Luca Ballarini: This is why it is harmful to society. Read Daves fear. Amy, Paula called me this morning and told me what had happened Saturday night. I feel very bad about the choices you are making. I can’t help but think back several years ago and remember what happened between Dean and me before he chose to end his life. Things are not completely the same with your situations, but a lot of my thoughts, memories and feeling are… I remember going down and talking to Dean in his bedroom several times before he chose to shoot himself. I also remember the Wednesday before he did it, telling him that I didn’t have answers to any of his questions. I basically told him it was up to him to make the changes in his life if he really wanted things to change and nobody else could do it for him. I told him he had to stand up straight, hold his head high and be proud of who he was even though it wasn’t easy. I told him to walk around proud and confident even though he may not be and to get his tail out from between his legs. I left the room that night after he showed me the shotgun shell he intended to end his life with and which he has been saving for the last several years. Dean had written his name on it. By the time Thursday night rolled around I was so scared to go into the basement and talk to Dean because I knew he was angry and dangerous. Instead I sat on the couch, stayed awake and listened to him slam doors downstairs, throw things around, run up and down the stairs, come and go in his blazer like a bat outta hell. Every time he left I feared he was going to ram his truck into something and prayed that he would come back and see me. I admit it still bothers me to this day that every time he left I also felt relieved he was leaving and didn’t come upstairs and hurt me, mom or dad. Dean knew I was there because I did yell down at him a couple of times and asked him if he were ok and wanted to come up and talk. I never asked if he wanted me to come down. I wasn’t going to go down because I admit I was terrified at that point and really didn’t know what else I could say to him to make him change his mind. At that point I believed I had done what I could and felt as though I had told everyone that I thought could help I believed Dean was going to kill himself Friday night. That night I went to bed after I was satisfied Dean was home for the night and wasn’t killing himself , at least that night. Friday is a day that I will never forget but will continue to try and forget for the rest of my life. I woke up and got ready for work. I asked mom where Dean was. She had told me he was feeling better and went to work. She said Dean had told her he would see me out later that night. I told mom he was going to kill himself today sometime. Mom became upset at me again for saying this and told me he was happy when he left, saying he was going out with his friends after work and even said he would put in my car stereo Saturday with me. I told her again he wouldn’t be because he was going to kill himself. I left for work with mom being upset and with instructions for her to call me immediately if Dean stopped home before I got off work. I checked in with mom several times that day to see if Dean stopped home and reminded her to call right away if he does. Finally after several times of checking in with mom, she told me he had stopped home a while ago. I left work pissed because mom didn’t call me. When I got home I immediately checked my gun case in my bedroom. All the guns were accounted for. I actually stood in my room and debated with myself if I should hide them or take them apart and hide the pieces around the house. As you know I did neither. After work mom informed me Dean had already left the house, borrowed some of my clothes which he told mom to tell me he promised to take care of. He also told mom he loved her and told her to tell me he would see me out that night. I had a date that night and drove her crazy as I obsessed about what I knew was going to happen later. I did see Dean’s blazer at Steve Bedford’s house, but because of a conflict with one of the people there I didn’t go in. A short time later, I dropped my date off after being basically told I was driving everybody crazy with my obsession about Dean. I sped home as fast as the Buick Skylark could take me. I remember my heart sinking as I turned the corner and could see Dean’s stickers on the side of his Blazer reflect in my headlights in the driveway at home. As I drove closer I could see his basement bedroom light on. I remember thinking, “I’m too late”, “he’s going to kill me too when I get in there”. I was terrified at what I was about to walk into. I opened the overhead garage door and immediately smelled cigarette smoke. The garage lights were off and I couldn’t see. I opened up the wooden screen door and leaned forward to push the other door open and fell into the house. The door had been left open, Dean was in a hurry. My heart pounding, I walked down the stairs and approached his bedroom door. It was closed. I looked underneath the door and noticed his lights were now off. I still can remember my voice cracking in fear as I called out his name before cautiously opening his door. I opened it and turned on the lights expecting to see or have something horrible happen. There was nothing. I immediately thought he hung himself in one of the closets so I looked …nothing. After not finding him in his bedroom I was sure he had cut his wrists and was lying in dad’s old bathroom. I approached the bathroom and repeated the entry of it all over again still not finding him. After looking the rest of the basement over I remembered smelling cigarette smoke in the garage. I was sure he had hung himself in the backyard or killed himself in the garden. I went outside and looked. Again I found nothing. I thought to myself, “Maybe he went out the front as I was coming in the back. Maybe he was too drunk to drive so he brought his truck home and someone else picked him up.” Honestly I knew this wasn’t the case. I don’t know why I didn’t think he would be where he was. Maybe the basement light being on threw me off or maybe I was having a mental overload, I don’t know. After looking outside, I stopped to take a pee before going back in the house. I came back in through the garage door. Walking through the kitchen I noticed a message on the answering machine which I stopped to listen too. While standing there, something caught my eye. I looked up the hall and noticed my bedroom light was on. I thought, “Dean, GUNS!” I walked to my door, put my hand on the knob and listened. I heard nothing. I was so scared when I said his name out loud before beginning to turn the knob. As the door cracked from the jam the gun went off. It wasn’t loud, just sounded like a knuckle being cracked or a snap of the fingers. I don’t know if my mind shut the sound out or what. Either way I knew what it was. I opened the door and saw Dean lying shirtless on my bed with a hole in his chest the size of a quarter. The shirt he had borrowed and promised to take care of was neatly folded and placed on a chair. Dad must have heard the actual gunshot because he yelled, “What the hell was that that?” I screamed for their help and yelled what had happened back to them as I climbed on the bed next to Dean. The hole in his chest wasn’t bleeding and he was gasping for air and trying to speak. Whole words were not coming out. It was as if someone had knocked the air out of him and he couldn’t speak as hard as he tried. I held his head in my left arm and begged him to hang on. Through his gasps he was trying to say “sorry.” He soon stopped gasping and fighting for air. Not knowing what I was doing I started CPR. I blew into Dean’s mouth. When I did this my mouth filled with blood and blood bubbles rose from the whole in his chest. I spit his blood out and pressed the palm of my right hand over the whole in his chest as hard as I could. I blew my air into his body again. Mom stood there scared and shocked. I yelled at her to call 911, but she was so frightened she just stood there frozen. I remember her telling me she didn’t know how. I ran into the kitchen and called 911. When I ran back into the bedroom Dad was feeling Dean’s pulse in his neck and told me to stop what I was doing. I tried again. Dad told me it was “no use.” I sat there on the bed holding his head and begging him to hang on. I could hear the sirens approaching. When the police arrived they made us leave the bedroom. From this point everything is somewhat of a blur. I remember starting to call the family and letting them know what had happened. I also remember being interviewed by the police and friends showing up. The only part of the funeral I remember is being parked outside the church waiting in line to go to the cemetery. Nothing else, I really wish I could remember the funeral. I wish I could remember the burial. Several years have passed since that week. I often find myself thinking of everything that took place over the last two weeks of Dean’s life. I imagine what would have happened if I would have acted differently or done more to stop it from happening. I am not mad at Dean for doing what he did, even though I still continue and will always think it was his most selfish act he had ever committed. Dean left me with a very empty feeling. Thursday before it happened I had a chance to be brave and go down to his bedroom and be with him. I knew he was hurting. I had a chance to tell him goodbye, tell him I love him and see him one more time Friday night before it happened, but I blew it. At age 41 I still have nightmares that he lives through it, teases & threatens me about killing himself all over again. He rubs it in my face that I won’t be able to stop him no matter how much I plead with him not to do it. When he does this he looks exactly the same, except he shows me the scar on his chest and mocks me for being a failure. Fortunately, if you can look at it this way, I always wake up right before he does it. I am disappointed in him for taking the easy way out and leaving me with this burden of guilt that I not only failed him, but a whole lot of others too. This guilt, the memories and the nightmares still prevents me from sleeping some nights. I often wonder what kind of relationship Dean & I would have today if he wouldn’t have robbed all of us from ever knowing. I imagine when I’m driving around what we would talk about if I could call him and talk, like I do the rest of my family. I imagine he would be a good Dad and a hard worker if he would’ve gotten the chance and gotten out of Carroll. After I decided to go back to college, after taking time off to stay with mom and dad, I promised Dean I would come and visit him every time I was back. I haven’t the last 2 times I’ve been back which also makes me feel guilty as I drive for my home. I don’t know why I am sharing this story with you Amy, let alone the rest of the family, other than the fact that the phone call this morning really disturbed me and I was overwhelmed with a ton of thoughts/feelings. Someone close to me, after sharing what you tried to do, said to me, “you aren’t going to carry this burden of guilt on your shoulders too.” Amy, no matter what, when people make the choice Dean made and you have attempted affects every member in a family in a very negative way, especially a family as ours. Nothing positive comes from those choices. Believe me! I have lived it over and over since I have been young man. I haven’t been able to find anything positive about what I experienced yet. Also the story I shared with you is just a small bit of what I’ve gone through since that Friday night with Dean. I probably will never share other stories. You are probably mad at your sister’s advice which is given to you over email. In fact sometimes I read it and am also shocked, but proud of my sisters. I am proud of them for being brave enough to tell you the truth and not sugar coat it. I don’t believe I could give the advice they give. I am not as brave as my sisters. That is why you never see me respond to your emails. In their defense, you are asking for people’s opinions by putting it out there. In most cases when people solicit help or advice they need to expect they are going to get replies that they necessarily don’t want to hear. This is why people are putting it out there for everyone to read. They already know that the answer they are seeking isn’t a good answer, but they don’t want to face the truth or consequences, so it is put out for all to see and for someone else to fall on the sword and give the advice. Amy, I truly believe that you are very capable of becoming successful in society. I believe in you. It won’t be easy, but I know it is very possible and you are very capable. You are very smart and in my opinion have hit rock bottom. No one can help you without you first wanting to help yourself. If I didn’t take care of my diabetes, my life would soon be over. I have to check my levels multiple times throughout the day and night, exercise and try & take care of my body along with visiting my Doctors several times a year. If I didn’t do it, who would? Sure Kelly and the boys help out by noticing when I’m going low, but ultimately the responsibility falls on me. I know nothing about mental illness, other than I know the person who has it has to step up and take the most responsibility to control it. If not, just like any other disease, if you don’t control it, the disease will control you and severe consequences will result. I know the choice is ultimately yours. This letter probably makes little sense and I’m sure you probably think I’m rambling. Dean didn’t want to listen to me. I know I don’t have all the right answers either. Dean wanted someone to snap their fingers and make everything work out. Life doesn’t happen that way. It is extremely hard work for all. Everyone has their own personal struggles. I truly believe life is either good or bad, but it isn’t either one for very long. I also know that you are in charge of your life. Pull your pants up and please stop being a victim of your mental illness and take charge. Dig yourself out of your hole and do something you are proud of. It’s not too late, but it can only start with you by taking one step at a time. Life isn’t an easy process. You spend more time falling and trying to pick yourself up than you do running, but the short times you actually get to run make all the struggles worthwhile. I want you to know that I think about you, pray for you and wish you well every single day. Please be strong and remember that your entire family, including me, loves you very much and wants you to start being healthy and taking control of your life. It begins with you! Love, Dave
Posted on: Sun, 01 Dec 2013 10:33:03 +0000