My life was changed forever on August 24, 2009. 

I was awakened by my son at 4:00am. He said he needed a breathing treatment. When I got up to get his nebulizer, I noticed our front door was open. I walked to the door and saw my husband in a chair on the porch. At first, I thought he was passed out. He was an alcoholic that had been on a binge all weekend. When I opened the screen door, I noticed a spot on his shirt. I stepped back to see his service weapon on the floor under his chair. I walked in the house and told Johnathon to stay in his room. I then called 911. While on the phone with 911, the operator asked me to take my husband's pulse. I knew I didn't need to. His body was cold to the touch. When the police arrived, I called my parents, priest, and Bryan's family. These were all calls that I never thought I would make. After Bryan was taken away, my son and I went to my parents' house. From that point on I was in my daze. That morning at approximately 8:30 I received a phone call. The caller ID said it was from Bryan. I was startled for a minute, replaying the morning's events. When I answered the phone it was his place of employment. Bryan was a parole agent. I told them he had committed suicide with his service weapon. The days that followed were an emotional roller coaster as one would expect. I was devastated to see the front page of the newspaper with the story of Bryan's suicide. Rumors were started as a result of this. The viewing and the funeral followed soon after. Bryan was provided a typical Catholic funeral. His family participated in the services. Friends and co-workers swarmed the services. My emotions were numb. My mind was a blur. Everything seemed surreal.

After people faded back into their lives, my son and I began our new lives. I was now a single mother, a 35 year old widow, and alone. As everyone does, I reconstructed the weekend, trying to pick a part what had caused this decision. Bryan didn't leave a note. Everything was a mystery. On the outside, Bryan was a jovial, extroverted, friendly man. On the inside, Bryan struggled with alcoholism and various demons from his past. Bryan had been diagnosed as bi-polar several years prior. Often, in a drunken stupor, he would threaten suicide. For 10 years we battled all these demons together.

Shortly after he passed away, I started going to therapy. I learned that nothing I did or said caused his death. I often remind myself of something one of Bryan's friends told me. He told me I gave Bryan 10 years he didn't have. What he meant was Bryan had a history of threatening suicide. If it hadn't been suicide, it would have been the alcohol that killed him. Bryan had shown signs by becoming a recluse. He didn't talk in terms of the future. He was just going through the motions. Bryan refused to get help no matter how much I begged him.

The Year of Firsts have come and gone. The first missed birthdays, holidays, anniversary were all spent in a daze. But I survived them. After two years, I have tried to continue living. I exercise almost every day. I am a graduate student. I have a career, not just a job. My son is a lively, active, and energetic 14 year old. Bryan's son has graduated college and started his career. I would not have been able to see the light at the end of the tunnel if I didn't have the support of my family and friends. I have leaned on various people through the healing. Each family member or friend serves their purpose when I need them. My therapist has offered several ideas to heal healthy. I try to meditate on those ideas and implement them.   I hope to be a model of a survivor. My husband died, not me! I want my story to be one of hope and inspiration to survivors. I know the pain, the emptiness and the feeling of loss can be unbearable at times, but life will go on. I refuse to have my husband's legacy be his suicide. I know he would be proud of the person I have become. Bryan would be proud of our children's successes. 

That is the legacy of Bryan Richard Kerrigan.

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