Chapter 25: Finality
My mom left this world on Sunday, October 13, 2024.
It was a beautiful day. The sun shone brightly through a clear sky.
My children had just finished taking a bubble bath while I baked cinnamon rolls.
They were outside with their mom. My dad was working on his truck, and I was downstairs washing dishes.
None of us knew what was about to happen.
My wife came running inside.
“Something’s wrong. Your dad’s yelling for you. It’s your mom.”
I sprinted upstairs.
What I saw will haunt me for the rest of my life.
My mom had taken her own life.
My dad was screaming in anguish, cradling her.
I couldn’t process what I was seeing.
My mind couldn’t handle it.
I ran downstairs and went straight outside to my children.
I hugged them tightly.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. No matter what, I will always love you, and I will never leave you.”
They had no idea what was happening.
But I needed that hug.
I needed them to know that I loved them.
“Grandma is gone. She’s gone, and we will never see her again. I’m so sorry. I love you both more than
anything.”
Then I returned upstairs.
My father was still sobbing and holding my mom.
I did not want to go back into that room.
But I couldn’t leave him there alone.
“My baby. Oh God, my baby,” he cried.
I hope this will remain the worst day of my life.
I cannot imagine anything worse than that Sunday afternoon.
I will not go into further detail here. You do not need me to paint a picture to understand how horrible this
experience was.
I need time to gather my thoughts.
It has been roughly seven months since I last wrote.
Much has happened during that time, but right now I cannot put it all together.
I will return when I am ready.
The remainder of this chapter was written in the immediate aftermath of my mother’s death. I am preserving
its meaning because it reflects what I believed and felt at the time.
I do not wish this experience on anyone, yet I know my family is not alone in having experienced it.
If someone you love is struggling with their mental health, do what you reasonably can to remain connected
to them.
They may reject help.
They may reject treatment.
They may reject suggestions, advice, or your attempts to be there.
You cannot control what another person ultimately chooses or guarantee that you can save them.
But if you can remain present in their life, let them know they matter to you.
I wish more than anything that love alone could guarantee a different ending.
I now know that it cannot.