He was, of course the last person you would ever expect to commit such an act. They always say that, have you noticed? The well-wishers say, "I would never had believed it," or "Never in a million years." Does anyone ever expect it from a human being? I don't think so. There is, I think, deep inside us, a survival gene.

No, I think it goes deeper to a part known only to the victim. But who is really the victim? The person leaving the planet or the ones left behind to pick up the pieces? A little of both would be my assessment.

I had dealt with death before; one of my best friends had died from cancer when she was only 28. She was stronger than all those she left behind. Deciding not to go through the treatments, Annie made the best of the time she had left and did much to prepare us, her family and friends for the void she left.

Nothing, absolutely nothing, on this earth prepares you for the shock of suicide, or the anger, or the guilt that comes from feeling angry.

We are ill equipped to say the right words. The first few days seemed to me to be made up of incomplete sentences and not quite meeting the eyes of my friends and family. At first I was terrified to be alone. Scared that if I gave into the grief, I would never get back again. "Why?" I repeated over and over, why would he do this, what could I have done to prevent it? Had I ever known him at all?"

We were married three days short of a year when he died. When he took the gun and ended what seemed on the surface such a perfect life. He had a promising career, friends and family that cared about him, at only 28 years old he was on the brink of the best that life had to offer. Why then? What element came forward and made him decide that the alternative to life was for him a better option.

They told me I was strong. I didn't feel strong. I felt frightened, lonely and hopeless. It seemed amazing to me that I could even get up in the mornings. Every night was full of torment; my mind would race over and over with the same questions.

They told me he was better off now, he was in a better place and released from the pain. I found myself wishing for such faith. There would be comfort in it, however such faith eluded me.

It's true, the stages you go through. Disbelief, anger, and finally acceptance of this nightmare, which has become your life. So many times I wished for the courage to join him.

Looking back now with the wisdom that hindsight brings, I can see the actions that made the difference for me. I write this perhaps give a little comfort to those in similar positions.

My fear was to be alone, but deep inside I knew this what I had to do, somehow, instinctively I knew I could deal with my grief in short sharp spurts for the rest of my life. Or face it head on and hope I came out alive. I cried, at first the tears seemed forced. I had held them back so long; they were buried very deep inside of me. It takes courage to let go, to give yourself over to hysterics. I often wonder where I got the strength.

Eventually when every scream and sob had left my body, I felt for the first time calm. The sadness seemed to overwhelm me, for him, for me.

I wrote to him. I sat for hours writing him a letter, telling him how I felt, asking questions, hurling abuse and anger and then breaking down and telling how much I missed him.

One day at a time
A friend had advised me of this. I found that one hour at a time was the most I could cope with. Just get through the hour, sixty minutes.

Be honest with your emotions
It's complicated, there's the way you think you should behave, and this varies depending on whom you are with. Then there are those times when you feel guilty about the emotions that you are feeling, so you try to convince yourself that you aren't feeling them. Anger seems to be the one we try to suppress the most. I told myself it was okay to be angry.... I was spitting mad with him, how could he do this to me? I would let it out in the same way that I accepted the guilt that came straight after. My emotions were on a roller coaster and I seemed to feel the entire range of them in a five-minute time span.

Talk it out
You may find that many friends and family feel uncomfortable talking to you. Don't resent them for this; apart from working through their own emotions, there is a helplessness that people feel when trying to help. Do to grief counseling, find a therapist, talk to strangers. I found that I got to a point when I wanted to talk almost excessively. I believe that for me this was vital part of the process. By voicing my feelings I was finally acknowledging them. I seemed to be a mass of contradictions, but it was important to say what I was feeling and fearing. I sought out people who had been in the same situation, it helped that they understood. Accept that no matter how close the friend, unless they have experienced the same situation, they have no way of completely understanding you.

Your life is going to change
You are going to change; a part of you will never go back to where you were a week before. I realized at this point that I had reached a fork in the road. There seemed very little of the positive side of life I could hold onto. But if you look hard enough you always find it. I decided that I didn't want my living memory of him to be the last day of this life. He had done so much more than that; I had no right to reduce it to his last five minutes. I spent hours forcing myself to focus on his happiest times. I kept a mental image in my mind. It took time but by "training" my mind this way I found that I would automatically go to it when I thought about him, or if someone mentioned his name.

Accept that it's not something you get over, it's something you learn to live with for the rest of your life
This may sound harsh, but trying to "get over it" is very much the same as trying to unlearn math or driving a car. You are going to have good days, and sometimes in those good days moments will come that seem to send you backwards. For me it was music, certain songs would reduce me to flood of tears, even if seconds before I was laughing.

Beware of self-pity
It is an easy zone to fall into. Stop yourself. At first all the attention is comforting, you almost miss it when people move on with their own lives. Generally people are kind and they will feel sorry for you. It's easy to turn this into a crutch that will stop you getting on with the rest of your life. It's a fine excuse: "I would have, but" or "if my husband were still alive." Personally I found that doing something I had always wanted to try, but never did, helped. This doesn't mean you have to suddenly take up deep sea diving or bunji jumping. A creative outlet seemed to help me, and I have a friend who started painting by numbers. She swears it was the only way she could take her mind off herself.

We can choose to be a victim or to be a survivor of a horrible life experience. At the end of the day the choice is up to the individual. There are no prizes for working out which is the high road to take.

When I look back now, over the last three years, I realize how far I have come. Strange as it sounds he gave me a wonderful gift...a gift I would have not appreciated if circumstances had been different. The gift is of course to live life to the fullest, as if each day is your last. Never take things for granted and find joy in your life each day. Approach your emotion with honesty, feel the pain but don't wallow in it. Feel the pain and don't try to suppress it. Remember there is no fixed time span for you to come to terms with your loss. Set your path and hold your head up. Celebrate the life of the one you have lost.

03/05/01

Teri Kuchcinski is a freelance writer from South Africa. He can be reached at P.O. Box 1732, Hillcrest, KwaZulu-Natal, South Africa 3650
Telephone: 2731-765-7803.