Dear Montel

I was sincerely grateful when you noticed my story and spoke about it on television in January. Before that night I was convinced no one cared. You gave me the strength to keep fighting for Veteran Suicide Awareness and Prevention. The truth is I can't change a thing that's happened to my family but I can help others from feeling this black hole of emptiness after their loved one takes their life.  My story has become a cautionary tale. It's everyone's "worst nightmare". Just today a friend told me she "thinks of us often and it gives her perspective. Things can always be worse."  I could only giggle because I don't feel like anyone's worst case scenario. Life has handed us a really tough hand.

I want my story to be heard. I want others to know they aren't alone. I want it to be known that this is happening to military families every single day. My story is NOT unique. Sharing this is not to lay blame on any person, group, or organization. It's for awareness. It's for support. It's in appreciation to people like you,  those fighting for veterans and their families.

My husband was a Marine for 20 years. We have three children. In 2013 he retired and we moved back to our hometown in Missouri. He had suffered with PTSD for nearly a decade. Despite my constant urging to see a doctor he remained in denial until the very end. He said it was just the stress of the Marines and once he retired he could finally relax. I wanted to believe it.

135 days after retiring, on an average Sunday evening he walked past me with the rifle his dad bought him for Father's  Day.  I was immediately in a panic. He walked into our bedroom and closed the door. As I went to follow him and ask what he was doing I heard him rack the rifle. The door swung open and he brushed past me. He began to walk down stairs toward where my children were sleeping. I dialed 911 and followed him down. My first instinct was to get between him and our sleeping babies. 

I managed to push him into the garage and close the door. He pushed back several time and then stopped. I held my breath and waited to be shot through the door. I had no choice but to stand there. Directly behind me lie sleeping my sweet 6 and 8 year old children. I told myself if he did shoot I would stop the bullet with my body and my body slumped over on the door would prevent the him from getting to them. I also knew he was shooting with Full Metal Jackets. He told me all about them before. They are designed to go through and through, not expand like a typical bullet. I thought at least passing through me would slow the bullet down. It's so weird the thoughts racing in your head at times like that.

Just as I was praying to God to not let it hurt too much and to protect my kids I heard a shot. It was the most unique sound I ever heard. Nothing like you see on television. It did not echo. There was no ricochet or groan. Dead silence.

I looked down at my body and realized I hadn't been shot. I noticed the phone in my hand still and told the 911 operator I heard a shot. She told me to grab my kid and run away from the house as fast as I could. So we did. I woke them up and we ran. I kept my body behind them as we left for the same reason as I did at the door. If that was a warning shot he could still be behind us. I could hear my heart beating as we ran to a neighbors house knocking frantically. She opened the door and we ran in. For a split second I felt safe...then I realized by running into her home I have just put her life at risk. If he is behind us he could hurt her too.

What happened after that is still a blur. I remember a swat team perched in the windows of all the houses in our cul-de-sac. I remember it taking hours for them to get inside our house. They knew he was a Marine and shot expert with a rifle. They took every precaution because of that.

I remember an officer coming to me asking about his tattoos. I was in such shock I couldn't recall which side of his body each tattoo was placed. Then I asked why do you need to know that. It was hours after that I was notified he was dead. One shot to his head.

But that was just the beginning of our story.

About a week later we learned his life insurance expired 120 days after retiring. He died 2 weeks after the cut off.

About a month after he died I was hospitalized and diagnosed with PTSD. That same week I was fired from my job. My boss said my PTSD was not conducive to the high stress and demand of the position I held.

We were not rated for DIC through the VA because he hadn't seen a doctor for PTSD since retiring. His death still isn't labeled service connected.

The VA would not transfer his post 911 education benefits to me so that I could have a shot at making a life for me and the kids.

The VA lost his entire medical record from 20 years of service.

We qualify for absolutely nothing though the VA. Not a single thing.

He's dead, I'm a widow trying to raise kids on my own with a newly diagnosed disorder on top of my pre-existing autoimmune disease. I'm alone.

Because of the lack of money, I had no choice but to live in the same house he died in for nearly a year. I walked past the spot he died daily. It was traumatic but I had no choice. The landlord told me he understood if we had to move and would not penalize us for breaking the lease. I couldn't afford it at first. I saved for months and moved us back to San Diego where my kids spent most of their life. Their "home". My landlord didn't keep his promise instead he took it to court.

Just one of the many reasons my credit is absolutely worthless since he died. I don't even have a vehicle. But I can feed my kids and we're still together.

Life can be unfair. If I can help others by sharing my story I will gladly lay my soul bare. This is the aftermath of veteran suicide. I've heard suicidal people say life would be better without them. Does this seem better? GET HELP. REACH OUT. LIFE CAN GET BETTER BUT IT CAN AL SO GET A WHOLE LOT WORSE.

Thank you Montel for using your voice for change.