Mayday, May Day!

I couldn’t decide which “may day” to use for the post title.  The post is about May (among other things), but in a “mayday” sort of way.  It’s a month of mixed feelings for me.  I got married in May.  Plus there’s Mother’s Day, graduations, my grandmother’s birthday, and (usually) really pretty weather.  It's a great month.  But it also takes a toll on my family, literally.  We have more funerals in May than any other month—three this year.  It’s weird.  My mom passed away on Memorial Day (long ago--but honestly, if you have to go on a holiday, that’s the most appropriate one). 

I’d like to share a story about the May night I thought I might lose a brother and for a moment, myself (we’re both fine).  It was just before my second wedding anniversary.  My wife and I talked about it the night it happened (of course), but I have only shared the story with one other person.  It’s one of those things people don’t talk about, but probably should.

By coincidence, my brother and I were living a block apart at the time.  I was working full-time and going to school at night, so we didn’t see each other.  But my wife spent time with his wife, toddler son and newborn daughter.  She enjoyed that, until my SIL started to suspect my brother was cheating on her.  He was (non-stop, almost since the day they married).  In mid-May the SIL found proof, packed up the kids and moved in with her parents.  My brother was devastated. 

At 3am Sunday morning, my phone rang.  It was my dad.  He quickly told me what had happened and that my brother was at home, planning to shoot himself.  He'd called our parents to say goodbye.  The parents were heading out of their house, but it would take them 30 minutes to get there.  I was two minutes away.  My dad asked me to go stop him.

I pulled on pants, stepped into shoes and ran the block to my brother's townhouse.  The door was locked.  I could see a front window was open, but it was too high to reach from the ground.  I had to climb over the porch railing and jump for the window.  After knocking out the screen, I crawled in.  (Who knew the experience I gained breaking into my parent's house as a teen would ever come in handy???)  Once inside I turned on the lights and unlocked the front door.  I didn't see my brother, but I could hear him.  He was upstairs, wailing.

When I got to the top of the stairs I told him it was me.  He yelled at me to leave, I told him I couldn't.  I reached into his bedroom and turned on the light.  What I saw shocked me.  I'd seen him in primal rages of anger, but that night he looked...different.  The sight brought to mind the image of an animal caught in one of those vicious metal traps, panicked and in terrible pain.  Then I noticed he was pointing a gun at me.  He yelled at me to turn off the light.  I obliged him.  I didn't think he would shoot me, but accidents happen.  I moved back around the corner.

I had no idea what to do next.  Our parents were still 25 minutes away.  I started talking to him.  I asked what happened, why he was doing this.  I told him he didn't have to lose his family, his marriage didn't have to be over if he didn't want it to be.  I told him his kids needed a father, that he could rebuild his marriage.  That didn't work.  He said he was going to shoot himself.  So I told him he couldn't do that to ME.  How could I live with myself if he shot himself while I just sat there.  That made him mad, but in a different way.  I was hoping it would.  He said I couldn't make this about me.  Then I talked about how what we do affects others.  While we argued about that, the front door opened.  I considered the possibility that it was a thief and not my parents, but either way I was glad to have someone else there.  Of course it was the parents.  My dad came upstairs.  Soon my brother handed me his gun and went home with them.

Was he really going to shoot himself?  I don't know.  Maybe that was just his way of calling mayday, sending out an emergency call for help.  We helped him, that night and for months afterwards.  Eventually his wife took him back.  To show his gratitude, he started cheating on her again--repeatedly.  Years (and two more kids) later she threw him out.

PS - I didn't know what to say to my brother that night.  But in the end that didn't really matter.  I think just being there was the important thing.  That was an extreme case, but I believe we can all do a lot of good just by giving a few minutes of our time to others...letting them talk, letting them feel like someone is listening.  You never know if that small thing might be what keeps the person from sinking into a dark, desperate place.  No one should have to go there.