They sat me down in the closest chair. His chair. They asked the standard questions. My name. His name. Was he on medication.
And then they asked him how I felt about Kurt. I knew what they were getting at. I was the only person privy to a sudden unexplained death. They needed to know. I can still hear my voice as I looked up at them. "He's my husband. I love him." And I lost it. Right then and there.
I remember someone asking me about the child who was screaming. Whether he was safe. I told them I didn't know. I thought so. Someone must have gone up and got him. Because the screaming stopped.
I started making phone calls. I needed people to know. Even with the chaos, I had to tell. I called his family first. Our sister in law. They were three hours away. I knew they couldn't help. But I needed them to know. I called my uncle. A friend. They were on their way over. I didn't tell anyone Kurt was dead, just that the paramedics were working on him. I knew. But couldn't say it.... Didn't want to admit it...
And I tried my parents. Literally hundreds of times. Over and over and over. They were already on their way from there to here, for a previously planned visit. They had no idea. And I knew they wouldn't answer their cell. But at that moment in time, the only thing I really wanted - aside from my husband - was to hear my mommy's voice....
I remember being interrupted during one of those conversations by an officer in uniform. I told the person I had to go - the paramedics needed to talk to me. The officer told me, "Ma'am, we're the police." It didn't really register with me at that time. Why would they send police? I had said I needed an ambulance, medical attention....
And then I heard the voices from upstairs. Those were the paramedics. They were working on him. I heard them saying something about trying one more line of something. I knew what that meant. I looked over at the poor policeman who's job it had been to watch over the hysterical woman in the kitchen, and said point blank "He's dead, isn't he." The officer gave me the line they had rehearsed... The paramedics are working on him... We've seen people recover from a lot... We can't say... I called him a liar. Told him I wasn't stupid. To just tell me the truth. He didn't say anything. But he looked over at his partner. And I knew what that look meant.
I was still alone - aside from the emergency personnel - when the paramedic came down the stairs. Its another conversation I can almost quote from memory. Another one I hear all the time even to this day. They had done all they could do. There was nothing more. I begged. I pleaded. As much as I knew, Kurt was not supposed to die there, in our bathroom, on our stairs. He was supposed to be taken to the hospital. Pronounced by doctors. They were supposed to at least try.
"I'm sorry, ma'am. If we could do something more, we would try. I really am sorry."
And he left. They had worked on him for over 30 minutes.
I screamed. A scream that I didn't think could come from my lungs. A scream I'm sure Kurt heard clearly wherever he was. The walls were closing in. I had to get out. Away from the house. From the police. From what was left of my husband. I stood up. The officer closest to me grabbed me and tried to restrain me. All I wanted was to get away. I swung. I think I hit him. I just wanted to run to a place where none of this was happening.
From the living room, another officer brought in Gavin. He was screaming and crying just as hard. Of course he was - mom's screams were terrifying him. The officer held Gavin in front of me - far enough away that I couldn't reach him, but close enough that I could see. And told me to calm down. Said, "Ma'am, look at what this is doing to him."
That was enough. The screaming stopped. I collapsed into the chair. And started to cry....
I picked up the phone again. And called probably the last place most would expect. The office. I needed to talk to someone - and I knew someone would pick up the phone. It was to the receptionist at the front desk that I said it for the first time... "My husband just died..."
Then the notifications started. Called his sister in law back to tell her he didn't make it. And called his mom. I didn't know if she knew. Didn't know if someone had broken the news to her yet. So in the midst of the chaos, tried to pretend that everything was okay. Then she asked "Is what I heard true." She knew. I didn't have to say those words. So I said all I could. "I tried. I couldn't help him. I'm so sorry...."
Everything blurs together after that. My mind settles into the haze that was shock, that would become grief, that would eventually become whatever it is today. The flashing lights of the emergency vehicles lined up outside the house as we left...
I know I was already at my uncle's when the coroner arrived. I never saw Kurt leave his home for the last time. There were people. There were more calls. Telling his best friend sticks out.
I remember going back to the home later with my uncle, to get some things for Gavin, seeing the living room for the first time. The curio cabinet and bookshelves from the stairway had to be moved into the living room to get the stretcher up and the body down. They were sitting in the middle of the living room floor.
I remember trying to get Gavin to sleep at my uncles. Standing in a corner, rocking him back and forth, singing "What a Wonderful World" through the tears. I've never felt more alone....
I know my uncle went and broke the news to my parents when they arrived. I know he cleaned up the water in the bathroom while he was waiting.
And I remember falling into my mom's arms when they finally arrived....
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