August 22, 2019: The night that changed everything for me and mine; The night my husband took his own life, and yes, I literally and physically “felt it happen”. Sufficed to say there are still so many parts of that night and what led up to it that are very unclear in my mind, if not chaotic at times, as this trauma has obviously affected both me and our daughter in unimaginable and irreversible ways. That being said, however, here’s what I do clearly and vividly remember: I was sitting in a room, alone, trying to get a hold of myself and wrap my head around what was happening to my family. But again, yes, at just before midnight on August 22, 2019, I felt it! I had an adrenalin dump, lost my breath (like someone had punched me in the gut and knocked the wind out of me) and then it felt like a knife had plunged my stomach. I, am not, joking. The next morning, August 23rd, the chief of police for our town came to find me with the news, but as he was headed toward me with “that look on his face” that I already knew what he was going to say: He said: “Mrs. Williamson, we did locate your husband in his car this morning with a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head. I am so sorry to inform you that he is in fact deceased.” At which point I literally fell to the ground with a guttural wail that I’m told could probably have been heard for miles. This was the worst feeling I’ve ever had before. Truly. Thank you for asking, and I apologize if this was a little “heavy”.