The Night Before

My 11-year old son told me that I should post some content about our "back story".  I wrote this chapter several days after Gordie died so that I would never forget our last night as a family.

The night before Gordie died was such a typical night for our family.  I came home to find Gordie, Nathan, and Wyatt in the backyard.  Wyatt was practicing swinging his teeny tiny golf club.  A few months after we moved into the Estate in 2011 Gordie had set up his own driving range.  He purchased the real mat you see at some driving ranges with the hole on each side for the plastic tube tee thing.  He even had the little tray that you see at many driving ranges to hold the balls.  Gordie had spent hours teaching Wyatt to put a golf ball on the plastic tube tee, line up his club, and swing.  Wyatt had a hell of a swing for a 1 year old.  Gordie was so proud of it; he loved having Wyatt show people his drive when they came over to visit.  The driving range was just not for Wyatt, Gordie spent hours out there hitting balls (with a smaller club, not a driver) trying to clear the fireplace that was across the lawn area. 

“Hi Guys!” I said as I came out the back door. 

“Mommy!” Wyatt yelled as he started running toward me.

Nathan and Gordie were playing catch on the lawn.  Nathan’s first day of baseball practice was in two days and this year Gordie was one of the Assistant Coaches.  Gordie wanted to get Nathan warmed up before Saturday’s practice.

“Hi Mommy” Nathan called and then turned to throw a ball into Gordie’s glove.

“Hey” Gordie called. 

I walked over to Gordie with Wyatt in my arms.

“I had kind of a tough day.   Do you mind if I do a quick three miles around the loop?”  I asked. 

The loop I was referring to was the 1/3 mile circle that went around the house and some of the grounds.  The same loop that Gordie used for his run the next day right before he died.

“Sure” Gordie said.  “Remember, I am going out with Chris, Rick, and Rob.  I don’t need to leave until 7pm, but I need to shower before”, he continued.

“OK, I’ll be quick so you have enough time to shower and get ready”.  I said.

“Take your time, I want to practice more with Nathan” Gordie said.

I brought Wyatt back to his driving range mat and he got back to work on his golf swing.   

The loop goes around the lawn where Wyatt was golfing, Gordie and Nathan were playing catch, and Ralphie, our dog, was exploring.  I ran around them ten times thinking it was a great night, I had a great family, and Gordie was a great Dad.  I remember during one particular lap slowing down as I ran past them just enjoying looking at my family.  It’s a snapshot that is now forever frozen in my mind.

I finished my 3 miles and walked over to the lawn.  Wyatt had moved on to playing in the rocks but Gordie and Nathan were still playing catch. 

“I’m done.  I can take the kids now so that you can get ready” I told Gordie. 

“Nathan, do you want to play some more?”  Gordie asked.

“Yes Daddy” Nathan said.

“OK. I am going to play more with Nathan.  Can you take Wyatt inside so that I don’t have to watch him?”  he asked.

“Sure, but don’t you have to get ready and leave at 7”?

“It’s OK.  It will only take me five minutes to shower and dress.  I really want to practice with Nathan as long as he wants to go”, he said.

Such a typical response.  Gordie always put his kids before himself.  Always. 

I went inside with Wyatt and started to get dinner ready for the boys and me.  At 6:55 I walked outside and called to Gordie

“Gordie, it’s 6:55.  Don’t you have to leave at 7?”  I asked.

“We’ll come inside in 10 minutes” Gordie called.  Nathan beamed.  He was having a great time with his Dad.

Ten minutes later Gordie and Nathan came in.  Gordie ran upstairs to get ready.  About six minutes later he ran back down, gave Wyatt a kiss on his head, and gave Nathan a high five.  “Night guys, I’ll see you in the morning” he said to the kids. 

“I won’t be home too late” he said to me.

“Have fun. Tell them all I said hi”, I replied

Gordie came home later that night in a really good mood.  He had a good time with his friends.  Shortly after he got home we went up to bed.  Gordie went into the boys’ room to check them before going to bed.  I went into the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth.

Gordie was laying in bed reading when I crawled in.  Ralphie was snuggled right up to Gordie who was petting Ralphie as he read his book.  I made eye contact with Gordie and rolled my eyes. 

“You and that dog…” I said. 

He smiled and gave Ralphie a kiss on his head.    

We both read our books for a while and then turned out the lights.  The big house was silent. 

It seemed like such a typical night for our Family.  Only it wasn’t.  It was the last night for the family that I thought I would have the rest of my life.    

Opening Day

From a week after Gordie’s passing through the rest of March, it rained like hell.  To me, it seemed like the heavens were crying as much as I was about losing Gordie.  In our town, a rainy March means a postponement of Little League Opening Day.  Nathan plays in the same Little League in which several of Gordie’s family members played.  Gordie’s Dad had also been very involved in the league when Gordie’s younger brother played.  His Dad is actually in the League’s Hall of Fame.  After Gordie’s death, the League reached out to Gordie’s sister and asked if Nathan would throw the first pitch at the Opening Day ceremony. 

“Hey Bud.  The Little League called and they want you to throw the first pitch at Opening Day this year”, I told Nathan.

Nathan looked at me with his big brown eyes.

“But I don’t know how to pitch.  I’m only six”, he said.

I could not help but smile.

“Well, everyone will know that you are young.  They are not expecting you to pitch like a big kid.  Just throw the ball to whomever is catching at home plate”, I said.

He sat there looking at me for a minute.  I could tell he was thinking.

“OK.  I’ll do it” he answered.

Opening Day was postponed several times due to the rain.  But in April, the rains went away and Opening Day was on. 

The morning of Opening Day I got Nathan dressed in his Orioles uniform.  My Dad took him outside to throw the ball to warm up before we left for the ceremony.  We drove to the field, which is located at the same middle school I attended so many years ago.  I took Nathan to find his team.  Once we found his team, I bent down in front of him.

“Good luck Bud.  You will do great”, I said.  I gave him a little tap on the brim of his baseball cap.

“OK Mom.  I’ll see you later.” He turned and started playing with his teammates.

I carried Wyatt over to the main field and found Gordie’s family.  They introduced me to the woman on the Board who was the organizer.

“I am very sorry about your Husband”, she said.

“Thank you.  I appreciate it.”, I answered.

“You can stand right here on the field and watch your son.  He will run out with his team and then his Coach will bring him to the Pitcher’s mound where he will be introduced and then throw the first pitch” she explained. 

“OK.  Thank you”. 

Gordie’s family and I walked on to the field next to the dugout.  We watched the teams run on to the field and watched the ceremonial running of the bases by the T-Ball teams. 

Then the ceremony started.  They started with a lot of recognition and thank you’s .  I honestly was only half listening.  I was still in my widow's daze most of the time.   After a while, I saw Nathan’s team walk to the center of the infield.  And then Nathan and another boy, who would catch the first pitch, were called forward and introduced.  The woman on the Board was doing the announcing.  She had emailed me a a few days earlier and asked for some things that she could say about Gordie.  I told her about how the night before he died, he was playing catch with Nathan and was late to a guy’s night out because Nathan kept asking him to play a little longer.

“That was just so Gordie.  He lived for his kids.  He was really excited about going out with his friends, something he rarely did, but he always, always put his kids first.  So he kept playing catch with Nathan and was late to his dinner”, I told her in my email.

The Board Member introduced Nathan and then told this story on the microphone.  She finished by saying “the following day, his Dad died.”  I heard the gasp of the crowd.  I looked at Nathan.  He looked down at his feet.

From behind me, I heard a kid in the dugout say to another kid “I heard that kid’s dad died in a pool.” 

I closed my eyes behind my dark sunglasses. 

This will always be part of our identity, I thought, the wife and children of the guy who died in the pool. 

I wanted the ground to open up and swallow Nathan, Wyatt and me. 

They then set up for the first pitch, gave Nathan a ball and he threw it to the Catcher.  It was a great throw and the Catcher caught it. 

The clapping of the audience was thunderous.  I smiled.  I looked at Nathan's face and he was smiling too.  

After the ceremony, I collected Nathan from his team.  His coach, who had been so great to us over the weeks, said “Nathan, that was a great pitch.  Good job.” 

I gave Nathan a high five. 

“Outstanding Bud.  Daddy was looking down from Heaven and was so proud”, I said quietly.

As we were driving home I asked him “how was it?” 

“It was pretty cool.  I just wish my Dad did not have to die so that I got to throw a first pitch”, he said. 

Ouch, I thought.

Years later, Nathan became a pitcher.  

Vroom Vroom

In late March, just weeks after Gordie died, I got my first taste of what it would be like to be a solo Mom of boys.  Nathan was in a Cub Scouts den and his Pinewood Derby race was just a few weeks following Gordie’s death.  We had purchased the car making kit over a month ago and it was sitting on Gordie’s desk.  One of my friends found it when they were cleaning out the Estate and moving us to my parents’ house.  A few days after the funeral, Gordie’s best friend, Chris, called me.

“Hi Stace.  Suzi said that Nathan’s Pinewood derby is in just a couple of weeks and that he needs to make the car.  I’d love to help him.  Is that OK?”

I nearly cried with relief.  Not only had I forgotten about the race but I am also the least handy person on the planet.  I had no clue how to build a car. 

We went over to Chris and Suzi’s house for pizza a few nights later.  Chris took Nathan into a different room to work on the design of the car.  Wyatt played with Chris and Suzi’s three kids.  I stayed in the kitchen to talk to Suzi about my new fucked up life.  She made all the right appropriate jokes and I laughed which felt really good. 

As we drove away that night, Nathan was full of excitement in the backseat of my car.  He told me what he and Chris had decided for the design of the car.

A few nights later we returned to Chris’ house so that he and Nathan could paint the car.  Chris had spent god knows how many hours between our two visits working on the car.  It was just yet another thing that he and Suzi would do for us for years to come.  

On our third visit, Nathan and Chris finished the car.  When I saw the finished car, a tear rolled down my face.  It was painted forest green, the color of the De La Salle Spartans, Gordie’s high school alma mater.  It had a Spartans helmet logo and an Oakland Raiders logo.  On one side of the car it said Spartants in silver lettering and on the other side, it said Raiders in the same silver lettering.  Gordie’s two most favorite football teams:  the De La Salle Spartans and the Oakland Raiders.

There was also a racing number on the car:  26.  Chris told Nathan it was their family’s lucky number.

Boy could we use some luck, I thought.

Nathan loved the car.  He carried it gently in a shoe box on the way home. 

The race was later that week.  Chris came to help Nathan during the race.  Suzi and their kids sat with Wyatt and I in the bleachers to cheer them on.  They did not win but it was a winning night for all of us.  Nathan was so proud of his car and was so happy to be able to do the derby even though his Dad was not there.

 I sat on the edge of his bed after I tucked him in that night.

“How was tonight Bud?” I asked.

“It was good.  I wish my Dad was there but Mr Chris was so nice to help me.  And I bet my car would have looked the same if Daddy were here.” he said.

“Why do you say that?” I asked.

“Because Mr Chris and Daddy were best friends.  I bet Mr Chris knew exactly how Daddy would have done it.” he answered.

“Ohhhhh.  I bet you are right.”  I said.

“Will Mr Chris and Daddy’s other friends help me with all of my stuff?” Nathan asked.

He was articulating one of my biggest fears.  Who was going to help my sons with the stuff that Dads do best? 

I thought carefully before I replied.

“Everyone has their own lives Bud and we have to respect that.  But when we really need some help, yes, Daddy’s friends will be there for us.” I explained.

“OK”, Nathan replied and then yawned.

“Congrats on your race tonight Nath.  Get some sleep.” I whispered.

I kissed Wyatt who was lying in his pack n play listening. 

“Good night little Bubs” I said.   He smiled at me through his pacifier. 

I shut the door to their room and walked into the bathroom across the hall.  I examined myself in the mirror.  I looked like shit.  I looked tired.  My eyes had huge dark circles under them.  My hair was in a messy ponytail.  I peered closer in the mirror.  I also looked scared. 

How was I going to raise boys on my own?  I silently asked my image in the mirror.

Five Years Later...

Five years later, I can’t believe he’s been gone only five years.  It seems like forever since I heard his voice.

Five years later, I can’t believe it’s been five years.  It seems like just yesterday that I woke up to this nightmare. 

Five years later, I miss him as much as I did the first morning after. 

Five years later, I know that when I told him I could not live without him, I was wrong.  I can. 

Five years later, I would give every dime I have if he could join the boys and me for dinner just one more time. 

Five years later, I still know when he’s here. 

Five years later, he’s selective on when he visits us.  He knows our lives have moved forward. 

Five years later, my sons are happy most of the time.

Five years later my 11 year old’s greatest wish is to have his Dad back to warm up with before a game. 

Five years later, my 7 year old’s greatest wish is to know what it’s like to have a Dad.

Five years later, I still have his dog, who is 16, and who I know he wants back. 

Five years later, I still have his black NorthFace vest in my closet. 

Five years later, his watch still goes off at 7am every morning from inside the drawer of my bed stand.  I like to think he’s saying Good Morning.

Five years later, I can still feel his hand on the back of my neck.

Five years later, I am in a relationship with someone else and there are times I feel that he was handpicked by him. 

Five years later, the stuff that was important to me before, no longer is.

Five years later, our house finally feels like a home. 

Five years later, it does not make me want to cry when I tell the hostess we need a table for three. 

Five years later, the pressure of being the only provider for the boys still keeps me up at night.

Five years later, I still worry.  A lot.

Five years later, I still love his Mom like my own. 

Five years later, the boys and I have a lot of fun. 

Five years later, I know how lucky I am to have married someone who made me sleepless the first night I met him and who never stopped being my best friend.

Five years later, I still have a lot of pictures of him around our house but I keep the ones of just the two of us in a private place.

Five years later, I am still very angry and still use running to quiet the rage.

Five years later, I still sleep with a bat under my bed and pity anyone who puts me in a situation where I would need to use it.

Five years later, I still have the same incredible friends who support me.

Five years later, I have new friends in my life, some who never knew Gordie or the old me.

Five years later, I am a much better person.

Five years later, I have my edge back, after losing it the first year after he died.

Five years later, my sons are the strongest people I know. 

Five years later, I still could not do this without my parents who set the bar for parenthood.

Five years later, I don’t cry everyday anymore.

Five years later, the boys and I have learned how to live life without him.

Five years later, I watch my sons sleep and feel an emotion that I cannot put into words.

Five years later, I am still running through grief.

Pop Tarts and Starbursts

For the first several weeks after Gordie died, I left his beloved F-150 truck at the Estate.  The boys and I were living at my parents’ house and I did not really need a second car.  After a few weeks, I needed the truck to get some bigger items, like Nathan’s bike, from the Estate to my parents’ house.  So, I had my Dad drive me to the Estate one afternoon after work so that I could get some stuff and the truck. 

I brought the truck back to my parents’ house.  The boys were inside with Kansas, their Nanny. 

“Did you get Daddy’s truck?” Nathan asked.

“Yep”, I answered.

“Can we go for a ride in it?” Nathan asked.

My heart sank a little bit.  I knew that he was trying to find a way to be close to Gordie.

“Sure.  Now?  It actually needs gas.  We can go do that if you want”,  I said.

“OK” Nathan said. 

The boys said good-bye to Kansas.  I carried Wyatt out to the truck and strapped him in his carseat.  I helped Nathan climb up into the truck and into his booster seat. 

We drove down the street and headed out the neighborhood towards the town.  I looked around the truck.  It was disgusting.  There were sunflower seed shells all over the floor.

“This truck is a mess”, I said to the boys.

“Daddy liked it this way”, Nathan said.

“Did he actually eat sunflower seeds and spit the shells on the floor?” I asked.

Nathan started laughing.  “Yes”, he choked out between laughs.  Wyatt giggled.  It was so damn good to hear them laugh.  

“Disgusting”, I said.

“Can we have a Pop Tart?”  Nathan asked.

“What?” I asked in confusion. 

“Can we have a Pop Tart?”  Nathan asked again.

“Um, are you asking me to go to the store and get Pop Tarts?”  I asked still confused.

“No”, said Nathan, “there are Pop Tarts in there”.  He pointed to the center console.

I popped open the lid of the center console and took a peek inside while still driving down the road.  Sure enough there was a box of Pop Tarts. 

“What are these doing in here?” I asked.

“Daddy would give them to us when we were doing errands” Nathan said.

Good grief, I thought.  Really Gordie?  A stash of Pop Tarts?  Gordie knew I thought Pop Tarts were total crap.  My friend Brenda worked for Kellogg’s and would sometimes smuggle Pop Tarts to Gordie and Nathan when she visited. 

“There are Starbursts in there too”, Nathan said.

You are kidding! I thought

I moved the box of Pop Tarts to the side and sure enough, there was a big bag of Starbursts.  It was like Gordie had a 7/11 store in his center console. 

I looked in the rear view mirror at Nathan.  He was smiling. 

“Daddy let us have the stuff you did not let us have”, Nathan said through laughter.

Uh yeah, I thought, and he hid it in his truck.  I started laughing.

What the hell?, I thought and handed them each a Pop Tart.  They grabbed them eagerly and started eating them.  I glanced back at Wyatt.  His little hands were holding the Pop Tart up to his mouth so that he could lick the icing.   

I pulled into the gas station and filled up the truck.  When I jumped back in the truck, the boys were still happily eating their Pop Tarts.

As we drove home, the only sound I could hear was the crunching of Pop Tarts.  I looked in the rear view mirror again.   They both looked so happy.  Who knew that a ride in an F-150 truck and eating Pop Tarts could put such happy smiles on my grieving sons’ faces? 

They finished their Pop Tarts just I entered my parents’ neighborhood.

“Can we have a Starburst now?” Nathan asked.

“Don’t push it”, I said.

Nathan laughed.  Wyatt giggled. 

Send in the Divers

One rainy day at the end of March, there was a message on my voicemail from the Sergeant in charge of the investigation into Gordie’s death.  Suicide had been ruled out but there was otherwise no clue on how Gordie had fallen into the pool and died.  Gordie’s sister was managing the investigation in order to lessen the burden on my plate.  I had my hands full with closing out his life, taking care of the boys, grieving, and helping my sons grieve.  Gordie’s sister was, in his own words, “a pitbull of an attorney”.  She was the perfect person to manage the investigation but the Sergeant would still occasionally call me with updates and questions.

I walked outside of my work building and listened to the message.  The message was simply “can you please call me at your convenience?”

Ugh, I thought.  I probably should not call him back while I am here at work.

I paced around the parking lot, in the rain, for a minute and then I dialed the Sergeant’s number.  I could not help myself.  What if they had figured out how Gordie died?

“Hi Sergeant, this is Staci Ball”, I said.

“Hi Staci.  I wanted to let you know that we are going to bring some divers to the pool at the Estate so that we might better undertand what happened to your husband.”

I was stunned and nearly speechless.

“OK.  When?” I asked.

“Most likely the day after tomorrow.  I am just waiting on confirmation that the diver who has a build similar to Gordie’s is available.

Build similar to Gordie???  Good god, I thought.  I was silent for a minute.

“Staci, you do not have to be there”, the Sergeant said gently. 

“I’ll be there.  Please call me back when you have the confirmed day and time”, I asked before I said good-bye and hung up the phone.

I walked back into work, sat at my desk, and stared at my computer screen.  I did not see what was actually on my computer screen though.  The only visual I could see was the pool at the Estate.    

Threre is no way I can’t be there, I thought.  I am his wife.  I have to be there. 

The date was confirmed for two days later.  That day, I decided to work from home.  I would have had to leave early anyway and I was a nervous wreck.  What in god’s name was this going to be like? 

I tried to distract myself by focusing on my work but I was agitated.  I could not sit still.  My foot was shaking back and forth as I sat with my legs up on my bed, my computer on my lap.  At the top of the lunch hour, I looked outside.  It was raining.  I looked down at my foot.  It was still moving like the tail on a dog.  I put my running clothes on, grabbed my running rain jacket, and headed out for a short run.  No matter how hard I tried to clear my mind and focus on the music coming through my headphones, all I could picture was that pool. 

After my run, I showered, dressed, and did some more work.  When it was time to go to the Estate, I grabbed one of Gordie’s baseball caps, another rain jacket and headed out the door. 

I drove to the Estate in silence.  No radio.  The only sound was the swishing back and forth of my windshield wipers.  I drove through the gates of the Estate and around back to the pool.  Everyone was already there.  The Sergeant, some other Sheriff members, the Divers and Gordie’s family including his Dad, Step-Mom, Sister, Brother, and Step-Dad.  Gordie’s Mom did not come.  It was too much for her.  I don’t blame her.  I don’t think I could watch something like this if it were one of my son’s. 

I walked up to the side of the pool.  The pool cover, which had remained almost entirely off since the day of Gordie’s death, was pulled back to cover the pool.  The Sheriff had marked the place where Gordie’s sunglasses had been found on the side of the pool.  The pool cover in that area was slightly folded back.  There were two Divers in wetsuits.  I studied both of them.  One of them did indeed have a build similar to Gordie.  I looked at the other one. 

Why are there two? I thought.

Then I figured it out.  The second one was there to rescue the first one in case he could not get out.  I felt a wave of nausea flow through my stomach. 

The rain continued to come down.  It was cold and dreary. 

The group from the Sheriff’s office was huddled around the spot where Gordie’s sunglasses had been found.  They talked very, very softly.  I moved closer to whee they were huddled.  I wanted to hear what they were saying. 

The Diver with Gordie’s build was ready to go.  He knelt down in the spot where they thought Gordie had entered the pool.  They had the pool filler thing next to him.  When Gordie had been pulled from the pool, the pool filler that connects to the garden hose had been pulled out of the pool.  It was in there the night before he died because I had seen and heard it when I was down at the pool. It did not sound like it was functioning correctly and I mentioned it to Gordie that night.  The Sheriff, and I, thought that Gordie had most likely finished his run, walked over to the pool, and started working on the pool filler thing and then somehow had fallen into the pool.  The Sheriff believed that he was kneeling down working on the pool filler when something went wrong. 

The Diver paused for a minute after kneeling down and then fell into the pool.  I watched from the side.  He allowed himself to float under the pool cover.  After several minutes, he crawled out of the pool.  The Sergeant and the other Sheriff members swarmed around him, talking quietly.  I strained to listen.

“…..really dark under there....hard to know where you are….disorientating…”  were the only words I could make out.   

Disorientating.  I felt like I was going to throw up. 

I looked up to the sky and closed my eyes. The rain hit my face like cold little needles, mixed with my tears, and slid down my face. 

How the fuck is this real? , I thought.  How did my life become a CSI episode?

After a few minutes, the diver knelt down again and purposely fell into the pool.  Again, he floated under the pool cover and then eventually came out.  He fell in again, and again, and again.  At one point he looked like he was almost trying to hit his head on the side of the pool.   

I just stood there, in the pouring rain, watching this nightmare over and over.  Gordie’s Step Mom came over and offered to share her umbrella.  I shook my head and choked out the words, “I am OK”.  She rubbed my arm and walked back to Gordie’s Dad.  I think she sensed that I wanted to stand by myself.

Then, the Diver climbed out of the water and took off some of his diving gear. They were done.  Gordie’s Sister told him that there was a bathroom in the pool house where he could change.  The Sergeant walked towards me.  Gordie’s family gathered around. 

“We are still unsure of how Gordie fell in the pool.  What we learned today is that it’s possible that it would have been difficult for Gordie to have known where he was under the pool cover, particularly if he was disoriented from hitting his head on the side of the pool which might have been how he got the bruise”, the Sergeant said. 

Gordie’s sister asked some questions.  Gordie’s Dad asked some questions.  I just stared at the pool.  The Diver came out of the pool house and walked over to us.  I looked him in the eye.

“Could you see when you were under that pool cover?” I asked him.

He looked at me for a few seconds before he answered.  “Not very well.  It’s a little dark”, he said. 

“Do you think Gordie did not know how to get out?” I asked, again looking him straight in the eye.

He paused again before he answered.  “I think that it is a possibility”. 

I bowed my head and cried.    

I drove home wet, cold, and devastated.  I could not stop thinking about what Gordie’s final moments might have been like.   Was he in a panic trying to figure out how to get out from under the cover and out of the pool?  Did he know he was dying?  Was he terrified?  Did he suffer? 

I reached my parents’ house, parked my car, ran in the door, down the hallway to the bathroom, and threw up. 

Rumors

Having your husband die in the town where both of you grew up has its upside and downside.  The upside is that if your friends and family still live there, you have the platinum level support system.  The downside is that a lot of people know you, know your husband, and know both of your families.  Another downside for me was that Gordie’s family had been in the area for a long time, including his grandparents, so a lot of people knew them or knew of them.  It quickly became widely known that the cause of Gordie’s death was a mystery.   And people started talking.  Immediately.   

A few days after his death, my sister in law told me that people were whispering “suicide”.  I was livid….for three reasons.  First, Gordie was not the type of person to ever, EVER bail on his kids.  He loved our sons and although he was not a religious man, he praised God for making him a Father.  He would never have caused them, or me, pain by taking his own life.    

Second, Gordie was not a quitter.  Gordie’s perseverance was unmatched, whether it was getting his college degree, figuring out how to do something, or fighting.   It took Gordie 12 years to get his Bachelor degree but he never, ever gave up on trying to get it.   Before Gordie died, he replaced the screen on his mobile phone by himself.  He was determined not to pay to have someone else replace it.  So, after the boys went to bed each night, he would watch You Tube videos on how to replace a screen as he attempted it on his phone.  It went on for weeks.

“Gordie, let’s just pay to get it replaced.  This is ridiculous”, I would say as I sat at the kitchen table watching him with his headlamp on, his teeny tiny screwdriver, his phone and his computer with the You Tube video next to him. 

“Fuck that.  Their price to replace it is ridiculous.  I can do this”, he would say.

He would look up at me, that silly headlamp on his head, and I would just roll my eyes at him and shake my head. 

But, he did it.  He replaced the screen. 

And even though Gordie was never the biggest or strongest guy, if you ask any of his high school and college friends, they will tell you that when it came to fighting, Gordie went to the mat.  He would fight until it was either over or he had gotten the shit kicked out of him.

The man simply did not give up. 

Finally, I was pissed because I worried that Nathan would hear the suicide rumors.  Although Nathan was not even seven and never without adult supervision, it’s unbelievable where adults will gossip:  the schoolyard, the baseball field, the frozen yogurt store.  I was terrified he was going to hear the rumors, which would have absolutely crushed him.  My fear of Nathan hearing these rumors just added fuel to the incredible rage in my body.  I actually told my friends “get the word out that if anyone talks about suicide and Nathan hears it, I will personally track down that person and kick their fucking ass.”  The scary thing is, I was not joking.

I was even worried about the news outlets.  Several days after Gordie died, the Sergeant in charge of the investigation told me that KTVU had called them inquiring if there was indeed a death at the Ball Estate.  The Sheriff’s department would not comment.  I panicked.  People were talking in the town.  What if they talked to the news outlets?  My parents were avid news watchers.  What if there was something on the nightly news when Nathan was playing in the family room?  Nathan could also read.  What if something was published in the newspaper and Nathan saw it somewhere?   The Sergeant assured me that they were handling the investigation with complete discretion.  But as I hung up the phone, I was completely freaked out.  I was already in my running clothes and shoes.  I grabbed my iPod and shot out the door. 

Oh fuck, I thought.  What am I going to do?

My breaths were coming out in short quick gasps.  I was scared.  As I jogged my normal route, I thought about packing up and taking the boys back to Colorado. 

Nobody will be talking about this in Colorado.  The news outlets won’t be sniffing out a story in Colorado, I thought.  We should go back.

That night I got my computer out and checked out houses for sale in Colorado.  But I knew that going back to Colorado and leaving California would have its challenges.  I had a job, my parents, and a fantastic support system in California.  I had a lot of friends in Colorado but not my parents and not a job. 

As the investigation dragged on and the town gossip continued, I started to hide a little bit.  I did not like that people were talking about us.  I felt like all eyes were on us as we walked through our little town.  I worried that we were just so recognizable everywhere we went:  a woman with a six year old holding one hand and a two year old with red hair in the other arm.  And apparently we were.

“Excuse me, are you Staci Ball?”

“Yes."

“I am Diane.  I was at your husband’s funeral.  I know your husband’s family.  Your eulogy was beautiful. I am just so sorry for your loss”

“Thank you”, I said as Wyatt wiggled in my arms and Nathan looked down at his feet.

Believe it or not, this was a regular occurrence for months… at the grocery store, at the toy store, at baseball games, at birthday parties, at restaurants.   I know that people meant well but it was rough on Nathan and on me.  We did not want to be the people everyone recognized because we lost our Dad and Husband.  We did not want to be reminded about his funeral when were were in the yogurt shop trying to have a fun moment away from our nightmare life.   

Fortunately after several weeks, suicide was officially ruled out by the Sheriff’s investigation.  I told my friends to get the word out.  There were also no more calls from news outlets. 

People continued to stop us as we tried to carry on our lives.  We sort of became use to it.  And thank goodness for sunglasses.  They make you feel just a little bit hidden. 

50 Shades of Frustration

“Hey Girl", Jane said as I answered my phone.

“Hi”, I replied.

“How did you sleep last night?” she asked.

“OK.  The pills are helping.  I need a book to read before I go to sleep though…something to help me escape from this nightmare”, I said.

“OK.  Let’s get you a book.  What do you feel like reading?” Jane asked.

“Nothing happy.  No happy romances.  No books about incredible dreams coming true.  None of that shit” I said.

Jane laughed.  “I think I might have the perfect book for you.  Have you heard about the 50 Shades of Grey series?” she asked.

“Nope.  What’s that?” I asked.

“It’s about a romance but it’s seriously twisted.  I think you will love it since you’ve always liked twisted stuff.  I am on the second one and I can barely put it down”, she said. 

“I don’t want to read about a happy romance”, I said.

“Trust me…you will like this and it will help you escape”, Jane said. 

“OK.  Thanks Girl.”

I downloaded the book that night while the boys were eating dinner.  After I put them to bed, I did my typical night routine which was a combination of my compulsively weird Inernet searches on proof of Heaven and the afternlife, some work for Clorox, and some work on closing out Gordie’s life.  It was 10:30pm and time for me to go to bed.  I got ready for bed, got under the covers, grabbed my iPad and started reading 50 Shades of Grey. 

I read for over an hour.  I could not put the thing down.  I had to force myself to put my iPad on my bedstand and turn out my light just before midnight.  I could have read all night.

The next night, and the next night, and the nights after that, I could not wait to get into bed and start reading again.  Jane was right.  This book was the perfect escape from my broken life.  Yes, it was about a romance but it was so fucked up that it completely stopped me from thinking about my own fucked up life.  I loved it....except for one thing.

The book got me totally turned on sexually.  Yep, I am saying it.  Reading about all that crazy sex stuff made me totally hot and the most fucked up thing was that there was nothing I could do about it.  Each night after reading 50 Shades, I would lie in my bed cursing myself for every night where I had given Gordie the brush off.  Just like so many relationships, there were nights during our marriage where I was just too tired, or did not feel good about my body, or was annoyed at him, or where I had to get up early the next morning, so I would say “Not tonight, tomorrow night.”.  And now here I was a widow and desperately in the mood and desperately wanting my husband.  It was beyond ironic.  To this day my advice to people is don’t brush off your significant other too much.  Don’t think you can always have sex tomorrow night.  Because sadly, I learned that there is not always a tomorrow.   

I finished all three 50 Shades books in record time.  To this day I am so thankful to Jane for suggesting the series to me.  I am also so thankful to the author for writing them.  She gave me hours of escape where I would get lost in Christian and Anastasia’s bat shit crazy relationship, miles away from my painful reality. 

One particular night after reading 50 Shades, turning out the light, and lying in my bed totally turned on, I am certain I heard Gordie whisper in my ear…

“Unfucking believable that you are reading these books when I am no longer here to reap the benefits.”

I actually laughed out loud.