Yesterday I spent hours searching through thickets, along roadsides, fields, behind containers and through tunnels for a friend’s husband. The day before he went for his usual morning run but didn’t return when expected by 8:30 am. There was a search later in the day, but a big storm and darkness called the search off early. I found out via facebook from a friend in Germany (thousands of miles away). She was our mutual babysitter but became a friend. She was actually like a family member to their family. She used to be an au pair to someone in our town, then became their babysitter then also mine while living in NYC. After moving back to Germany she still kept in touch and would stay with the other family when visiting. If I wanted to use her as a sitter or just get together for tea, I’d pick her up from their home.
After more than 5 hours of searching with over 500 volunteers, police and rescue dogs, we came back from our assigned area to the person in command saying, “Thank you for your efforts, but we’ve called off the search.” You can’t imagine what that feels like. Of course we had a feeling after 24 hours that it wouldn’t be good, but it’s so final… then they couldn’t actually confirm anything about his status but gauging by everyone’s mood you know the worst.
I was searching with some of the family’s close friends. One is my good friend and he wanted to go by their house after we were told it was over. I didn’t feel like I belonged— his sister was there, but we’d never met. Not exactly the time to introduce yourself to someone but at least I said I was sorry for her loss. Went inside to find another friend of theirs and then I could hear the wailing. The children (11,10 and 7 years old) crying with such gut wrenching sorrow. I couldn’t go in to see Naomi or her family. I didn’t feel I belonged at that moment, when it was so raw and in their personal space. I was so sorry for them all, but I felt it was best to wait to see them.
He was 44, in good shape and with a promotion and move to Singapore on the horizon. He went out for his normal 10-12 mile run, but didn’t make it very far. He was found down a ravine close to his house. He could have had a heart attack, slipped and bumped his head but they thought the most likely scenario is that a car/truck struck him propelling him down the hill. And that means someone out there could be responsible for killing him and leaving behind a widow and fatherless children. But as we just found out (3 pm Mon) he took his own life. He departed from this world and his family on purpose.
My son soaking in the peace of our hike that I took my sons on yesterday to help me ease the pain from the search.
Tomorrow my mother, my eldest son and I get on a plane. Yes, on Tuesday, September 11th. It’s a bit nerve wracking but I think the likelihood of anything happening on that day is close to nil. We’re flying out to California to see my brother and his family, pick up his Prius and drive to my friend’s new place near San Luis Opisbo. This is the family that I wrote about who left Connecticut in July. My son is beyond excited. We are then driving across country via the Grand Canyon and Zion National Park. Might even try to go up to Yellowstone, if we’re making good time.
So, there is good to look forward to. I want our departure to be a happy and safe one. I want to come home to my husband and younger sons with new stories to tell and give them something to look forward to. I just wish the weekend’s event never happened so that those 3 young kids and that beautiful wife could say the same.
