Blue note

I didn't cry much today, Neil.  You'd have been proud of me!  So strong.  I only cried hard one time, when I was driving out to Washington. 

Oh, and then again just now, when I read what I'd written about that morning.

1:15 We r on our way home.

Your car was in the same spot as we left it.  I was irritated by that.  Dammit, he hasn't moved the whole time we were gone.

The boys and I piled into the front door.  There was a bunch of mail between the storm door and the door, my box from Athleta had arrived!  Yay!  I tore it open after I turned on the TV for the kids.

I liked the ruffled jacket. The pants looked fine.  Where's Neil?

I'm going to take the dogs out.  The boys followed me like ducklings, like usual.  As I passed through the hallway, a blue sticky note on the basement door caught my attention.  Huh.  Maybe he's doing a project down there.  Maybe he's packing.

Ruby raced out to the backyard to pee.

I opened the door to your garage, the air conditioner humming.  It was hot outside.  The lights were off.  I called your name, no answer. C asked me where you were?  I don't know, honey.  He's around here somewhere.

We all tromped back inside.  As I passed by, the blue note stared at me again.  C was standing next to me, asking what it said?  Why can't we go down there?  I reached up and locked the safety latch on the door at the same time that my stomach dropped out of my body.

Your cell phone.  Sitting on the corner of the dining room table, where we left it.

The dogs bad both been in the kitchen.  The doors had all been locked.

Hey, guys, let's go over and see if we can play with Sarah's cat.

Knocking.  Their dogs were barking.  Knocking again.  Sarah!  Her car was home, why wasn't she coming to the door?

Well, I guess she's not home, guys.  Let's go over and see if R and A can play.  You go on ahead.

My fingers were shaking as I dialed my mom's house.

Mom there's a note on the basement door I can't find Neil his car is here his phone hasn't moved I don't know what to do.
Heather, call the police.  We're on our way.

We ran from one next door neighbor, across the yard to the other.  They opened their kitchen door as soon as we hit their porch.  I was crying as I asked whether the kids could come in and play, but the kids were so excited they didn't see me.

Of course.

I motioned for P, a doctor, to come out with me.  As I headed back to our house, I tried to explain the note.  That I couldn't find Neil.  Maybe he's upstairs in bed. He wasn't feeling well this morning.

P came inside with me, looked at the note while I raced upstairs to the check the bedroom.  I knew it was empty.

Heather, I think we should call the police.
Ok but I don't want lights and sirens, it'll scare the kids.  Let me find the offline number.  Maybe he's working on a project.

My hands couldn't operate the phone book.

Do you want me to go downstairs?
Do you want to?
I can.  Why don't I do that, I'll go downstairs.
OK.

How many words could I write about P?  Who helped me.  Who helped you.  Helped you when all he wanted to do was scream at you for how selfish you'd been.  He was so kind.  He told me to call 911, then he took the phone and while I screamed to God out on the front steps, he spoke softly in the basement.

I can't write enough about him.  I'm worried for him, but he says he's ok.  He's a doctor who deals with dying patients every day.  He says he has support.

The day before your funeral, I was standing in the backyard watching the boys jumping on the trampoline with Sarah's boys.  I told her how I'd come over there first, to play with their cat so I could go check things out but there was no one home.

I was upstairs, lying down.  I wasn't expecting anyone so when I heard the knocking I didn't answer the door.

Thank you, God. 

In the days following that day, I said a lot of things to people who would ask me.

I don't know yet, the medical examiner won't send me a report for two months.
He wasn't feeling well, and he'd just started some new medication that he was struggling with.
I couldn't find him, so I took the kids over to my neighbors'.  He's a doctor, he came back with me.  He found him, we called 911 but they couldn't help him.  It was too late.

That was all true.

It looked like an accident.
I'd like to think it was an accident.

That wasn't true.

Remember when Jean went to work for one of my old doctors as their nanny, so her friend Rhonda cleaned for us for a while?  She called tonight, to say she and Gary really liked you a lot and they're real sorry to hear about my loss.  I didn't cry.  I think it might be the first time I've accepted someone's condolences without crying.  It made me really sad, to think I'm getting hardened to this.

Am I?  Am I getting hardened to this?