⋅A Husband In Shock⋅
When we got the urgent call to come out to an apparent suicide near Atlanta, we packed up our gear and headed out immediately, preparing for the worst as we had been told the body was discovered days after the death.
We arrived within two hours and, as the team supervisor, I met with the grieving husband to discuss the job and find out if he had any particular requests.
I detailed our steps and told him how long it should take, noting his red eyes and pale complexion. I’d heard from dispatch that he had discovered his wife’s suicide and I could see he was still in shock.
As we walked behind the house, we came in sight of a garden path, which the husband led me onto as we spoke. I began to get the impression he hadn’t had anyone to talk to about the suicide and after discussing the cleanup, he began to tell me more about what had happened here.
He explained that he had been visiting with his parents for the long weekend with the children and hadn’t been able to get in contact with his wife for a few days.
“She was a bit of an introvert,” he said, “so sometimes she just didn’t feel like talking or she would get wrapped up in a good book or out in the garden and she’d forget to check the machine.
So, when she didn’t answer the phone or call back the first day; even the next, I just figured it was like that, you know. But it wasn’t like her not to call and check on us after a couple days.”
Becoming worried, he decided to load the kids up and come back home. Unfortunately, upon his return, he found his wife dead in the home they shared, having hung herself in the children’s closet.
Through his obvious shock, which was increasingly mingled with grief as the reality of his wife’s death began to take hold in his mind, he went on to fill in the last few weeks of his spouse’s life. He told me he had taken the children with him to his parents because she asked for a weekend to herself to unwind and clear her thoughts. This wasn’t an unusual request for her and, recognizing she needed some space, he complied, thinking nothing of it.
The next morning, he loaded the kids up and drove the four hours to visit his family, letting his wife be alone for the long weekend. Apparently feeling he needed to explain, or maybe just wanting to remember the good times, he told me they had grown up together in small town, been in each other’s classes since grad school; then become high school sweethearts before attending the same university in order to stay together. They got married straight out of college, even though he said they had wanted to be married earlier, they waited until the weekend after graduation at their parent’s request.
“She was so beautiful”, he whispered, “like an angel. I couldn’t believe how lucky I was.”
From the outside, it was the picture of a hometown love story with a happily ever after all but assured. The birth of their first child a year later seemed to be the missing piece and he told us those two years after their wedding were the best of his life.
Tragically, their love story was about to take a darker turn.
A Fairy Tale Takes a Darker Turn
As he continued, it became clear to me that this man was mourning more than the death of his wife; he was grieving the loss of her identity, who she was for all those years of their friendship that turned into a courtship, then the blissful two years of married life before her mental illness began to manifest. I understood he needed to talk this out and I couldn’t imagine what it must have been like losing the woman he loved as the mental illness increased in severity and glimpses of the wife he knew became few and far between.
Barely able to keep his composure now, he spoke in gasps and pauses and my heart ached for him.
I asked if he wanted to take a minute, but he insisted on continuing. It was as though he needed desperately to get it all out before its weight crushed him, so I sat back down on the garden bench we had been sharing and listened.
“At first, I didn’t know what was wrong, it wasn’t until much later that the doctor told us it was Bi-Polar disorder”, he sobbed quietly.
He stopped and took a shaky breath, “our eldest was about 18 months old when I started to notice she was having these huge mood swings. At first I thought it was because of the miscarriage.
She would be in tears one minute, then off humming and making a new shirt for the baby the next. I really didn’t know how to handle that.
“I tried to be there for her and I was hurting, too, you know. We were both so excited about having a second child. I just didn’t know what to say when it happened, didn’t know how to fix it.”
A Baby and a Hope
He stopped again, staring at his hands in his lap as he twisted his wedding ring around and around. He glanced up at me and quickly looked away, over the nearby hills. “I thought she’d get better when she told me she was pregnant again. For a while, she did.” He sighed and fell silent. We watched a few small birds fly by and I looked back at him, surprised to see the corners of his mouth raised in a tiny smile. Noticing, he said, “She loved those things. She was always spending money on food for them and I’d ask her why when the whole world was their dinner plate. She’d just laugh and carry on feeding them.”
After a moment, his eyes grew dark again and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his head in in hands. We sat that way for a few minutes and I was beginning to think about my team working inside, considering whether I should give him some time alone and see how they were doing when he drew a deep breath and sat back up.
Perhaps sensing my thoughts, he let the next part out in a rush.
“She was better, not a hundred percent, you know, but better. I was starting to hope she was getting past it and everything would be fine.
“But then the baby came. When she went into labor, I was at work. My neighbor and his wife, they’re retired, they took her to the hospital and called me from there. It wasn’t anything like when she had our eldest. She was in so much pain when I got there. She was crying and moaning and I got so scared. All I could think about was the miscarriage, how she looked, and the pain she was in when that happened and I was terrified it was happening again.
“The neighbors took our son home with them, he was only three. I didn’t want him to see her like that or hear her crying. He was already asking if mommy was okay. After they left, I tried to go back into the room but the doctor’s wouldn’t let me. A few minutes later, they all came running out, pushing her on the bed to another room.
Someone shouted at me that she was bleeding too much and they needed to operate. I just lost my legs. I don’t remember sitting down but there I was on the floor, leaning against the wall.”
Even years after, his voice and hands were shaking with the desperation he must have been feeling that day. “After a few minutes, I got up and I just paced the hall, praying my wife and the baby would be okay. Even if the baby wasn’t, I was so scared of what that would do to her, but I couldn’t have faced losing them both. I …” Choked, he stopped and rubbed his hands over his face.
“I actually prayed for her life,” He whispered, “if I couldn’t have them both, I just couldn’t lose her like that. I guess that makes me a terrible person, trying to make a bargain like that with God.”
As though he was afraid I’d confirm it, he sped on before I could answer. “But I got them both. The doctor finally came out and told me they were both going to pull through. I couldn’t believe it. I thanked her and turned to go into the room to see them but she grabbed my arm to stop me. Before I could ask her why, she said she had something to tell me.
The fear started clenching back up in my gut as she sat down on the bench outside the room with me.
“Everything that could be wrong with them started running through my mind. Did the baby have a birth defect? Was my wife really okay?
Good News and Bad News
It couldn’t have been more than a second or two before the doctor started talking, but it seemed like forever.
“She said they had been forced to give my wife a hysterectomy to stop the bleeding. She said there was no other way, they would have lost her otherwise.
“It didn’t register at first, a hysterectomy? The doctor must have seen how confused I looked because she explained that meant my wife wouldn’t be able to have any more children. I was so relieved, I mean, I was thinking the worst. But we had two children now and if it meant I didn’t have to lose my wife, I was okay with not having more. I was just so relieved, “He said again, “I didn’t think about what that would do to her.”
He was starting to lose control again and it became hard to understand everything he was saying as he explained how the postpartum depression his wife faced after her recovery from surgery, along with a drastic resurgence of her bi-polar symptoms, began to steal his wife away from him.
He told me how depressed she became when she came home and was unable to breastfeed the baby. He said the pain from the surgery made it too difficult and soon, she didn’t have any milk anyway.
“I tried to tell her it was okay, that I was just happy to have her home and the baby would be fine with formula but she wouldn’t listen.
It was like she thought it was her fault and somehow she wasn’t being a good mother. Nothing I said would comfort her.”
He sat back and gestured to the bench we were sitting on, “She’d come out here and sit for hours, forgetting everything while she just stared at those bushes there.” He pointed to the yellow and blue flowers on the bush beside me. “She planted that the week after we got married. She was so happy and excited to make a beautiful home for us that she spent the whole honeymoon on the garden and house. I was even a little mad at her for that. Now, I wish she could be like that again.” He stared at the flowers for a moment before continuing.
Losing a Wife Who Never Left
“After the baby, with the way she would just sit here and look at them, I started to wonder if she regretted it – marrying me, I mean.” His eyes had been misty and now a tear rolled down his cheek. He turned and quickly wiped it away.
“Anyway, things got worse over the next year, and the medications didn’t seem to help much but I learned her moods and tried to cover for her with friends and family.
“She took care of the kids and it wasn’t like she became a terrible person, but she would get angry for no reason, or start sobbing because she burned something; other times, she just went silent for days. Then she would suddenly be happy, but it was a giddy happy, somehow too happy. Out of the blue, she would want to go on a picnic or have some grand travel plan to the Bahamas.”
He shook his head, falling silent again and I noticed it had started to get dark out as we sat there. I felt guilty for letting my team work alone for the past hour, but I could see this was a man who needed to get things off his chest. He was carrying guilt, too and I knew his would be with him for a long time, maybe his whole life.
It wasn’t his fault, but as we often do when we lose a loved one, especially to suicide, he had convinced himself he had messed up; that he could have stopped it if he’d only done something different.
Maybe he was only wishing he hadn’t granted her request for a weekend alone this time, but he couldn’t have known how different this time would be and I suspected she would have found another way to carry out her plan even if he had stayed. Maybe someday he would understand that, too.
He stood up abruptly, jolting me out of my reverie. His face was losing its definition as the sun went down behind him and I couldn’t read his expression. He glanced off at the horizon and the light caught the glint of tears on his cheek.
“When we got home today, I just had this feeling in my gut. I should have known something was wrong when she looked at me that way last week.
“We were getting into bed and I looked up to see her watching me. She just had this soft, sad look on her face and when I asked her, she wouldn’t tell me. I just remember thinking how fragile she looked since the baby, like a porcelain doll. I don’t think I saw it before that moment…” He trailed off and whispered something that sounded like “I’m so sorry” but I couldn’t be sure and he continued before I could ask.
“I had this feeling when we drove up and I told the kids to stay in the car, I just knew something wasn’t right. As soon as I got inside, the smell hit me.
I guess I knew what it was but it didn’t really register until I found her. I don’t want to remember her like that. I …” He left off again, pausing for several moments and swallowing repeatedly, as though it would keep the tears back.
A few minutes later, he seemed to shake himself out of a reverie, saying, “Hey, I just want to thank you for listening.” He said, “You didn’t have to do that. I didn’t mean to go on like that. I’m sorry. It just came out of me, I guess.”
I shook my head to indicate it was okay, unsure what I could say to help this man on his way to healing. There are times in life when words will never be enough and I grasped for something wise to say before simply telling him, “Hey, no problem. I’m always willing to listen.”
Telling The Children
He turned, telling me he was going to check on the kids next door.
“I haven’t told them yet,” he said before stepping away. “I don’t really know how.”
The same neighbors who had watched their elder son when his wife had been in the hospital were taking care of them now and it seemed they were treating both boys to a dinner of southern comfort food; I could smell the homemade Macaroni and Cheese from where we stood.
My heart was sore for those boys and I couldn’t image what their father was feeling when he turned and walked across the yard to the neighbor’s front door.
I saw his silhouette pause, head down with his hand on the handle before he gathered his composure, opened the door and walked in.
I sighed deeply and mentally sent my support through the wall for the conversation he was about to have; then turned to go inside to face the scene he would never be able to forget. All I could think was thank god those boys stayed in the car.
Cleaning a Mother and Wife’s Suicide
When we first arrived on the scene, as always, we mentally prepared ourselves to face the worst and to quickly and efficiently get the job done so the family could begin to heal. It is always hard to hear when someone discovers the body of their loved one themselves.
That is a scene we would prefer they never see but, especially with suicides, family members often discover the body, leaving terrible emotional scars, compounding the grief they already face.
In this case, the wife’s body was unattended for three days, indicating she committed the act mere hours after her husband and children left. Thinking of my own kids, I wondered what it was like for her to know she was kissing those little faces for the last time.
There was every indication that she loved them and her husband, and I tried not to imagine the terrible desperation she must have felt in order to leave them.
Because her body had lain in the house for those days, the odor was pretty potent. Once a body starts decomposing, various fluids leak out, helping in the natural process of breaking down the tissues.
Cleaning human bodily fluids is important because it needs to be done professionally to ensure no traces are left behind.
We make sure there is no potential health hazard remaining in the home and any traces of the terrible event are removed.
There wasn’t much blood in this particular situation but there was a lot of bodily fluids and we had to completely remove the carpet from that room and disinfect the area, then deodorize the entire home.
When we were finished, we reviewed the job with the husband and he expressed how grateful he was for the work we had done and thanked us for our fast response and compassion.
He had wanted to shield the boys from the worst of it as much as possible and said our fast cleanup meant they would be spared a great deal of emotional trauma and scaring.
Apparently, he hadn’t told them where their mother had died and he wanted their room to look just like it had before. He had already called for a flooring company to come replace the carpeting we had removed while the boys were at school and was glad they would come back to a home clear of any evidence from such a horrible event.
As we walked through the house, I could see the memory was obviously still very vivid and fresh for him, however, and I wondered if he would be able to cope with the images.
Many times families move away after such tragedies, unable to shake the memory of the last time they saw their loved one.
With the incredible support the neighbors were giving, I hoped somehow, he would be able to work through it, though. I couldn’t blame him if he moved, of course, but not everyone gets that kind of help and I felt relieved to see he had it.
Knowing we had helped this young family get on the road to healing left us feeling fulfilled, it really is the reason we do what we do.
Though there are varying degrees of tragedy and grief, there is never a happy scene that brings us out to a job, whether it is a suicide like this one or a thief shot in the process of robbing a home. There will always be some aspect of shock, a sense of loss, betrayal or anger; a violation of person or home that leaves victims and survivors feeling vulnerable.
We simply come in to clean up the scene, remove the reminders and hazards, and help people get back to life.
Sometimes, we become a listening ear or a shoulder to cry on; at others, we have the know-how needed to navigate an insurance claim for the work.
Whatever the case, our goal is to get people back on their feet quickly, with minimal disturbance and a compassionate team who will restore any home or office to its original state, free of contaminates.
If you need a trauma, accident or crime scene cleanup please call us 24/7. We are here to help with all cleanup scenes. We are professionals and will always respect your needs and privacy.
Our local teams are available to respond 24 hours a day, year round. Call us for questions or a quote: 800-295-1684
Don’t Wait – Reach Out
If you or someone you know suffers from a mental illness, has thoughts of self-harm or suicide, deals with periods of extreme rage or an impulse to lash out, or has feelings of hopelessness, there are resources available that can help. Whether you are facing these feelings yourself or you know someone who is, you are not alone. Join an online community for support or reach out to one of the resource groups below before it’s too late.
Resources:
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: Visit the site for information and resources on how to get help for you or someone you love, or to volunteer. Call for immediate assistance at 1‑800‑273‑TALK (8255)
National Alliance on Mental Illness: Visit for resources on multiple mental health issues with focus and support groups to help you or your loved one combat their illness, as well as help for those supporting a loved one with a mental illness. HELPLINE – 800-950-6264
Mental Health.gov: Visit for help and resources on many mental health issues, from suicidal thoughts to eating disorders and recovering from the effects of trauma.
Ok2Talk.org: An open forum where teens and young adults speak freely about their battles with mental health issues, providing support by letting others know they aren’t alone.
National Institute of Mental Health: Learn more about mental health issues, ongoing research and finding treatment, and access resources nationwide.
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