We arrived home at 5.30am. Even now we both find it amazing that we actually made it without being in an accident. It was raining quite hard, and it was foggy. We were tired, distraught and careless, but we did make it.
We arrived home at dawn. The street was quiet. The house was deserted. Daniel had phoned me during the drive home and asked if it would be alright if he stayed with his uncle. I told him that I didn’t expect him to stay at the house on his own, and to come over whenever he was ready in the morning.
We know that there were six police cars parked out front during the night, plus a forensics van. We also knew that the police had gone through everything inside the house and garage. We were expecting to feel violated when we got home, but upon entering the house nothing had been left out of place. If Daniel hadn’t told us, we would never have known.
The house was cold and empty, much like our bodies. It felt like we had walked into a giant void. There was nothing homely about the place. It felt like a sterile building only.
We stepped over the threshold, and the emotions bubbled up inside me. I went straight to Barry’s room and fell apart all over again. No words can ever describe the anguish I felt.
We roamed around the house, looking for a suicide note. Anything to suggest why this terrible thing had happened, but there was nothing. That’s what the police were looking for too. We did, however, find a warrant on the kitchen bench. The police were investigating a “murder”. That cut me to the core and I wondered if Daniel realised that he was a suspect.
At this time the feelings running through my body were swift and vague. They mounted and erupted, then turned to something else within minutes of each other. Words were not spoken. What could be said at such a time?
I made my first phone call – to my mum. It was before 6am, but I needed the support and comfort of my parents. I remember the scream my mother let out, but I can’t remember the words we shared.
The entire day flew by in a vague blur of tears and disbelief. People arrived at the house to hug me and tell me how sorry they were. Flowers were thrust into my arms. Yet I remember little of those hours.
Daniel arrived and it was as if a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I realised then, that my greatest fear was that Daniel might follow his brother into death. These thoughts tortured my mind and while my surviving son was standing in front of me, I knew that he was safe. I had to keep him safe at all costs. Together, we searched, desperate to find a reason why Barry took his own life. It became the only thing that gave us energy to carry on.
Click here to go to Part 7: The Consuming Fear