It could have always been worse..

Prompted by another widow's blog posting, I started thinking about how S.'s death could have been worse.

For anyone that doesn't know, S. committed suicide on 7/27/10.

How could it have been worse?

Well let me count the ways.

He could have taken me with him. Although in the early days I cursed at him for not taking me with.
He could have walked into a school, mall, etc, and taken unsuspecting strangers with him.
I could have came home to find him.
Instead he hiked up to a local min (that is a bitch to get to) and killed himself there.
The police could have never found his body.
I was lucky enough that they found his body within 48 hours. Can't imagine the pain of not ever finding his body.
He could have killed himself in front of me.
I didn't have to "pull the plug".
He could have experienced the person he loved  more then anything (ME) giving up on him and walking out.
Instead, I stayed.
I took care of him. For 3 very long years.
He could have killed himself at work.
He could have killed himself at school.
He could have suffered. Although I am not 100% sold on the medical results that he didn't suffer. (Who's to say your soul leaving your body isn't a painful experience?)
We could have been fighting at the time, saying hurtful things. (We weren't).
He could have killed himself while we were on vacation in Hawaii weeks earlier.
He could have not used that time in Hawaii to say his goodbyes to me. (Although I didn't realize it was his way of saying goodbye until months after his death).
He could have killed himself as I went into shoulder surgery, two weeks prior to his death. Leaving me unable to take care of myself and dealing with his death on top of my very painful surgery.
We could have had a loveless marriage.
We could have hated each other.
I could have went against what he wanted for his funeral (and remains).
Instead I stood my ground. I fought for what he wanted.
Even when his family was very angry at me for not doing what THEY wanted done for his funeral and remains.
I could have been completely alone. With no love and support from my friends and family.
I could not have a job.
I could be homeless.
I could not have my new heaven in my new home.
I could be in a mental hospital.
I could have let his death kill me as well.
Around the 8 month mark, as much as I thought about it, I didn't kill myself.

Instead -

He knew true love.
I know true love.
We had a great life together.
He finally knew what it was to belong to a family. An amazing family.

- And the good that came out of the bad - 


He could have shot himself and lived.
And I would be by his side, taking care of my husband, that would be severely brain damaged.