The next angels in my life were a few enlightened people in my church and a few of my family members. It was hard to make those initial phone calls and tell my family and friends that my husband was in the hospital because he tried to kill me and tripped, shooting himself near the heart, and lived. But that's another part of the story. The shooting happened at 3:25 am so it was a sacrifice for them to come to my home during the night. A neighbor, who also belonged to my church, came over when she heard the sirens, helped me to calm down and helped all of us to get settled down a little and get over the shock.
The two littlest children were still asleep, believe it or not, two of my older children were with me (one was hysterical, the other knew he'd snap and do something like this sooner or later), our niece was with us and our oldest son was out of town that weekend.
When I called my friend from work, the one who helped me to initially go to the police, she was very patient and supportive. I called her from the hospital to let her know what had happened. I explained how I'd been sitting in a private ER/Surgery waiting room while they performed emergency open heart surgery on my spouse. I told her of how, as I sat there wondering whether I wanted him to live or not, his parents belittled me saying it was all my fault. If I'd just been more supportive and not so selfish. If I'd just not asked him for a divorce and not been so frigid and unfeeling, he'd be fine. I burst out crying when the surgeon came in and told me he was alive and he'd be fine. I said nothing to those in the room, but my thoughts screamed in my head. I knew I'd relive this night again, except it wouldn't be him in the hospital bed. Next time he'd follow through. I was dumbfounded at the accusations that somehow this was my fault. I was perplexed and frustrated with God and thinking, "How could you let him live? How am I going to protect us now? How could you let him live to torture us for the rest of our lives? My children don't even know a fraction of how bad it is. How can I keep his evil from affecting them? Why? Why?"
My dear friend and angel came to my home and helped clean up blood and glass before my littlest children woke up. My neighbor from down the street came and spoke comforting words that I cannot even remember. I just know she was there and her presence kept me from disappearing into the emotional and mental fog that filled my head, protecting me from the cold realities around me. Others came to my home, both that night and the next morning. My ex-husband's cousin came and they put me to bed after I returned home from the hospital in the early hours of the morning. They stayed and got my children breakfast, attempting to block their view of the bullet holes in the walls and through the living room window. They were so young. All they were told was that their mom was sick and their dad had an accident and was in the hospital.
It had been an exhausting night emotionally. I was used to missing sleep. The trauma of this experience drained me to the core. The realization coldly slapped me in the face that his threats to kill me were no longer threats, but promises. One of my many migraines reappeared on cue just as the sun rose over the Wasatch Mountains. The thoughts and experiences of the night were simply impossible to file away. He'd hurt us/me for years, that was no surprise. He'd threatened to kill me for years, clenching his teeth, shaking his fists in front of my face, trembling in rage as he detailed how he'd like to wrap his fingers around my throat until he felt my pulse fade and stop. I knew he was capable of it; I suppose I just couldn't comprehend the reality of his actually following through on these threats. The racing thoughts and the early morning light pierced my eyes to the center of my brain causing excruciating pain when I struggled to make sense of the experience and accept the reality that I'd hidden from myself for so long.
