Shock, Sadness and Grief.

“You have a choice. Live or die. Every breath is a choice. Every minute is a choice. To be or not to be.”  --Chuck Palahniuk

We are in shock.  This is a tragedy.  Our world has changed. 

I am prone to hyperbole, but I just can't find how this is an exageration. 

Between Saturday evening (after I dropped off his son at home at 12:30am) and Sunday morning (when the boys got uninteligible calls from their respective best friends), our neighbor hung himself in his garage.  He left four teenage boys and a wife.  And some very sad friends. 

This isn't just any neighbor.  They lived across the street and his two middle sons were my two sons' best friends from the time they were 3 and 5.  The younger one had spent the day and a half before helping us move.  He calls me 2nd Mom.  His dad was a prominent man in my sons' lives and a constant presence in the neighborhood.  And I wouldn't have imagined this happening in a million years.

We were all there within a few minutes and witnessed grief and shock of levels I couldn't have even imagined.  After the body was gone, we shepherded them across the street to our house (I mean Robb's house) and spent the next 12 hours in just unimaginable sorrow, disbelief and shock.  The days afterwards haven't been much better.  The boys and I are distracted.  Both the boys are getting sick and have missed a bit of school--the physical manifestations are just poor covers for the emotional turmoil they are going through. 

I could write so many blog posts about this and the experience we went through; here's just a few headlines:

• It is amazing what a body does when it is in mental shock. 
• My boys are amazing friends.  I have never been so impressed with two young men in my life--they knew just what to do and did it with amazing grace and compassion. I am overwhelmed by them.
• Those boys' lives have changed forever.  It was so sad to look at them and to know that fact for sure.
• His act ruined not only their lives and their future, but also their home.  They will probably never return to that home.
• I can't imagine the levels of pain and shame that could lead someone to believe that their children would be better off with him doing that. 
• The Haskins family can come together in amazing ways when we need to--despite what has happened in the past.
• The power of just "being" with someone.  Because, Lord knows, there isn't much you can "do."  Although I've tried--there are some beautiful resources here in Orlando for grieving kids.

"Live or die, but don't poison everything."  --Ann Sexton

• This obviously impacted our lives too. 
• The boys have missed much of this week of school between shock (I kept them home on Monday) and sickness (of body and spirit). 
• Move?  Oh yeah, we were moving. 
• The surrealness of me stepping back into my old house and playing hostess, interacting with my neighbors and coordinating everyone--and then remembering that this wasn't my house anymore. 

And of course there are all the existential questions this leaves, including:

• Is it cowardice or bravery to do that? 
• How can someone actually take that step and feel that they have no impact on others.  How can anyone think that their children will be "better off" after something like that.
• Of course, he didn't see the havoc that was wreaked with him gone. 
• Did he see afterwards?  If he could see what the impact was would he regret it?
• How does a child grapple with the message that this sends?  All the conflicting and awful messages that will never make sense?

I have no answers.  Just questions and sadness--on behalf of his family, my second children, my own children and myself.