I lost my husband of fifteen months and love of 3 years, Ben, in the wee hours of the morning on 4/27/2018 to suicide. I was 24. He was 26. And we had the world at our feet. Neither of us were unhappy. Ben had bipolar disorder and depression, but he was very stable on his medications, and hadn’t really had any issues throughout our relationship. I knew he’d had quite the battle before our paths crossed — I knew he’d attempted suicide before — but I never expected his life to end so soon. We had plans to move in to a precious little 3 bedroom house and begin a family. I had been working my dream job for almost a year, and he, just the day before, had passed AEMT school and was to begin working his dream job soon. I’m not sure that he was there that night in all honesty. He’d gone out partying to celebrate with classmates and had way too much to drink (he shouldn’t have been drinking on his meds anyway), and was not himself when I came home from work around 11:30. I didn’t know where he’d been, all I knew is he wasn’t Ben. He was scary. He was irrational. He was mean. He was in no way his usual calm, kind, rational self. I fought him for over an hour, trying to get him to calm down, trying to get him to give me the gun. I ran away right before he did it. I was standing outside our home with the local police when we heard the gunshot, and I felt my entire soul shatter. I knew he was gone. And that was the day I became a 24 year old widow. That was the day all of our dreams and our life and everything we’d worked so hard for got thrown away. I hope, as I share stories, struggles, and triumphs on this website that you will be encouraged. That you will find hope with me. That we will all heal from our wounds together.
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