Sharing the Mike

October 22nd 2004 was a sunny day, with mild weather. The Colorado wind was blowing, not terribly, just enough to tickle the windchimes. Michaelj took a drag from his smoke. Today was his day, he planned on it for a week. His Fiance', Mary opened the door and pestered him while he tried to work through his math homework. She wanted a bite to eat, a cup of coffee and some time alone before she left to pay the bills.

It was Friday. Friday was his day to relax, drink a bit and chew down on a perfectly prepared omelet. Of course it was only perfect because he made it. No one could ever make them as well as he did.

He stood over the stove with two dogs at his feet. He would never leave them out, an omelet each. Through the grease splatter Michaelj made Mary an extra large cappuccino. While finishing their breakfast they chatted about the new house they would be moving into, its a cute one bedroom in the northern part of Denver. She loved the location, he loved the thought of being with her.

After breakfast they piled the dishes in the sink and he went out for another smoke. A reminder of real-life surfaced when he checked the mail that morning. 'Stupid bills,' he muttered under his breath. 'I'll never get out from under this crap.' Around 10:30 he cracked a beer and joined nature on the back patio. The view of the mountains was magnificent. As the wind blew lightly, he sucked on his smoke and sipped at his beer.

Fishing through left breast pocket of his flannel shirt he retrieves a digital recorder. "My name is Michaelj Doyle Albright, thats M-i-c-h-a-e-l-j, all one word, Doyle Albright." he always took pride in that name. He changed it when he was a boy. "Everyone will know me, the star, when I record my first album' was the explanation you'd get after asking why. "My social security number is..." he finished by clicking the recorder off. He put it back in his pocket and finished his beer. Staring toward the south, he could see cars passing by, everyone is always in a hurry.

After another smoke he went inside and sat down at his computer terminal. In the reflection he could see his dry erase board with math problems covering it. Last weeks homework was of no use now. He stood up and erased the board. Sat down, stood up, and re-erased the board, this time with liquid cleaner.

Sitting back down at his terminal he pushed the space bar to suspend the screen saver on his computer. Microsoft Windows 2000 with a backdrop of his Kimber 1911 pistol. He loved that pistol. It was one he and his son had picked out together. Michaelj logged into his hotmail account and started typing an email to his employer, USA Today. After a few lines he stopped, turned on the screensaver and went back outside for a smoke.

Tap and turn, tap and turn, his lighter repeated over and over on the patio furniture as he fumbles for his digital recorder again. "Synopsis, I am a high tech worker, who for the last three or four years has been unemployed or under employed, and I have reached the end of what I have to give." The recorder clicks off, and he drags on his smoke. While its fresh in his mind he clicks the record on again, "Nicholas, take care of things...." He trails on for a minute or two about how to tend to the bills. Another click of the recorder. After another smoke, he makes his way inside, to the beer cache and takes a couple more.

He walked back to his study, kicks his feet up on the desk and marveled at the feeling of the liquid hitting his belly. Fridays really were his day. His day to have a bit to drink, lots to smoke and just be Michaelj. Mary rarely complained about his one day weekends. He worked very hard every other day of the week, he deserved it.

Michaelj spent some time working on a new Java program he was writing for school, but couldn't really get anything accomplished. Today he had other things on his mind. He soon got tired of trying to debug the errors in his program, and went back to writing his email. The email, it turns out, will be a resignation. Enough is enough. What started out as a [censored] session, has turned into a farewell resignation effective today. He is not going to live his life as an underpaid paperboy any longer.

Behind some books was a bottle of vodka, half full. He sipped some straight from the bottle and kicked the words around in his mind. What is the proper way to word this email? What is it that I really want to say?

After a few hours, the wording was still not correct. Michaelj was now a little tipsy from the beer. He tried working on math instead. Numbers suddenly became stick figures like in cartoons. Amusing at best. Ah, another cigarette sounded good. But certainly not before another beer, and another message clip.

For a late lunch Michaelj made tacos. He wasn't able to cook much, but what he could cook he mastered. As he and Mary ate the tacos they talked about the wonderful times to come. After they finished eating they cuddled for awhile.

Pulling another smoke from his pack he told Mary he would be back inside in a bit. He recorded another message. This one was just for her.

After a few minutes Mary joined him on the patio and told him it was time to head into town to run errands. "Would you like to come along?" she asked. His reply was convincing, "No, I'm not feeling all that hot, I'm gonna have another smoke and probably lay down for awhile." She kissed him and left for town. He looked at the clock. Its four in the afternoon. Another day nearly over. He talks to the recorder some more, as life goes on around him. At 5pm he pours the last bit of vodka into a flask.

The now empty bottle of vodka is lined up with the half dozen or so empty beer bottles he had through-out the day. He makes one last attempt on his email. The email sounds right, the proper anger, the proper [censored]ing. Nearly perfect.

His steps are now confident and meaningful. The double shot of courage he just downed from his flask makes him feel all warm inside. From his top dresser drawer he retrieves his .45 caliber Kimber pistol. He polishes it for a moment or two with his shirt tail. Then he holsters the weapon, and tucks the whole rig into the small of his back, unloaded. Reflecting on the last week, he'd spent over $200 in booze and cigarettes. Both of which were almost gone.

Michaelj takes the empty pack of cigarettes and alcohol to the trashcan. Back inside he pets the dogs for a few minutes before finally pushing the SEND button on his strongly worded email. The time is now 5:15. In the fridge there are two bottles of beer. In his shirt pocket, his pack of smokes. Only two left. His flask is three quarters full of vodka.

He stumbles out to the garage, toasted. He sets the beers on the table. One falls off, "damn, misjudged the location of the table." It shatters at his feet. To late, can't fix that now.

Michaelj retrieves his cellphone and scrolls to the numbers for each of his kids. The only scrap paper in the garage is the piles and piles of unwanted USA Today newspapers. He pulls a section out of the paper on top, and carefully takes his time to write down two phone numbers. He triple checks to be sure he got them both right. Then he lays his cellphone on top of the phone numbers, so that they are likely to be found.

Michaelj loads up his remaining beer, flask, two cigarettes and handgun, and leaves the house. For about 6 minutes he walks, tripping a few times. On the way he works on finishing whats left in his flask. When he gets to a nice spot, he finds himself in the middle of a field. It has a great view of the Colorado mountains, he lays down and looks at the now bright red sky. He was on a rarely used dirt road only a couple hundred feet from the house where he has spent the last six months of his life.

Fishing his digital recorder out of his pocket he starts talking. Through tears and the wind he tells Mary he loves her very much, and that he feels she can do better then him. Over and over he repeats the same phrase, "I love you." After 12 minutes, he states, "I'm going to have one last cigarette, and finish my beer. These are the last two pleasures." For the last time he turned the tape recorder off and dried his tears.

He tells himself he needs to be focused if he's going to go through with this. He lets the empty beer bottle fall out of his hand, walks a few feet and places his personal belongings in a pile. After saying a quiet prayer, he inserts the magazine into the gun. Then he racks the slide. 'Hollow points, my choice is final.'

-

At approximately 5:40 pm on October 22nd my father, Michaelj, took his life with a single gunshot. His body was found by a neighbor only minutes later, who called 911. Death was pronounced at the scene.

Mary had left for only a few hours. During this time she was withdrawing money to use as a deposit on a new house they had just signed for. The police made contact with Mary's son in law, who called and told Mary to come home.

I often find myself asking why. I know one thing for sure; besides being a loving man who cherished music and computers, he also gave to those who needed it. He is a man to be proud of. His achievements are hard to count. He spoke so much of a program he helped design and write while employed with Sun Microsystems. The program earned a patent and his name is actually on that patent. Every day for a month solid he called me and gave the patent number. He was so proud of his hard work, and so am I.

We all thought he was dealing with depression well. Many even questioned if he ever had the symptoms.

His life was back on track, so the explanations elude us. His three wonderful grandchildren spent a great deal of time with him, his soon to be wife, his new house, attending school.....on the outside everything appeared better than normal. Sadly we can never know what was happening inside.

I am well aware of the grieving process. The anger period hit me while attending his memorial service. A photo slide show of my dad started making my daughter cry. She understood he was gone, and it would be along time before she would see him again. The pictures of the two of them together were overwhelming for her. Choking on tears she tried to express her feelings.

Although she is only four years old, her feelings are well developed. That was the moment I filled with anger. How could this jerk make my daughter cry!? Who the hell was he, making her have these feelings of sadness. Had he been alive, I'd have beat the living crap out of him.

Now that I am through the majority of the anger, I am focused on the why and the how. Eventually I will let the questions go, and accept that what happened most certainly happened because of a choice he made. No one put the thoughts in his head, no one would change his mind.

I understand that in my head, but my heart does not. After compiling all my thoughts, and dads paperwork, we have established that the why may be answered with just $5,000 worth of debt. Maybe it was something else. Maybe he felt we held him to a higher standard then he was able to achieve. He made reference to failing quite frequently. If he only knew how much he accomplished maybe his choice would have been different.

All those are just maybes. The only thing we know for sure is he had just a few thousand dollars worth of bills. Sadly anyone of the people at that memorial service would have given a hundred times that to help him make a better decision. He just had to ask. Part of stubbornness is the unwillingness to ask for help to fix a problem.

You may ask why I wrote this reconstruction. Or why you should trace my fathers steps. The reason is quite simply because education is the only cure for ignorance. It is my hope that after you read this you will understand that suicide doesn't end the pain. It just deflects it to another person.

Not one day has gone by without my eyes glazed over with tears. Not one day has gone by where someone doesn't ask "is there anything I can do?" The answer is; Hell yes there is! Go home, right this minute. I want you to walk up to someone you love be it your mother, sister, brother, father, cousin, spouse, child or friend. Talk to that person. I want you to start your conversation with the words "I love you, because," and if it doesn't take you at least a lifetime to finish, find another person and tell them too.