Archive for the ‘Inside the 17th Minute’ Category

In the final two Harry Potter books, the concept of “horcruxes” is introduced.  Voldermort, the evil wizard who lost power upon trying to kill Harry, has split his soul into several pieces by creating what are called horcruxes.  In this way, he becomes immortal as long as his horcruxes are intact.  In order to create a horcrux, one must kill someone.  One consequence of a horcrux is the soul is irrevocably damaged by doing something so heinous as murder.  The soul is no longer whole.

This is how I feel.

Chris’ suicide is like a huge ache on my soul.  It saps my energy; it diminishes my capacity, even my very ability, to be fully alive.  It is as if I have created a horcrux and am dealing with the consequences of that action.  Like the creation of a horcrux, Chris’ suicide is an irreversible, irrevocable act; it cannot be undone.

But unlike Voldemort’s soul, salvation for me will come from continually honoring Chris life and the few years he shared with us.  And possibly from…love.


Read Full Post »

inside17thminuteart.jpg“If you’re happy and you know it, make splashes…”

Emma and I are at her swimming lessons, she is an Aqua-tot at the YMCA. One part of the swimming session is singing songs.

“If you’re happy and you know it, kick your legs…”

I really hate this song. I am not happy. There is a pall cast on my soul from Chris’ suicide and though I have happy moments and pretend a lot (for the sake of my three living children), I am not truly happy at the core.

“If you’re happy and you know it then your face will surely show it…”

My face seldom betrays my feelings; the sadness and despair I feel is often present.

Given all this, please don’t get me wrong: I am optimistic about the world and experience many moments of joy everyday. For example, going to swimming sessions with Emma and singing the songs with her.

Read Full Post »

inside17thminuteart.jpgI was someone who lived without regret and with a healthy optimism for a bright future. If I had a frustrating day, I could always be comforted with the idea that there’s always tomorrow. This perspective changed on June 1st, 2004. Christopher’s suicide shattered it. I now had one unforgiving regret that will haunt me for the rest of my days: I did not do all that I could to provide my son with the hope he needed to see the future as a place he wanted to be. He no longer has tomorrow. And though I do, and I am still an optimist, my confidence in the future has been shaken.

Read Full Post »