After Ruths Death

I stopped going to Church after Ruth died. At first it was because we had trouble finding a minister who would perform the funeral. We had attended to the same Methodist Church Ruth had been a member of since she was a child. It was her country Church I started going to when I married her son. That minister refused to do the service because she was a suicide. We were turned down a second time before another Methodist Minister of the biggest congregation in our town contacted us with apologies for the others and offered his services. He talked to us and he talked to her sisters and her neighbors. And, he read the second suicide letter that she had left us. Without ever having met her, he gave us a beautiful service. But, I didn't want to ever see the folks again at Ruth's Church who turned their backs on us. I did drive into town for awhile to attend the real ministers Church. But, W wouldn't go with me. Then that minister was transfered and I never felt confortable going alone with this rich, high class congregation who always dressed better than I could afford. Gradually, I just stopped going. I wasn't getting help in dealing with Ruths death. When I tried to talk to anyone about it, they just wanted details about the gruesomeness of it. I wanted to talk about who Ruth had been before she got sick. Mom was taking it hard too. We both felt the guilt that always accompanies a suicide. We wished we'd done more to help Ruth or insist her family had taken her illness more seriously. Mom said she wished she'd asked and checked on those prescriptions Ruth was taking. I was angry at how her family seemed to just go on as though she'd never been.

My Father-In-Law re-married just months after Ruth died. Then when his new wife became sick with a blood disease, he divorced her and was married again within a year. That marriage did last, but I gave up on him when TK's birthday and Christmas passed and his GrandFather never even acknowledged him. Though he was still fussing over his daughters twins, and the grandkids of his third wife. I was blamed for the rift when I wrote the man a letter telling him what I thought of his treatment of his son and grandson. We weren't invited to anything after that. TK met the man when he was older, long after my second divorce, but he grew up without knowing his GrandFather. My own family was the only family TK really knew.

Ruth was the anchor, the strength of the family. When she died, everything changed. It took me years to get over her death. I was still hurting when another suicide overwhelmed me.