i can't believe i almost did this to my children. To shane. My god they never would have gotten over it. I was so greedy. Depression makes you a narcissist. Not able to see past your own despair. Your longing for relief destroys your family.
I told my kids he died in his sleep. I couldn't face telling them. I know i have to tell them the truth. And i will. But it will be so hard for them. Not because of the loss of their great-grandpa. Because of their fear of losing me. I need to tell them i will never do that again. I will ask for help when i need it. I will do that for the rest of my life.
Parker asked me "did grandpa die of sadness?" And he did. I think. How will i ever know. He didn't leave us a note which seems so cruel. No final goodbye. Nothing but this thing i'm feeling inside. This place i don't want to be.
He was sad on friday night. He cried at the end of his driveway when my dad tried to take him out for dinner. A ritual that they had with my grandma for many years. He couldn't do it without her. I understand that he must have been lost in his loneliness. I can imagine and i know that feeling of not being able to see a future without pain. I sympathize. In that way i am happy for him that his pain has ended and hopefully he is somewhere with my grandma and they are free from all their worldly pain and sorrow.
I need to hold that thought. I need to put that picture in my head.
On saturday my sister and her kids visited with him and he was happy. My best guess is that he had made his plan. He knew on saturday what he was going to do sometime between sunday night and monday morning. He knew he was going to use his skills as an engineer to hang himself in his kitchen. Where he could be seen through the window of his little basement suite.
They lived in that apartment for a long time. At least twelve years. The owner living upstairs. Looking out for them, helping care for them more and more as the years went by. That poor man found my grandpa. Got him down and performed CPR. That man will never recover from this. He is a part of our history now. I am so angry with my grandpa for doing that to him. It is cruel and horrible and thoughtless.
How am i going to accept this.
My grandpa wasn't really my grandpa. He married my grandma before i was born. I grew up having three sets of grandparents. They were all grandmas and grandpas. He was my grandpa. He was gentle and kind and adored my grandma. He took care of her. Always. A perfect gentleman. I never, ever, heard him say a bad thing about her. He loved her. He loved her and losing her killed him.
He died of sadness. He took his life and gave it back to her. My grandparents are all gone now.
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