Kirby Puckett 1960-2006

I remember when some sports star from my father's or grandfather's era would pass away. My dad or grandpa would tell me about games they watched these sports star play in. I'd listen to their stories but in the back of my mind think how old that made may father or grandfather seem. The sports stars of my generation were still playing and it seemed at the time they would play forever.

Needless to say, I was surprised to hear last week that Kirby Puckett died at the age of 45. Though he played for the rival Minnesota Twins (the team thanks in part to Pucket's effort, that denied the Tigers a shot at the '87 World Series) he was a player I always admired not only because of his exceptional all-around baseball skills but because he was always one of those athletes that kept his nose clean. When he made the news it was because of his baseball skills, not because of contract negotiations or problems with the law.

Since my boys are too young to listen to or care about Kirby Puckett, Marathon Girl became my sounding board. And the entire time I talked to her about him, couldn't help but feel old.

More about that new job

I started blogging in 2000 -- about a year before my first wife died. My first blog was political in nature. (I'm not going to give out the blog's URL, but the curious can find it from this page in about four clicks of the mouse.) My blog consisted of whatever political insights I could type up during my lunch breaks at work. Though few people read it, I enjoyed writing political commentary. After my first wife died, I tried to keep the political blog going, but my passion for politics was gone. So I ended my political blog and started my widower blog.

It took several years for my interest in politics to be rekindled but eventually I became just as passionate about it as I was before the first wife died. (This took a little bit of adjusting on Marathon Girl's part for while we were dating and the first year we were married, I discussed politics very little.)

Occasionally a political post or two has made its way into this blog, though I've done my best to keep my political opinions off of this website as the main goal of this site is not political in nature. (That being said, there's enough of my personal views in my Suicide Survivor article and other pieces I've posted on this site that it would be easy to guess what direction I lean politically.)

So why am I writing about this?

Back in January I mentioned I took a new job and I mentioned that it was my dream job and I'd provide more information about it later.

Well, here's more information: my new job duties include writing political commentary. If you want to read what I write, click here.

Unless the topic is related to the message of this blog in some way, it's my intent to keep political commentary separate from this website since it serves a non-political purpose and audience. But for those who want to check up on my political writings, I've added a "My Political Writings" link under the Must Read sidebar of the blog. I've also updated my bio with links too. If anyone does want to discuss politics with me, I would rather keep it off these pages, but you can always send me an email.

Look for a regular, non-political post in the next day or two.

Suicide Survivor

About a year ago I became acquainted with a new term: suicide survivor. It was in an email from a woman whose husband had recently killed himself. She had read both my current and old blog and was looking for advice to help her make it through another day as a suicide survivor.

I found the term suicide survivor confusing. But with a little research I realized that the term didn't refer to one who attempted suicide and survived; rather, it refer to the loved ones left behind.

I reread the woman's email, and pondered what to say to her. Usually I can find some pearl of wisdom or my own experience to be of help to those who email me.

But this time my mind was blank.

After a few days I emailed her back. I can't remember what I said but I was left with the feeling that my words wouldn't be of much help or comfort.

Then a few months later another email arrived from a different suicide survivor. I replied but again felt my words would be of little comfort.

But the emails kept coming. Every few months another suicide survivor contacted me wanting to know how I put my life together. And every time I'd shoot off an email and think I really had nothing to say.

The emails from those suicide survivors lurk around in my mind and during an occasional quiet moment, I ponder what I could have shared with them that would have been of some value.

Though it's taken awhile to gather some thoughts on the subject, I finally have some words to share.

So to those suicide survivors who have wanted to know how I put my life back together and I learned to live again, this is for you.

Suicide Survivor

It's been said that time heals all wounds.

That may be true in matters of love. But the suicide of a loved one is a unique monster. The scars remain long after the person had died. Anger, feelings of betrayal, and lingering questions can last a lifetime.

It's been four and a half years since my first wife killed herself.

I can still hear the sound of the gunshot echoing from our bedroom. The acrid smell of gun smoke still stings my nostrils. The memories of that day are just as vivid as the moment they happened.

Memories of that day will never fade.

That is probably for the best.

***

After my first wife died, I labeled myself a widower.

I was no longer Abel. I wasn't a brother, a son, or a friend. I was a widower – a victim of my first wife's suicide. And for a long time, I thought I'd never be anything more than someone whose wife had died when he was 26.

Looking back I see the widower label hindered my ability to grow emotionally. And I started thinking that everyone else viewed me as a widower instead of Abel.

When I started dating again, I worried that the women I dated would only be able to see me as a widower. I never thought that someone out there would be able to see the positive things about me.

But someone did.

As my relationship with Marathon Girl become more intense, I realized a choice needed to be made. I could continue to think of myself as a widower, or I could become Abel again.

I chose to become Abel.

And with that choice came emotional growth, a wonderful relationship, and a more positive outlook on life.

So what does that have to do with being a suicide survivor?

Labeling yourself a suicide survivor is will stunt your spiritual and emotional growth just as much as labeling myself a widower did.

You're not a suicide survivor. You're a friend, a son or daughter, a brother or sister, a husband or wife, a mother or father. Think of yourself as James or Betty – whatever your name is. Think of yourself as anything other than a suicide survivor.

You didn't become a suicide survivor by choice.

So don't let the unfortunate actions of others define who you are. Don't let their bad decisions stop you from living your life.

***

Before my first wife took her own life, I never knew anyone who had killed themselves. Suicide was one of those things I thought was something reserved for depressed teenagers, the businessmen who had lost everything and couldn't live with the debt they had incurred, or those who were severely mentally ill.

Occasionally I heard stories about a friend of a friend of a friend who had committed suicide. These stories always seemed to be told in hushed tones as if to indicate they were never to be repeated. But in reality, the whispered conversations only emphasized to me suicide wasn't something ever to be discussed.

It wasn't until after my first wife died that I really understood why the someone's sucidie, was discussed in quiet way: no one really knows why a person would take his or her own life.

In the weeks or months that followed my first wife's death, I saw that very question in the eyes of family and friends: Why had my first wife killed herself? Their sad expressions pleaded for an answer that I didn't have.

Four and a half years later, I still don't know why my first wife killed herself.

And I probably never will.

It was difficult to learn to be okay with not knowing answers I desperately sought. When bad things happen, we want some justification for our lives being upended. For months I pondered my first wife's family history of mental illness or the incredible stress she was under in the weeks leading up to her death.

I soon learned that thinking about the reasons for her suicide were pointless.

Why?

The truth won't change what happened. Agonizing over the past would not bring my wife back from the dead.

Instead thinking about questions that could never be answered in this life, I started thinking about what I could learn from the experience and turn a negative into a positive.

Do the same.

Don't dwell on what you don't know.

Concentrate on your blessings and lessons learned.

***

Those who have lost a loved one to suicide and read my old blog always seem to have the same question: Where was my anger? Was I not upset that my wife killed herself?

The answer is yes, I was angry. Very angry.

The reason my anger doesn't appear in that blog is because I couldn't write when I was angry. But that doesn't mean the anger wasn't there.

I never knew what it was like to truly hate someone like I hated my first wife in the months following her death. I was mad that she killed herself and furious that she shortened the life of our unborn daughter in the process.

The anger was so intense that my first wife was blamed for anything that went wrong in my life.

Bad day at work? I blamed my dead wife.

Car problems? I blamed my dead wife.

The Broncos lost a football game? I blamed my dead wife.

My anger was so bad that I couldn't even write about how my first wife died on my old blog. Every time I tried to write about her suicide, I found myself typing out some drivel that I ended up deleting.

So for nine months I hid the manner of my wife's death from the readers of my blog just so I could write a coherent sentence.

At some point, however, I realized just how unproductive all that anger toward my dead wife was.

And once I could put the anger aside, I found my outlook on life improved. I found a richness to living I hadn't noticed before.

I'm not saying anger is a bad thing. I think anger toward someone who has killed themselves is beneficial. It's a natural emotion and part of the healing process.

But prolonged anger will eat at your soul.

So be angry at the person who took their own life. Scream your hatred into a mirror. Dance on their grave if it will make you feel better.

Then get over it.

Clear your soul.

Move on.

***

Let's go back to the beginning. The part where I mentioned it was for the best that memories of my first wife's suicide are still a vivid part of my memories.

Those memories remind me how short life is and how fortunate I am to be blessed with a second wife and two wonderful children.

The memories remind me to live every day to the fullest, to take nothing for granted and let those whom I love know how much I love them.

So to those who have lost a loved one to suicide, I'll say this: go and live your life. You live in a beautiful world that offers endless possibilities.

Don't wallow in misery, sorrow and anger.

Embrace life and choose to live.

***

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More widower-related articles by Abel Keogh

  • Up with Grief NEW!
  • Dating and Marriage: One Regret NEW!
  • Widowers: They're Still Men! NEW!
  • 10 Dating Tips for Widows and Widowers
  • Photos of the Dead Wife
  • 5 Signs a Widower is Serious About Your Relationship
  • How Vice President Joe Biden Dealt with Grief
  • Life with a Widower
  • Dating a Widower
  • The Grief Industry
  • Suicide Survivor
  • A Letter to Elizabeth
  • Sex and Intimacy with Widowers
  • The Widowerhood Excuse
  • How to Talk to a Widower
  • Red Flags to Watch for When Dating A Widower

    • Three years and counting

    Marathon Girl,

    Three years ago today you agreed to be my wife and made me the happiest man in the world.

    I'm looking forward to spending the rest of our lives and eternity together.

    Abel

    Six more weeks of winter

    I find myself wishing the snow would stay a few more weeks.

    Usually forty degree temperatures and brown lawns in the neighborhood brings a smile to my face. It means warmer mornings for running, longer days, and that baseball season is right around the corner.

    But this year is different.

    I wouldn't mind a few more weeks of winter.

    The reason for this sudden change is Aidan.

    He loves the snow. He loves playing in it. He loves touching it. But what he loves the most is helping his dad shovel the driveway and sidewalks. (He loves this activity so much that I'll admit that I've been disappointed a few times when forecast has called for lots of snow and we end up with nothing on the ground.)

    Take Saturday. An overnight snow storm dumped two inches of white powder.

    After Aidan was ready for the day I asked. "Do you want to shovel snow with Daddy?"

    Aidan babbled something excitedly and ran to find his boots and coat. A few minutes later we were outside shoveling snow.

    Well, I was shoveling.

    Aidan was raking snow. (Since we only have one snow shovel, Aidan uses our garden rake.)

    But Aidan doesn't care what tool he has. He's just happy to be playing in the snow with Dad.And while I shoveled the driveway and sidewalk Aidan followed me around, pushing the rake in front of him.

    Though I'm sure warming temperatures will bring something new the two of us can do together, I'm going to miss the expression on his face when in the mornings when he looks out the window and realizes there was new snow on the ground.

    Thank you Arizona Sarah

    Thanks to Arizona Sarah for explaining the cost issue associated with the vaccines. (I forgot she worked in the insurance industry.)

    According to Sarah:

    Under an insurance plan, there is a negotiated cost for every service - shots, physicals, face-lifts, everything.When there is no insurance, there is only a "whole-sale" cost.So what happens to the difference, you ask?Well, depends on the insurance carrier; some doctors will charge $50 and get paid $50 by the insurance company. Most will charge $50 and get paid $10 or $11 (the negotiated cost of the shot).The excessive costs are often from the physicians, not the insurance companies. When the cost is higher than the "wholesale", it is usually the result of a combination of the doctor over-charging and the insurance company agreeing to over-pay it to keep the dollars coming in and out of both sides of the industry up at an inflated level.

    And we wonder why health insurance costs are so high.

    Addendum: Hit Coffee had the following insight:

    I can't speak on vaccines, but in other areas of medicine it actually makes sense for doctors to charge insurance companies more than they charge patients. If you pay cash then they know that they're going to get their money right then and there. When the insurance company involves, at best their payment will be delayed. Often the insurance companies will find ways not to pay and then time and effort have to be expended getting the money from the patient.

    For example, I visited the doctor a while back about persistent headaches. Persistent headaches are covered, but I was trying to quit smoking at the time, and both my doctor and I found out later that anything due to drug-cessation (including tobacco) were not covered. There are enough technicalities that except for the most routine stuff, a doctor doesn't know for sure whether the insurance company will cover it. When they don't, they have to go through collecting procedures that cost money.

    And no matter who ends up paying, payment is both delayed and costs more in man-hours and paperwork to collect. It's all a very inefficient way of going about it. My wife is a medical resident, I have good benefits, but I still pay cash whenever I can.

    Vaccines cost less without health insurance

    While vaccines might cost less without health insurance, the cost of other health services can be deflected with the help of great affordable health insurance. The cost of obtaining quality health insurance can seem like a lot, but the benefits of insurance should outweigh the costs. It’s easy now to find cheap health insurance if you know where to look.
    Due to the job switch, the family is temporarily without health insurance. (Fortunately, we should have some by the end of the month). While Marathon Girl and I have been working to find some coverage, Steven's four month checkup came due. Paying for the checkup wasn't an issue but with the routine vaccines Steven needed, Marathon Girl worried that the doctor's visit was going to be somewhat expensive.

    I told Marathon Girl that since we didn't have insurance, the vaccines would probably cost less. Though I wasn't 100 percent sure, I remembered a story a coworker at my last place of employment told me. A few years ago he was in a similar situation (no health insurance and his daughter needed some shots). When he told the doctor he didn't have health insurance, the doctor told him that the vaccines would cost less.

    Marathon Girl called me after the appointment to tell me I was right.. Shots without health insurance are a lot less expensive. A shot that would be billed to health insurance as $50 cost us only $11. Another would have cost $60 if we had insurance only cost us $10.

    I know the health insurance industry is messed up and is in dire need of some market-related reforms. But the fact that shots cost that much less without insurance is a bit perplexing. I understand there are some overhead costs when dealing with insurance companies but I would expect the cost to be a couple of dollars here and there, not $39 or so per vaccine.

    If anyone can provide some insight as to why there's such a cost discrepancy, leave a comment or send me an email.

    Enjoy Being Lost

    Somewhere in the back of my mind I keep thinking that writers of Lost are going to blow it. Every week I think there's no way the can keep the tension up or make a character of the show any more real or complex. But each Wednesday they deliver one incredible episode after another. Last night's episode was excellent and one where Marathon Girl couldn't call the ending. (She has a knack for calling out what's going to happen by the end of the show after the first five minutes.) I'm jealous. I'd really like to write for show or, at the very least, learn from those guys how to write believable plots and characters. And for those who feel like it's too late to jump into the show, ABC will be airing the two hour premiere next Wednesday. If its something that you like go rent or buy the first season on DVD. There should be enough reruns between now and season three that you can catch up on anything you've missed.

    Valentine's Day Balloons

    Marathon Girl thought it would be nice to get the kids something for Valentine's Day. So on the way home from work yesterday she called and asked if I could pick up some Valentine's Day balloons for Aidan and Steven. I told Marathon Girl I'd be happy to oblige.

    Aidan loves helium-filled balloons. Every time we go to the store and walk by the balloons Aidan points to them and says "ballooooo." As I drove to the store, I pictured Aidan's face tomorrow morning when he'd wake up and see balloon in the living room.

    Then I get to the store.

    It's a mad house.

    Men are running around like a bunch gnus being hunted by lions. They're throwing flowers and chocolates in their card then making a beeline for the card aisle where they start fighting over the perfect card for the love of their life.

    I shake my head. I learned my lesson last year. I bought something for Marathon Girl ten days ago.

    Fortunately everyone seemed to be leaving the balloons alone. There was a large selection to choose from. I looked through the balloons trying to find a nice one for Aidan and Steven. I finally selected a shiny red and black balloon that says Happy Valentine's Day for Aidan and a heart shaped one for Steven.

    As I headed toward the self checkout line, a man raced toward me. He had the familiar look of my-love-will-kill-me-if-I-don't-buy-something-nice on his face.

    "Where did you get those?" he said pointing to the balloons.

    "Over there by the flowers," I said.

    "Flowers!" the man said. "I forgot the flowers!" He runs off saying something about his wife liking roses.

    I bought the balloons and headed home. I parked the car in the garage and left the balloons in the car. I could hear Aidan knocking on the door leading from the garage to the kitchen. He knew daddy was home.

    Aidan was happy to see me. After dinner we played with his toys until bedtime.

    As I put Aidan to bed, I hoped he would wake up earlier than usual tomorrow so I could see the look on his face when he sees the balloons in the morning.

    I got my wish.

    Five minutes before I left for work, I heard Aidan in his room. I opened his door and asked if he wanted breakfast. Aidan comes running out of his room. He stopped suddenly before he reached the kitchen. The two balloons are floating in the air above his chair.

    "Ballooo!" he said pointing excitedly at the balloons. He grabbed the red ribbon attached to one and pulled it down so he can hold it. Then he lets it go and watches it bounce off the ceiling before grabbing it again. "Ballooo!" he said again.

    "Happy Valentine's Day, Aidan," I said.

    I kissed the top of his head before I left for work. Even in the garage I could hear Aidan say "Ballooo!" over and over.

    I left for work with a smile on my face, quite sure, for once, it was bigger than Aidan's.