Time to get it off my chest. It's been almost a year since my husband died. Maybe if I open up a little I won't feel so numb. So here's our story.
I met Thomas Ray Pruett Jr April 21, 2001. I had seen him around town but never officially met him until now. My good friend Shelli introduced us. I was infatuated right then and there. His eyes were the most beautiful ones I had ever seen in my entire life.
One week later we ran into him again at a local bar,(yeah this was my bar hopping stage) I got the courage at the end of the night to ask him to dance, he said yes and we shared our first dance. It was to "Take my hand" by Wayne Toups. To this day I can still remember the feel of his arms around me. It was the most incredable feeling in the entire world. At the end of the night he gave me his number and asked me to call him, so I did.
The following week on May 10, we had our first date. After that we were inseparable. We were together every minute that he wasn't working. Within a few weeks I was totally smitten and falling in love. I told him I loved him, he would kiss my forhead and pull me tighter. He said he couldn't say it til he meant it. I understood.
On August 22, he told me he loved me for the first time. I can still remember every detail and exactly how his voice sounded when he said those three little words.
October 2001, I proposed. He said yes.
January 18, 2002 we were married.
It was a whirlwind romance and some think it was a little too fast but if they could only have felt what we did. Everything about it and us felt so right.
We had our ups and downs like every married couple does. We separated a few times, but we never could stay away from each other...we were always drawn back to one another.
He was my drug. I couldn't get enough of him. Even after being married for five years I would still count the minutes till he got home from work. When he would walk into the room, my world was perfect. In the first few months of our relationship, I couldn't look him in the eyes for more than a few seconds because the butterflies in my stomach were overwhelming. His touch gave me goosebumps. One look and I would melt. The passion never faded. We never lost that spark.
We did lose sight of the good stuff. We let the bad stuff take over the good. We got into things we shouldn't have and those things took over our lives. And that is the real tragedy in this story. Because you see, when I say we were good together, we were really good.
The first three years we were together, we were SO happy. We were so perfect. More than a few of my girlfriends had told me, "I hope when I marry , I can have a marriage half as good as you've got."
I won't go into detail about the things we got into because it is personal and doesn't need to be discussed, but those who knew us personally and partied with us, yall know what I'm talking about. The rest of you can use your imaginations.
In the fourth year things got ugly and messy. We started saying things in anger. We held onto grudges. We got into the vicious cycle of you hurt me watch me hurt you worse. We lost respect for each other. But all the while deep down we were both trying to find a way to fight for and recover what we had once shared. But cuts went too deep.
We separated, reconciled and separated again. We reconciled again in January of 06. And for a while things were really good. Then we both got back into the same shit that tore us apart time and time again. We both hated who we were when we were together. We brought out the best and worst in each other. And our family and friends saw it. We still shared a deep love for each other but we were actaully too blind to see that in reality we were just in love with what we had been in the beginning.
We both knew in our hearts that we were done. But we both knew from experience that we couldn't walk away and stay away. We both were hoping that maybe we could try harder and get back what we had lost. We didn't want to walk away and later wonder if we had truly given it our all.
In all of the separating and reconciling, I had two nervous breakdowns and one suicide attempt that left me in I.C.U. with a blood pressure of 38 over 46. I can still remember him asking me with tears, "What were you thinking? You can't go anywhere, you can't leave beacause I'm not done loving you yet." After that I damn near drove him out of his mind. I got the crazy idea in my head that in order for us to be able to split up and be happy, I had to make him hate me. And I tried like hell. But it never worked.
Tom was always a strong person physically and emotionally. But there came a point in June of 06 when Tom pulled me aside and said we need to talk. He told me he was tired of seeing me unhappy and he couldn't stand how low he had brought me down. I told him I couldn't stand the way he looked at me. There were things he was still doing that I was ready to give up. I begged him to stop. He couldn't. I loved him, I just hated what he was doing. I cleaned up and wanted him to, but he was too far gone. I was no longer his drug. He told me he needed to be able to walk away and know I would be ok. He said he was ready to do whatever he had to do to let me go because he saw firsthand that the relationship was no longer a healthy one for either of us, but it was taking a bigger toll on my mental health than on his. So he felt like he needed to be a man and go on about his way.
I started counseling and got on some medicine for depression. Within a few days I was feeling much better. I felt like me again. I began picking up the pieces and rebuilding my life. A life that didn't include my husband. All the mean words and hurtful things had finally hit home. I realized I wouldn't be able to forget how those words stung.
Don't get me wrong, we both did each other some dirt. But there are lines that shouldn't be crossed. We didn't just cross them, we raced across them. After being on anti depressants, I was finally able to see the true state of my marriage. And the truth was that we no longer had a marriage, we barely had a relationship. The hardest part to comprehend was the fact that we still loved each other tremendously, we just didn't like each other anymore. The love never went away. Everything else did. And there was no recovering from that.
July 1, 2006, I remember this day in perfect detail. It was the day he left. The last time I would ever see him alive. He packed his things, loaded them into his blazer and then stood in the doorway and looked at me and said, "Call me if you need anything." Then he walked out the door.
Two days later I called him, he asked what I needed. I told him I just wanted to hear his voice. The last words he ever spoke to me were, "There's a song by Blue October called Hate Me, listen to it, it's my song to you." Then he hung up the phone.
I changed my phone number and he did the same. For once in our history, we made a clean break. God must have had something to do with that, I think in a way he was preparing me for what was to come.
I thought about Tom often. I missed him everyday. But I was ok with the way things had turned out. He was out there living his life and I was doing the same. I made new friends, took a couple road trips and was having the time of my life. I was healing. He was like my addiction that I was recovering from.
I never stopped loving him, ever. But I did finally understand that sometimes it's hurts more to be with the one you love than to be without them. And I knew the true meaning of sometimes love just isn't enough. It still hurt but I was moving on.
October 3, 2006
I was sitting at my computer journaling. Something I had started to do just two days earlier. Most of it was about Tom and how I was learning from all the mistakes. I realized I was no longer mad at him for things that had been said and done. And I finally understood that who did what to who didn't matter anymore. We had both held each other up for so long, that it didn't matter who or why, only that we let each other fall. We failed each other and ourselves. As I was journaling, I had my media player playing and our wedding song came on. (Two rights don't make it wrong by Crosscutt) I began to cry as a deep wave of sadness washed over me. I couldn't explain it. I felt Tom's touch, it was very strange. I noticed the time and it was 12:55 pm. The feeling eventually passed and I went on about my day. I didn't think anything else of the strange occurance.
I went swimming with a friend and began making plans for my 29th birthday coming up in three days. I told her I didn't know what I would be doing but I was a little saddened by the fact it would be my first birthday without Tom. I went back home that evening and was in pretty good spirits as I was watching tv with my mother. Then there was a knock on the door.
It was a friend of me and Tom's. He told me I needed to make some phone calls because he had heard something and didn't know if it was true, so for me to try not to over react till I got to the bottom of it. I'll never in my entire life forget the next words he spoke, "I heard that Tom died today, Mandy." My response was, "Tom who?" Then it hit me. "Not my Tom, not my husband."
My cell phone wasn't working so I ran up to the neighbor's house and called a friend who would know for sure. I called Cookie and when he answered the phone all I could say is, "Is it true, is Tom ok?" The response I got was,"No baby it's true, he's gone." I screamed, and threw the phone to the ground like it had bit me and my legs turned to jello.
My neighbor literally picked me up and carried me back to my house where my mother was waiting. I'm sure she heard my screams because she was at the door in no time to catch me as I crumpled into a ball on the floor. All I could hear was screaming. My screams. I couldn't think, I couldn't speak, all I could do was scream. This could not be happening.
It's not true, it's a sick joke someone is playing on me, is all I could say. My mom called my best friend Nina and told her what had happened. Nina was at my house in 5 minutes. She loaded me up and me and Mom went to her house. I still didn't believe he was dead. I wanted proof. I was in no way, shape, form or fashion able to make a phone call, so my mother called Tom's mother.
I heard her when she confirmed it. Nina had to come sit on me to calm me down because I lost it again. That still wasn't enough so we called the hospital. They also confirmed his death. They were waiting for me to get in touch with them because the autopsy and other arrangements couldn't be done without me. Eventhough we were separated, I was still his wife and his next of kin. I got no sleep that night.
October 4, I went with his mom and dad to handle all the arrangements. It had been three months since I had laid eyes on my husband and eventhough everyone thought I was nuts I wanted, no, I needed to see his body. I needed to tell him I loved him. We went to the funeral home, but I couldn't see his body then because they were performing the autopsy when we got there. It took all I had to be able to sign the consent to cremate. I had to stop in the middle of signing my name. I broke down completely.
They spoke to us and told us the cause of death was a heart attack and it was his second one. We never knew he had the first one. His time of death was 12:56pm October 3. It was then I understood the feeling I had felt the day before while sitting at my computer.
I went and picked up Tom's blazer and had to do the hardest thing I've ever done in my entire life, I had to go break the news to my son, Tomas, who adored Tom. Then we went home.
I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep. I carried Tom's drivers liscense in my bra next to my heart. I felt numb. I wanted to cry, but couldn't. I wanted it to be some mistake. I wanted to go to the funeral home and see it wasn't him.
I went that night and had a couple drinks with a friend. As we were driving up to the place I was talking about how my birthday was in two days and it would really be my first without Tom. We pulled up to the hotel, and they had a scrolling LED sign, and big as day the sign read,"Happy Birthday, Mandy." Yeah it was probably meant for an employee that worked there, but to me that was my sign from Tom.
The next morning I woke up and felt like I had a ton of bricks on my chest. We had decided to have Tom cremated and his memorial service was today. But before the service I had to stop by the funeral home to see his body and say my final good-bye before they cremated him.
I sat up in bed and immediatley had to run to the bathroom where I threw up. My mom came in with a wash rag for me to wipe my face. I stood up and began crying and then collapsed onto the floor and I kept telling my mom, "Mama I can't do this, I can't fucking do this." She sat down on the bathroom floor with me and said,"Yes you can, you don't have to do this one day at a time, let's get through this one minute at at a time. We just need you to get through today and then we will take it from there." She helped me off the floor and I realized my son was in the next room, so I kept it together for him.
I got dressed for the memorial service and my sister came and picked us up. We stopped in at the funeral home and I prepared myself for what I had to do. The funeral directors were waiting for me. They brought me to the back with my sister and mother following close behind. I rounded the corner and saw what I had been dreading. There on a cold metal table, covered with a white sheet lay my husband's lifeless body.
It took the breath right out of me. I walked up to him and touched his face. He was so cold. I didn't realize my sister had followed me in there and that my mom was standing at the door. Eveything else faded except for me and Tom. I bent over him and barely above a whisper I began to sing, "You know, you know, you know that I love you, I have loved you all along and I miss you, been far away for far too long. I keep dreaming that you'll be with me and you'll never go. Stop breathing if I don't see you anymore. But you know, you know, you know, I wanted, I wanted you to stay, 'cause I needed, I need to hear you say, that I love you, I have loved you all along, and I forgive you for being away for far too long."
With that said I touched my lips with my fingers and pressed them to his lips and Whispered, "I love you." Then I believe I kissed his forhead. I'm not sure because the next thing I know, I am flat on the floor. My sister is holding me, (I think she caught me) and the funeral directors are telling me to breathe.
We walked out and went to meet my son waiting for us in the front. Then we went to the church for his memorial service.
The service was short and sweet and gut wrenching. My son was being so brave and strong, trying to keep it together so he could comfort me. I was trying to keep it together for him. By the end of the service I couldn't help it, I cried and cried. My hands shook and my body was weak. I didn't want to leave. One of Tom's best friends Jadeb helped walk me to the car. I went home and the next couple days were a blur.
The day following his memorial service and just three days after his death, I turned 29. There was no birthday cake, no presents, no celebration. How could I celebrate anything when my husband was being cremated on that very day. I spent the weekend at a friends house because the thought of sleeping in the house that Tom and I had lived in was unthinkable.
October 9 Today was the day I was supposed to pick Tom's ashes up from the funeral home. Instead I had to take a trip by ambulance to the hospital. I had one of the worst anxiety attacks imaginable. It took two shots to get me under control. 30 mgs of ativan and when that wasn't enough 20 minutes later they gave me 20 mgs of valium. That did the trick, I didn't even remember my name after that. While I was back home doped up out of my mind, my mother and friend went to pick up Tom's ashes. I carried them everywhere I went for a week.
November 17. Today we had Tom's ashes burried at Port Hudson National Cemetery. We had a small service where they honored him and his seven years he served in the U. S. Navy. When they presented me with his flag, and saluted me, I couldn't keep my composure. When they played Taps, I couln't breathe.
A week later was Thanksgiving. Friends and family tried to get me to participate in the holiday but I wanted no part of it. Because two days after Thanksgiving would have been Tom's 34th birthday.
November 24 I went to the store and bought a fifth of Patron, a bottle of vodka, and a bottle of Frangelica. I went to some friends of me and Tom's and we started drinking. I didn't want to see a sober moment for Tom's birthday. By 6pm I was plastered and passed out...mission accomplished. I awoke at 12pm the following day, Tom's birthday and did it all over again.
Christmas was extremely hard but with the help of alcohol, I made it through that too. New Years was full of things I really didn't need to do, but did anyways. Then I realized that if I didn't get through this sober, I was only hurting myself. So I slacked off the booze.
January 18, 2007 Me and Tom's anniversary. Today I made the first trip to his grave. I had to make myself leave. I didn't want to leave. I would walk away and then turn around and go back and cry some more. I left some beautiful roses and enventhough I knew it was only his ashes resting there and not his soul, I sang to him, hoping he could hear me.
To be continued...
