5/31/2008


Busy busy busy. SLAM.

Kevin and I kicked off our 2k8 wedding season with a roadtrip to NC, where I am now. We left yesterday AM. The parents of the woman I work for are visiting from NZ. I give them my room when they visit because I have a full size bed and it's a large room that gives them privacy. I then sleep in the twin bed in Matthew's room. On Wednesday night I headed to bed kind of early, shortly before 10. I was in bed in the dark when I noticed my phone was glowing. I had missed a call from my mom and had a voicemail. I checked the voicemail and there was a message that said, "Hi Cass, it's mom, call me back, will you?" Now, my mom RARELY calls after 10 and if she does she doesn't leave messages like THAT. She would normally say something like, "oh I hope I didn't wake you! I just wanted to ask XYZ or tell you a funny story" or something. I ran to the kitchen with my phone and called back. She answered right away and I asked firmly, "what's wrong?" She said, "why do you think something's wrong?" I told her it was because she doesn't leave messages like that unless someone's died and I want to know what happened. She says to me, "Stan's dead." I am absolutely shocked. I ask how. I thought it would be a heart attack or car crash. She says a phrase I thought I would never, ever hear about anyone I love: "he killed himself."

Let me explain the family tree. Stan was my cousins' uncle. He was the husband of my uncle Bill's sister. Bill's wife, Joy, is my dad's sister. So really, the connection seems like I should hardly know him, but that's far from the truth. Our families are extremely close and every summer since '93, Stan & his family, Joy/Bill and my cousins, and my parents and I have gone to Duck, NC. During those summer weekends when we were NOT at the beach we would all gather at a lake by Stan's house or finally at his house when he put a pool in on Sundays. The year was sprinkled with other get-togethers. He was like another father figure to me. I saw him last at my cousin's birthday dinner in December. He was...off. Not the same jolly guy. Still friendly, definitely different. I find out later that he's been depressed. NONE of us knew HOW depressed he was outside of his wife and sons and maybe his mother. We found out after his death that he slit his wrists in mid-January and was in ICU for a long time. None of us knew. His younger son just turned 16 about a week or week and a half ago. His older son is 18 and a star baseball player. Stan built a real baseball field at their house for the boys' baseball league to hold games at before they started getting into high school sports. He loved baseball and summer and the beach. His wife found him in the basement. He hanged himself.


Housekeeping is here now. I am cutting this short.