Life After Suicide: A spouse's journey

By Rosemarie James

About the Book
After years of struggling with alcohol addiction, Rosemarie James’s husband lost his battle to suicide. A happy-go-lucky man, friend, beloved stepparent, grandparent, and spouse, he fell into a cycle in which he felt there was no escape and left his loved ones behind. Now Rosemarie is left to pick up the pieces and find ways to put herself and her life together again.
Suicide of a loved one is often met with feelings of guilt, from within and from others. As a spouse, there is often an overwhelming feeling of shame. Feeling alone with few who have experienced her specific type of loss, Rosemarie set out to create a guide through the grief for others who have lost their spouses to suicide. Guiding through the stages of grief and providing insight on helpful tools to continue on, Life After Suicide is more than just a resource; it is a reminder you are not alone in your heartbreak, and others are out there who are willing and able to guide you through the dark. Rosemarie’s example is proof that tragedy does not define you, but who you become after.
About the Author
Rosemarie James is a mother of three and grandmother of three. She has worked as a real estate agent since 2005, served as a city council member for the City of Hesperia from 1994–1998 and mayor from 1996–1997. James grew up in Westminster, CA, and moved to the High Desert area in 1980. Her hobbies include wire wrapping gemstones and designing jewelry as well as writing and graphic design. Most of all, her family has been the greatest part of her life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dorrance Publishing Company
• Release date: Jan 22, 2024
• ISBN: 9798892115803

Book preview

The Longest Night of My Life

That night as I lay in bed sobbing, I recalled all the events over the past few days.

My love and best friend of twenty-six years was a recovering alcoholic. Nearly six years ago to the day, he entered detox and then a thirty-day recovery program. He was not your normal down-and-out, hitting-bottom kind of alcoholic. He was a functioning alcoholic, until he wasn’t. He always excelled in his career and his co-workers would have no idea that this man they all looked up to had any problems at all. He never drank at company events or on business trips. Nobody knew more than I did, just how badly the alcohol had taken hold of him. He did great after rehab, not slipping for at least six months. Once or twice a year he would slip and start drinking. He didn’t like the sponsors, people in AA or the program. He wasn’t the type that could give control to anyone, any higher being, and felt that he could control the alcohol. He would fall off the program, realize he needed help, and would go back to AA to try again. This went on for the entire six-year span. Then something happened.

The last six months or so he began drinking more and more. He would drink straight from the bottle and then try to hide the bottles. Every weekend was the same. He would begin drinking Friday evening and all day Saturday. He would fall asleep early Saturday night and wake up Sunday morning craving more. He would lie and say he wasn’t drinking. He would be so convincing that I would feel guilty for even saying anything or even doubting him. By Sunday afternoon, he was buzzed again and finally admitted that he had been drinking all weekend. He would apologize, and we’d begin talking. We had some real and deep conversations. Unfortunately, I found myself having the same conversations weekend after weekend. I spent pretty much the entire weekend alone, watching my loving husband drink his life away. I was so lost. It had gotten so bad that I just knew he was either going to kill somebody or end up in jail with a drunk-driving violation. A few times I told him he was going to lose me if he didn’t get help. I couldn’t keep living like this. I loved him dearly, but my love was not helping him at all. We decided to search for a cognitive therapy counselor. We found one and he began to attend sessions.

He indeed liked the counselor, and for a few weeks, it helped. Before too long, he shared with me that he was buying vodka on the way home from the sessions. Just speaking of alcohol made him crave a drink, he explained. So, he would drink after the sessions. He continued to go to the counselor and continued to try not to drink. None of it was working, and I knew I was slowly losing my best friend of twenty-six years to something I couldn’t control. I started to mourn the loss of my husband before he was even gone.

Our last weekend together, we spent together as grandparents. We attended the city’s annual parade, fireworks show, and community picnic. Our grandkids spent the day and night with us. We took them to the picnic and walked around the booths. They had a blast and rode on ponies for the very first time. I got some great photos that day. We hung out for a while, eating food, and then took the kids back to our house. I could tell something was wrong with him. He looked and acted like he was drinking and when I brought the subject up, he said, You know I wouldn’t drive the grandkids in the car if I was drinking. I left it at that. After dinner, we took the kids to the fireworks show. We all enjoyed that as we had in the past. He was a great Papa to his grandkids, and he loved them so much. He loved having them over and spending time with them.

Around noon the next day, after the grandkids had been picked up, we both sat out back and began talking. You guessed it. He went out that morning and got a bottle of vodka and started drinking. Why? Because he felt so sick from the alcohol he drank the day before. I was livid to know that not only did he drink and drive with me in the car, but the grandkids too? He put their little lives in danger, not just mine. He had always promised that he would never drink and drive because he would hate to cause someone else the pain that had been brought upon me at age twenty-five. Me and my family were hit head-on by a drunk driver in December of 1982. That night, I lost my husband, and two beautiful daughters, ages six years and the other only three months. Another story for another time. I just couldn’t believe he would do something like that. We talked heart to heart as the tears fell. When he was sober, or coming down off the alcohol, we shared so much. We communicated such deep feelings. He knew all my secrets, and I thought I knew all his. One of his was a fear that he would follow in his father’s footsteps. He was an angry and abusive alcoholic, who died from cirrhosis of the liver. Unlike his father, though, he was the opposite. He became very quiet and silly when he was drunk. He told me he would try to contact a couple of AA members to see if they could talk. When they didn’t return his calls that night, he decided to go to an AA meeting at dinner time.

After that meeting, he met me at my mom’s house as I had decided to go visit her. He came in, sat down, and began eating the fast food he bought for dinner. As he was eating, he began to express anger over the meeting. He stated a few people in the meeting really made him angry and rambled on. As he spoke, he got madder and madder, then suddenly it hit me. He never went to a meeting. He sat somewhere pretending to be at a meeting while drinking in his car. He was drunk. Starting to feel uncomfortable, I suggested we go home.

I watched him back out of the driveway, and I followed behind him. I found it strange when I saw him turn the opposite way and go around another street. So, I followed him. He kept turning down different streets, when I realized he was drinking a bottle of vodka, trying to