After the near termination of my life at my own hands and what I can only consider some sought of divine intervention, I immediately took the letter I wrote and burnt it. Making sure my ex and the boys never saw it. I then proceeded to try and gain my sanity back. I tried in vain to get my job back at the mill. The harder I tried to find work at the other mills in the area, the quicker the doors slammed in my face. I knew I could not continue to live in the same small town as my ex and her new boyfriend and the boys. Every time I saw him with her and especially when he was with the boys, I felt the anger rise up within me. I knew I was not well mentally enough yet to stay and deal with him. From deep within me I was being urged to leave, for my own safety and his and hers. To leave the boys with some form of stability I knew I must leave quickly. I believe it was a Sunday when I walked up to their home to say goodbye. It was one of the longest walks for such a short distance. I deliberately took my time trying to find the right words I would use to say goodbye to my boys and her. By the time I arrived it was dark. I walked up to the door, knocked and was let in by my ex, behind her standing in the kitchen hallway was her new boyfriend. I could see in his eyes he was leery of me. Protective of her, I could not blame him for that, not at all. I asked her to come out side so that I could talk to her in private, and she agreed. He stayed by the window keeping an eye on me. This time I felt no anger, no hatred, just a very deep sadness. I told her why I was leaving, she didn’t say much, just basically stood there listening. I believe by this time she had definitely decided it was over completely between us, she had some one else in her life. I then asked her if I could go into the boy’s room to say goodbye to them. We walked back into the house, and I proceeded down the hallway to their bedroom. My youngest was sitting on his bed, the oldest right above him on his. Their favorite places their bunk bed. The youngest would not really come near me, he I realized was now scared of me, didn’t trust me, I tried to hug him but he really didn’t want to, it was incredibly sad to see what I had done to him. The oldest knew something was wrong, and I tried to explain to him in the best way he could understand why I was leaving, had to leave for now. As I spoke the tears began to flow down our cheeks, and as we hugged for the last time, we were both crying pretty freely. It was at that time her new boyfriend suddenly entered the room and told me to leave. It had only been perhaps twenty minutes. I could see he had completely moved in and taken control. He knew I wouldn’t make a scene and so he got his way. I turned once more to the boys and said goodbye, then left. The entire walk home I could not hold back the tears, everything once again seemed so dark, so empty, so lost, but I knew at this time in my life it was the right thing to do. I believed I was making the right decision. If it were not for my brother I don’t know what I would have done. I had not really spoken to him, seen him for any length of time. It must have been about three years or longer. We were quite far apart in age he being the younger. I decided to call him one night at his home down on the lower mainland, twelve hundred kilometers away. To my surprise he answered the phone. I told him what had happened and asked if I could come down and stay with him, if it was possible. To my luck and his kindness he said yes. A roommate of his had just moved out. The spare bedroom was free. I told him I would call when I was about to leave. The next day I went into town, I had no money to buy a bus ticket, and decided I would go to the local Humane Resources office to see what they could do. Again I seemed to be lucky. Where before every door was slamming in my face, there were doors now being opened to help me leave? I received the money that afternoon and a day later I headed off to the lower mainland to begin to try and rebuild my life. The kindness of my brother and father was immense, not once do I remember them judging me harshly, whatever, they thought of the situation they kept to themselves. I thank them for the healing period and the space and support they gave me. It will always be remembered and appreciated. Thoughts of death do not fade away that easily At forty-two years of age, I have experienced so many highs, so many lows. Some good, some bad, some happy, some sad. I had moved down to my brothers. I had picked up the pieces of my life and began to rebuild them. There were many trials and I was still learning but not learning fast enough. Once you become accustomed to thinking of death, your own, it is far to easy to slip into thoughts of darkness if you become so wrapped up in what I call the this world of illusion we live in. It happened again. About five months ago I started to completely fall apart. I had been laid off, from my job in the film industry, my money had completely run out. Day after day job searches resulted in nothing. Bill collectors were continually knocking on my door. I felt a total loss of control in my life. The fall began and once again I felt myself start plummeting into the same deepest, darkest, blackest hole of my past. Why was I going through this again? Why was it always death, and more death? I started shutting myself down. I wasn’t drinking this time, hadn’t drank for quite some time, so why was this happening again? I couldn’t reach out to friends and family, as I already had once before. I was beginning to get very tired of life. Things got worse, day and night I started to plan ways of ending my life. Planning my own death, scene-by-scene, moment-by-moment. I had become obsessed with death. My own. On the night I made the decision to pick the day to end my life I never asked for help skyward as I had before. I didn’t want to, didn’t care to, not this time. Having not slept properly for days I was exhausted. At midnight I slumped into bed with no will to live, and began to cry. Somehow, I did fall asleep but only till three in the morning when I was awakened by the sound of a bird softly chirping. At first I wasn’t sure what was going on. Was I dreaming? What was happening? I opened my eyes and saw that it was still dark out side. My windows were closed. Again I heard a bird chirp. This time louder and closer to my head. I reached over and turned on the bedside light and could not believe what I was looking at. On the dresser beside my bed there was a tiny little bird looking down at me. The bird was chubby, it’s feathers totally disheveled. It looked as if it had been in a storm. It chirped again while continuing to look at me. It didn’t fly away, it didn’t look and act scared, it just sat there staring at me. I slowly pulled the covers back and stepped out of bed. The bird calmly hopped to the floor in front of me and started to walk out of my bedroom. I followed, turning on the main lights as I went behind it. The bird walked as only a bird can into my living room, stopped in front of my coffee table, sat and began looking up at me again. I could not believe this was happening to me. For some reason I walked to the sliding door, which was closed and opened it so the bird could leave. It didn’t. It just sat there chirping and looking at me. I was stunned, and not knowing how to comprehend this event I went to the kitchen and made myself a cup of tea. Even that did not scare the bird. I sat down on the couch and simply stared at the bird. Suddenly it hopped onto the coffee table, chirped a few times while looking at me, then hopped off the coffee table and out the sliding door. By now I was in a state of mind I just don’t know how to describe. In an instant an overwhelming tiredness overcame me and I went back to bed. There were no thoughts running through my mind, nothing. For the first time in weeks I fell into the deepest of sleep. When I woke up everything looked different, felt different to my eyes, my senses. I paint sometimes and that’s what I did that day. Oblivious to bill collectors and my life in general, I painted. The colors flowed, peace flowed, joy flowed, I painted my little Universal Hero, my gift, from the Creator, and deep down inside knew that My life had forever changed. I had finally made it around that one last corner. My Soul had been once again Awakened. Three days later I was asked to come in to help a good friend of mine in the film industry. It would only be for maybe a couple days of work per week, but it was a start. That job lasted ten episodes full time. The day after the little bird left, I was yet stunned once again. While sitting in my living room I heard the familiar chirp of my little hero, as the bird with two more little birds hopped through my open balcony door sat on the carpet, looked at me, chirped, for about ten minutes, then hopped out and left. To this day I haven’t seen that same little bird anymore, but I am now awakened by sometimes a dozen or so little birds sitting in the tree or on my balcony in the morning singing. Needless to say they have become a part of my home as I now have put up a bird feeder to pay them back for the pleasure they give me. Absolutely True story. We Really are Special, all of us, and are Truly Loved by our Creator. I started meditating again for a minimum of one hour per day and it was in one of those meditations that I saw that I was writing this book. The minute I started thinking about why I would commit suicide, and how dangerous, powerful those thoughts were, I received a phone call from my father and now knew what I had to write next.
