Part II
A Recollection of May 15, 1994
Although I had planned on killing myself at 8:00pm, immediately after 60 Minutes, at 4:00pm I decided that I had lived long enough. My life was complete and I was ready to die. I was neither depressed nor in a state of despair - I was neither sad, nervous nor fearful. I was simply comfortable in what I was about to do. I did not look at my life as being almost over because I was content in knowing that death was near and dear.
I took off all my clothes except my underwear. I shut off the TV, closed the window drapes, unlocked the door, pulled back the cover from the bed and fluffed the pillows. I then opened a bottle of Sangria wine, pour a glass and took two Dramamine and six Valium.
Over the next fifty minutes I had a few glasses of wine, smoked a couple of cigarettes, paid some bills and addressed an envelope to the Cape Cod Chronicle newspaper in which I enclosed an article I had written entitled, Homeless in Chatham - a thinly disguised piece about my plight during the winter months before I went to Florida and Ireland.
I put stamps on all the bill envelopes and then wrote a to do list for the next day - listing such mundane chores as, leave article at Chronicle office, go to post office, mail bills, buy stamps, get mail and stop by Jack Conway office.
Along with the envelopes, I placed the to do list on the room's large bureau. I had left my journal and a copy of the book Darkness Visible by William Stryon on the front seat of my car - where they would be easily found in a day or two.
The to do list was a simple diversion to temporarily draw attention away from my actual cause of death. I wanted to be found in bed, giving the initial impression that my death was an accident - either possibly from too much alcohol and from an accidental overdose of medication, or even a heart attack or other natural causes.
The reason for this was not to hide my intentions - for they were clearly and concisely detailed throughout my journals, plus an autopsy would quickly and easily reveal that the toxicity level in my blood was no accident. The reason was to spare my parents the initial shock of being told that my death was a suicide. When my parents were informed of my death, I wanted them to be told that the cause was still unknown and whatever the possibilities may be, suicide would not be readily evident nor, hopefully, even be considered. A day or two later they would know the cause and the reasons why - and that buffer of a day or two, between hearing the news of my death and knowing the cause, was extremely important to me as a way of protecting my parents.
At 5:00pm I placed three small empty Dixie cups on the bureau, took three pill bottles from my suitcase and then poured each of the bottles into one of the Dixie cups.In the first cup were sixty .5mg Xanax tablets, in the second cup sixty 20mg Doral/Quazepam tablets and in the third cup, sixty 50mg Doxepin capsules.
After wrapping the empty pill bottles in a rolled up shirt, I put the shirt into a plastic bag and hid it at the bottom of my suitcase - well below my other clothes, books, notebooks and a small bag of toilet items.
With everything now in order, I knelt and said a brief prayer - asking God's forgiveness for all my sins and asking Saint Michael to protect me and to guide me home.
I then filled a glass with wine and blessed myself. Then, without hesitation and with no second thoughts but with a sense of relief, I emptied the first cup of pills into my mouth and washed them down with the wine. I refilled the glass with wine and repeated the process with the second cup of pills. I quickly refilled the glass again and took the last cup of pills.
As I turned to the bed I remember thinking, "Well, it's all over now." I then immediately collapsed, unconscious, to the floor.
And there I remained. At 12:30pm the following afternoon, nineteen and a half hours after I collapsed, a chambermaid discovered my body and dialed 911.
Recollection written during the summer of 2000 - Sandwich, MA
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