She walked out of his small trailer and he put a gun into his mouth and ended his life. Obviously, this incident affected Marie significantly and I think she always carried a measure of undeserved guilt in her heart over it. Ever since I knew her, she never liked guns and certainly never liked to be around them.
We lived gun-free for the nearly thirty years we were together. To this day, I really have no desire or feel the need to own one. I know there are many people that carry them with the fear of some situation where they perceive they might need such protection. I do not. I always figured if someone shoots me then so be it and that the risks I would take to “protect” myself with a firearm aren’t worth the risks of someone else getting hurt by accident if I had such a weapon. But even more so, there are already enough fears in an everyday heart and I want less of them.
In one of our really old photo albums, there is a photograph of Bob and it reminds me of the suffering in his own life as well as the immense suffering unleased unto others. I feel a bit of tempered anger towards him for how this impacted Marie’s life.
A good friend of mine once shared this: “A life lived in fear, is a life half-lived” and it seems to make all the sense in the world to me.