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This memorial website was created in the memory of a beloved man, Thomas (Dickie) Marshall who was born in Virginia on November 29, 1950 and passed away on January 05, 2005 at the age of 54. We miss his presence daily.
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Click here to see Thomas Marshall's Family Tree |
 Tributes and Condolences |
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On her birthday / Kelly Charron (Daughter)
I wish you were here now more than ever. Today is Mom's birthday and it's sure to be a difficult day. Ask Jesus to comfort her today and in the days to come. |
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We remember / Elaine His (wife)
In the rising of the sun and its going down,
We Remember Them.
In the blowing of the wind and in the chill of winter,
We Remember Them.
In the opening of the buds and in the rebirth of spring.
We Remember The...
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Hello Dickie / Kelly Charron (daughter)
Hello Dickie, 'tis I your daughter! I just wanted to let you know that I am thinking of you. |
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x-mas '06 / Ron P. (BIL)
well my brother , a x-mas passes me without our presence , it's very hard to understand . your scrimp eating buddy misses you too . i can still hear your voice in my mind when i would call to talk to my sister , but before sis got on we would talk al...
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With a kiss and many tears / Elaine Dickie's (Wife)
Merry Christmas My Love |
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Ealine this is sandij from widows net / Sandij Ginn (new friend of elaine ) Read >> |
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A double birthday today / Elaine M. (wife) Read >> |
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Another birthday passes / Elaine (wife) Read >> |
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A Prayer / K. Charron (Daughter) Read >> |
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Where are the words? / Kelly Charron (daughter) Read >> |
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A tribute to our nephew on his birth day / Elaine (His wife ) Read >> |
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my baby / Ron Phillips (brother-in-law) Read >> |
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Never been a Kinder Man / Angela (Daughter-In-Law) Read >> |
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Take care of him / Elaine (his wife ) Read >> |
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He is in God's Arms Now / Julie Westly (Friend of Mom ) Read >> |
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| His legacy |
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Thomas R Marshall
Anybody whose life has ever been touched by suicide is changed in spirit, body, and expectations for the rest of their lives. This is a story of my late husband, my friend, my every thing.
Thomas Richard Marshall was born on Nov 29th, 1950. He committed suicide on January 5th, 2005 by shooting himself in the head with a 22mm rifle.
Dickie, his nickname, and I were married on July 19th, 1980. I brought two wounded children into this mix from a very hard divorce. Dickie was thrilled. As a younger man, at age 23, Dickie was diagnosed bipolar. It wasn’t unexpected as this disease ran in his family. He had graduated from pharmacy school and was working at his family’s drug store when he had his first episode. When he recovered from this, he had decided never to have biological children of his own. We fulfilled a dream of his to raise and love my two children.
He had several small episodes through the years but, as middle age approached, he had come to terms with his condition and never had to be hospitalized since we were married in 1980. The children grew up and he retired as the pressure of a busy store got to be too much for him. That was fine by me as I was working on my own career as a restaurant manager. When I became disabled, we decided it was time to just enjoy one another and maybe do some traveling around. We loved to cruise and that’s what we did for many, many years.
Fast forward now to last year as our 25th anniversary was approaching. I asked him if he would like to take a special cruise to celebrate and received a definite no to my question. Taken by surprise at this, I asked him what was wrong, and he couldn’t answer me. Taking all of his meds that he was supposed to, it didn’t dawn on me that this was the beginning of the end. He lost an amazing amount of weight and looked very gaunt and was tired most of the time. Still, seeing his psychiatrist, and not having any trouble with these appointments, left us all baffled as to what really was going on.
His birthday was close in November when our grandson was due to be born so we went on a short trip to be with my daughter for this event. Ezekiel was born on Dickie’s birthday. Seeing Dickie holding this little guy was probably the most important day I can remember in years.
We came back home and once again I tried to brooch the subject of getting away for our anniversary. My son had just moved his family back to our area and I thought maybe the care of our parrot was on Dickie’s mind. This would have been the perfect answer to that but, once again the answer was a firm no, and he couldn’t tell me why. This conversation had escalated to such a state as to call it our first major argument in years. That happened on the evening of January 4th, 2005. We both went to bed with hurt feelings and to say I had no idea what was coming would be an understatement.
The morning of January 5th, I woke up to a very quiet house. I thought well, maybe he had left early to visit with his Mom and to talk this out with her. That in itself wasn’t unusual as she lived in the same town and he often went up there. I finally got up and walked down the hall to the bathroom and saw Dickie laying in the room next to the bedroom. I ran in and thought that maybe he had fallen in there and knocked himself out. As I bent over him, I saw the blood and knew I had to act fast. I ran out in the kitchen and unlocked the front door while grabbing the phone to dial 911. Running back into the room, I finally saw the rifle laying there as the 911 operator answered the phone. I let out a scream and yelled that I needed a rescue squad and a sheriff NOW!! I had convinced myself that somebody had broken in during the night and shot my husband. I didn’t even wait for an answer from the dispatcher but, broke the call off and dialed my best friend who rents our upstairs apartment. Screaming into the phone for her to come down quick, I was trying to find a pulse on him, and I realized he had been dead for awhile. Why I then called his Mom, I’ll never know. She had always been a soft place for him to fall and to have this happen was unthinkable.
Peggy, my best friend, literally wrenched me up off the floor. I was covered in his blood and just wailing uncontrollably. The rescue squad and the sheriff had just arrived and I had to pass them to get out the door to go upstairs. It had sunk in that Dickie was dead and he no doubt committed suicide.
The deputy, who came up to see me, couldn’t have been more gentle or more of a caring, sweet man. He treated me with the utmost respect and explained exactly what was going on downstairs every step they took. I had to ask to verify that what I saw was actually what had happened, and he took both of my hands in his and looked me in the eyes to tell me yes. We live in a very small town and word spread fast. The police had to put up crime scene tape around the house and I never, ever want to see that again. I asked him if Dickie had left a suicide note and he hadn’t. It took 2 hours for them to complete the investigation downstairs. His Mom came through the police line and I had to tell her that Dickie had committed suicide. I just knew she would blame me, and with my own reasoning, rightfully so.
I have to admit that I have blanked out most of the next 2 days and only remember going to the cemetery to bury him. My family flew in from all over the East coast and they were a huge comfort to me, and still are.
I felt so alone and blamed myself totally for what had happened. The what ifs, and maybes, were killing me and I just couldn’t function. Who could I trust to tell them the awful secret of the argument the night before?? I wanted to commit suicide myself. This was ALL my fault and the grief and the blame were overwhelming. I didn’t know where to turn at this point.
I finally did what was natural to me and the least threatening of all. I went online to find out about suicidal behavior and stumbled upon some support groups available. After reading messages and seeing which boards were the most active, I joined a group called Healing After Loss or better known as HALO. For me, this was the best choice I could have made.
They gave me the gift of a non-threatening environment to get all my secrets out and talk with other suicide survivors, exactly like me. I then had the courage to see a psychiatrist in person to seek out the help I desperately needed. That became the first step of healing and I am recovering to date.
One of the issues that came up the first day was the clean up of the blood that had been all over the room where Dickie had completed this act. To get an agency in would have taken at least 24 hours and I knew I didn’t want to be out of my home that long. It was important for me to be back in a place with all my surroundings and feeling safe at that point. My son and my daughter-in-law took it upon themselves to clean and I will forever be grateful to them for doing this.
There was plenty of guilt to pass around and it started with my son. He felt it was his fault that Dickie died. IF he hadn’t moved back then MAYBE Dickie wouldn’t have done this. My 9 year old granddaughter was next with IF she had talked with Grampa more then MAYBE this awful thing wouldn’t have happened. And so on down the line. None of this was true of course and in some ways this will always be stuck in their minds until the day they die. Dickie opened a door into a world where this was a method of escape. It’s not and never will be a way to end anybody’s troubles but when one member of a family does this, it doesn’t seem as taboo as what it really is.
Maybe that’s the most remarkable thing that has happened to all of us. Not just one person but, the whole extended family…..the acceptance of taking your own life. I feel this puts all of us at risk. Anybody who knew Dickie wouldn’t have thought he could ever do this but yet, he did and I have no clue how to close that door. The healing has to go on now and if he ever could know what the result of this one selfish act was, he would never have done it.
We will, as a family, struggle with this for the rest of our lives. |
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| Thomas's Photo Album |
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