Murder and Suicide, the View from Here

Interview: Part 2:

M sat quietly for a while then decided he wanted to go out for a walk. He grabbed Busters leash and we headed out towards the wooded area behind my home. We walked together in silence, occasionally stopping for Buster to smell the grass and trees and eventually mark his territory.

We came to the place where my youngest boys were building a fort. They have been working on this for quite some time and I noticed they had brought some things from home to the site. An old cushion from my patio chair sitting on a log, an American flag stapled to a tree, and…. was that my broom from the back porch? Kids! I thought, but they were using their imagination and I always encouraged that didn't I? No sense complaining about it now, the broom was dirty and I didn't want it back.

M sat down on the log next to the cushion and I joined him. He laughed about all the household items we had found there and he talked about the fort he and my son had made when they were kids. He said it was an escape for him, his “own little world, where I could disappear and where I was in charge. There was no yelling or fighting allowed at my fort.”  He gave me a small smile, but I knew all the pain he had been dealt. It was unfair.

I asked him about the day he had found out what his mother and father had done, I didn't excuse her from the hurt little boy that was sitting in from of me. I still have feelings of betrayal towards her. I asked what he remembered, what he had felt. He said that he was still very angry with his mother, but that they were “working on it”. I knew that most of the family was still in therapy. He said he was angry at his father but that he was working on that as well. He felt guilty that he was so mad at his dad, after all his father was dead and could not defend himself here. He was looking down at the ground this whole time, kicking his feet at the dirt, petting Buster intermittently. He said that he didn’t really remember much from that time.

“A lot of people, people I didn't even fucking know. Never seen them before and will probably never see them again. There was a lot of food. I felt like crawling out of my skin, if that makes sense. I couldn't fucking stand it. It was so embarrassing. I just wanted to be someone, anyone, else. Somewhere else but there. I hated both of them so much. I mean seriously the view from here (he points to his heart) sucks”

M said that he had spent a lot of time at the fort he and my son had made in the woods. They would make fires, smoke cigarettes, share a stolen beer from the fridge and trash talk about the girls in the neighborhood. He said that my son was a good friend, but that sometimes he kind of hated him. Hated me. He looked at me apologetically.

There were times when he wouldn't leave my basement and times when I would ask my son, “Where’s M? Have you talked to him lately?”  Then he would suddenly reappear a week or two later as if no time had passed. I didn't ask him what had happened or where he’d been. We just picked up where we left off. He said that he didn't really hate us, but that he was jealous of our relationship and that sometimes it just got to be too much and he wanted to be around people that didn't know him or at least didn't know him that well. I reached my arm around and rubbed the back of his head, stroking his hair. He tilted his head and gave me a smile. He knew I would never hold that or anything against him. I love him as if he was my own.

M said that he was coming to grips with the facts of his life. He goes to therapy occasionally. Sometimes it’s with his mom, sometimes with other family members and a couple times a year he goes alone. He said that one of his sisters refuses to go or even speak to their mother. She has decided to live in denial. He likes his therapist and now only feels like crawling out of skin, “once in a while”

Life is getting better for him. He has a job that he really likes and some good friends. He is serious about his girlfriend, they have been dating for almost two years now and are talking about moving in together. His face lights up, I can see that he is in love.

I am happy for him and can see that he is working hard towards a healthier life than he has had in the past. He will always have those invisible scars, but he is healing. Before he leaves we make plans for Thanksgiving. “Bye Momma, love you” “Love you too, M.” I tell him to wear his seat belt and to at least try and stay out of trouble, he laughs and waves over his shoulder.

The view from here is not always very pretty, honestly it can be downright ugly and horrifying. Not everyone has had to deal with what M has had to deal with, but we all have our scars. What we can do is learn to lean on each other and hopefully find the good in each other.

-Sally Hamilton